Knitting by the scaffold.

Yesterdays draw only increases the suffering, the chances diminish, but not by much., keeping hope alive. When the French aristocracy were being murdered, apparently women were sat by the scaffold waiting for the next execution, knitting, only stopping when the blade fell.

Thats me.

Tuesday will be a blood bath. The days of Cambridge turning up, winning by one goal from a centre half who had done no training are over.

With Bonner in charge.

Ive spent many saturday afternoons at St Andrews a fine place, tuusday under lights will be a party. And a funeral, a last post. , a family in grief.

A very small family. Weeping, being held up, black veils, black cars, crosses, a heavy atmosphere, tears.

And i, toasting to the Blues.

Thank U very much