Felicitous Fox

I arrived home from work reasonably early yesterday - about 5pm. I raced around sorting washing, unloading the dishwasher, laying the table and of course writing my post.

I was on a mission.

When my lover arrived home about 6 I watched him prepare our tea (far be it from me to interfere!) then after he accompanied me on the guitar for a few choruses of "Red Neck Woman" we donned our Parkas and made our way down to the pub at the bottom of the hill.

Why? Because The Foxes were on Sky 1 of course, playing Crystal Palace.

We didn't get to see the start of the match because it was Vera Duckworth's funeral. The Landlord feared a riot if he tried to switch over. At the break though he did, much to the disgust of one of the other customers, who was dressed as Captain Birdseye and said football is ruining TV. He stomped off in disgust, muttering that he would never get home across the fields in time to see the next episode.

The match itself was hard fought on a dreadful pitch. It was like a mud bath at the Walkers (it did look rough when we were there a couple of weeks ago). One of my favourite moments of the evening was half time when a whole load of men came out bearing garden forks to tidy up the pitch. Talk about spitting in the wind.

All the commentators on the radio this morning are saying it was not a very interesting game. It wasn't Premiership football that is for sure but there were times when The Foxes put something together, passing, placing, running and generally trying to work as a team. They looked as if they had heart and I was struck to see Olly presenting as engaged and relaxed. He is clearly relishing the challenge of turning the team around and there are signs that he is doing just that.

Our late goal has put us 15th in the table (5 places up) and made me a very happy Fox.

Leicester 'till I die!