A Load Of Offal

I saw a heart warming story on the regional news last night.

A Bristol Rovers fan gave his wife a kidney for Valentine's day.

Not as in bought from a butchers.

But as in under general anesthetic removing and replacing.

Maybe not the most obvious gift but romantic in its own way.

As a reward, players from the Rovers made a DVD for him telling him how groovy he is.

Nice eh?

It mirrors my own experience in a way.

I was kind to my lover this morning.

And Matty Fryatt scored a goal this afternoon for me.

Waterloo

Sorry I didn't post yesterday. I didn't get home until the early hours of this morning after watching this lot and this lot live. Of course my lover and I had made arrangements to have the Man U/Roma score text to us as it happened.

I thought I would do a quick entry this morning, however, to tell you about a lunchtime conversation I had at a meeting during the day. I was talking to - lets call him Brian (a good name since it is actually his real one). Brian, I discovered, is a Yeovil fan and goes to most away matches. He is a Bristolian by origin, although he now lives in Somerset, and you'll never guess who he knew a few years ago.

None other than our own Ian Holloway!

It was at the time when Ollie was managing Bristol Rovers, where he is not deemed to have done terribly well. He then moved to QPR where - er - he is not deemed to have done very well either. His time at Plymouth seems to be regarded as more successful, however, and of course the verdict is still out at Leicester.

I don't want that to sound as if I am losing my faith in him. I think he is a great personality and as I have said before there is evidence that he has improved the standard of play by the Foxes since his arrival, albeit still inconsistently.

He does have what I call the 'ouch' factor though. I love his sense of humour but there have been times when I would have looked for a little more gravitas. It is difficult to find much to laugh about when you are hovering around, or worse still in, the relegation zone. At such times the use of humour needs to be measured and subtle.

Brian also shared a rumour that Ollie's Bristolian accent is not entirely authentic in that it is somewhat 'embellished'. I couldn't possible comment of course.

Ollie and the boys can look forward to a hard fought battle this Saturday against Sheffield United I am sure. Reminiscent of the battle I fought at the gig last night against against some dreadful French woman who came and stood directly in front of me then tried to invade my space. Unfortunately for her I have quite bony elbows which I strategically placed either side of me as I bopped. Within 10 minutes the space between us had opened up and it was Waterloo all over again.

Of Daps, Stingers And Chucky Pigs

Having finally finished the Philip Pullman trilogy I was reading I am at last getting stuck into one of my Christmas presents - Ian Holloway's autobiography.

I have only just started it but it looks as if it is going to be readable.

Being of West Country origin myself, there are already some references that have brought a smile to my face and have made me realise we have quite a lot in common.

For example, he, like me, calls plimsolls 'daps'. So named, apparently, because the factory making them used to have a sign outside saying "Dunlop Athletic Plimsoles". As a child I was encouraged to say 'pumps' because 'daps' was deemed somewhat common in 1970s Gloucestershire. Being the rebel that I am, though, I still call them 'daps' today (only please don't tell my Mum!).

And those of you who read Ollie's BBC column on a regular basis will know that there has been considerable debate about his nickname of "Stinger", following his explanation that he was given the nickname because that is what he calls stinging nettles. I'm definitely a 'stinger' girl I have to say.

Ollie and I are a similar age (although I have more hair than him). Which means that I would almost certainly have seen him playing live during my very brief earlier dalliance with football in the early 1980s when I used to occasionally go to watch Bristol Rovers with my then boyfriend. I can't pretend I remember it though.

Spooky then that with all this in common our paths should cross again with a mutual interest in the fate of Leicester City Football Club.

Of course, whilst I am not suggesting that he is only financially motivated, Ollie does get paid for loving The Foxes. Whilst I do it completely for free.

I wonder if he calls woodlice 'chucky pigs' like me.