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you get sent on a free weekend
to mountains and lakes;
to shops selling army knives
(complete with fork, spoon
and satellite dish);
to cheese with bigger holes
than the Wanderer’s defence;
to snow-capped peaks as shrouded
in illusion as play-off hopes.
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Two minutes gone:
Yodelling ‘Super Bobby Taylor’ down the main street
to the bemusement of dog-walkers.
Midway through the second half:
head in hands as Dave
pirouettes around the adjacent field
like Julie Andrews in ‘The Sound of Music’.
Blues equaliser.. no doubt against the run of play.
Honours even; friendship resumed.