Louis and the Tigers, a winning combination, at last!

The alarm goes off at a quarter to seven, and after rising and using the toilet, return to my bedside don shoes and socks and a slip a sweater over my pyjamas, as the house, and particularly the floor, are very cold. Wishing that I had packed my slippers and a dressing gown. Alice has to be at work for eight, so breakfast needs to be early, but the most essential requirement is a cup of tea, so the first task is to fill the kettle and set it to boil. Norman is gently snoring in his basket, so I leave him to his dreams, while sausages, black pudding and bacon are retrieved from the refrigerator and placed in a frying pan on a low heat, whilst meanwhile tea is mashed in a mug with the freshly boiled water from the kettle. The scent of frying sausage and bacon stirs Normy back to consciousness and he saunters into the kitchen in order to to be ready for breakfast, as soon as it is available, but first, I scoop him up and shoo him into the little outdoor courtyard to relieve his bladder. I intend calling Alice at a quarter past seven, but she is up and about barely ten minutes after I am, and has time to wash and dress before breakfast is served, Louis also surfaces, just as the bacon, egg and sausage is being distributed. Having fed the children and the dog, I fry myself a few eggs and eat these with toast and another pot of tea, before saying goodbye to Alice as she sets off for her Saturday Job, at the hairdressers across the road. Louis has already got Saturday football fever and insists that I watch the Football League Programme from the BBC, that he has somehow managed to record on the sky plus box. The Tigers feature for about thirty seconds, out of a total of an hour's broadcast, but he watches it happily, while I return to the kitchen to clear away the pots and wash up, before running him a bath and then washing and shaving myself. We are both shampooed, dressed and ready for ten o'clock, and transport our bags and Norman's bed back to the car, before taking Normy for his morning walk. The mild, fine, weather continues, so we decide to walk through the Bar into town and have a stroll around the Market, Norman depositing treasure en route, underneath Father Roy's window, which I recover and place in a waste bin, as we progress. The Market is busy, aided, no doubt, by the fine weather, and we wander through it contentedly, pausing, every so often to look at items on the stalls, Louis has lost the Hull City scarf and hat that Clement handed down to him, probably he took them to school where they promptly disappeared, now he wants me to buy some new ones. Like all football branded products, they are quite expensive and including the football tickets for the match today, he has already had fifty pounds from his grandad in the last week. In the end I compromise and say he can have my Tigers scarf and we will buy a new hat from the supporters shop at the stadium, before today's match. He is satisfied with this and our expenditure on the market is limited to some fresh strawberries and a couple of cakes, one fruit and one Madeira. We have to return to the car for eleven o'clock, as parking in North Bar Without is limited to two hours, so we retrace our steps, eating fresh strawberries as we walk. When we arrive in Tickton, it takes us ten minutes to unpack Norman, the remains of the Mexican ingredients and my overnight gear. Later Louis "helps", me hang out yesterday's coloured washing in the garden, while Norman chews the remaining meat from one of last night's rib bones, in the sunny corner of the lawn. At midday, Louis is ready for lunch, and wants his usual ante pasta with cream soda, which he calls grandad pop. I am still quite full from breakfast, so limit myself to a coffee and a piece of fruit cake, accompanied with a nice piece of goat cheese. There is just enough coffee left in the percolator to fill a small flask to take to the football for me and I decant some cream soda into a small water bottle for Louis and also make him a couple of smoked cheese and salami sandwiches from the remnants of the ante pasta, as well as a couple of slices of fruit cake. All of this is then carefully packed into my shoulder bag and then we leave Norman some extra water before setting off for the KC stadium. To avoid the match day traffic, we are taking the scenic route via North Point again, having brought the trousers that require taking in, and leaving these with the seamstress, located in the indoor market, en route. We arrive at Linnaeus Street in ample time, at a quarter to two and take an unhurried stroll to the football ground amongst other fans who have made an early start The stadium shop, when we arrive, is packed, but we find Louis a Tigers hat, join the checkout queue to pay for it and are still in our seats by half past two. Both teams are warming up on the pitch and the Charlton Mascot, a little boy no bigger than Louis, is performing impressive dribbling practice, guiding his football in and out of a series of coloured plastic cones. I draw Louis attention to him and point out that these skill drills are just the sort of thing that he will need to master, if he wants to become a really good player. The game kicks off on time at three and Hull field their new, Egyptian, international striker, Gedo, in place of the Slovenian international, Robert Koren. The game is a highly skillful, free flowing, encounter, with the Tigers pinning Charlton back into their own half for most of the first thirty minutes and creating several chances, but failing to score, and then, gradually, Charlton start to come into the game and begin to look threatening. Almost against the run of play, we win a corner, Robbie Brady crosses and Gedo puts it away. One nil to the Tigers, and Louis is ecstatic. We are still leading at half time, and after the players leave the pitch, we have our picnic. Louis only eating a single sandwich and some fruit cake, which isn't surprising, considering what he has already consumed today. The uneaten sandwiches are put back in their Tupperware container, and then he drinks his pop and I enjoy my Italian coffee until the teams return for the second half of the match. After the interval, Charlton make a determined effort to try to get back in the game and the football is absorbing, flowing from one end to the other, as good a game as I have seen for a long time, but despite both sides having chances, it stays at one nil to the Tigers when the final whistle blows. The crowd and especially Louis, are happy, he has finally seen Hull City win. We walk back to the car with the evening sun, an orange ball of fire, setting behind the trees of West Park, in which the KC stadium stands, and soon fall in with a bunch of Charlton fans, on their way back to the railway station. I congratulate them on their teams game performance and wish them well for their Tuesday evening match against Leicester, one of our closest rivals. Louis tells them that his brother lives in London and asks how far away Charlton are from the Spurs ground at White Hart Lane. They tell him about three miles and then wish us good luck, as we peel off towards Linnaeus Street and they carry on to Paragon Station. To avoid the worst of the traffic, we drive back to the east of Hull and then take the bypass back to Beverley, while listening to sports talk on Radio Humberside. A tired but happy Louis is dropped back with Sarah at six o'clock and then I drive home to Tickton, in order to feed Norman and to recover my washing from the garden, which is still damp and will need to be hung out again tomorrow. It has been a busy few days and tiredness is taking hold, so to avoid the effort of cooking, I simply remove the salami from Louis' picnic sandwiches and add it to Normy's dog tin, before finishing them off, accompanied by a pot of tea and another slab of fruit cake. Later, I read the papers on my iPad and then go to bed for ten o'clock.