Over the years, I’ve very rarely missed a Watford home game through illness. Maybe once every five years, on average. But yesterday I came down with a rather unpleasant bug of some kind – I won’t go into the details, let’s just say I can’t stray too far from the bathroom – and although I’ve been a bit better today, I’m still not eating, and I didn’t feel up to the trip to Vicarage Road.
Oh well, I thought, at least it’s on TV. Little did I know that I would thus be condemned to witness the most astonishing event seen at the Vic in years on a small screen in my living room, rather than from my usual vantage point in the Rookery. Lloyd Doyley scored, and I wasn’t there to see it.
They loved it on Sky, of course. “They’ll be printing up T-shirts saying ‘I was there when Doyley scored’,” said one of the commentators. And all I could think was: if they do, I can’t buy one, because I wasn’t there, was I?
Life really sucks sometimes.
