Having played and lost a monster match that was pretty important (to me anyway), I headed for the front door at Pontefract, so as not to get the "unlucky"s, the "well played"s and other well meaning comments when all I wanted was to be with my own thoughts.
As I sat on the ledge outside the club amongst the snow and bright sunlight, a gentleman who I assume to be homeless came and sat next to me. This wasn't in the plan of going outside for some peace and quiet.
"You've been working too hard" he slurred.
"Very possibly" was my curt reply.
He said feeling my rather puny left bicep "You've got some muscles eh?" I think he was being sarcastic. Mickey taking from the homeless, still not in the plan.
"Not enough" I replied.
"Creatin - that's what you need" came through the alcohol filled air.
"Thanks, you are probably right. How are you anyway?" I thought I'd make an effort, and he was taking my mind off my my troubles anyway.
"F***ed, absolutely f***ed. That's what I am"
I wished him well, and stopped feeling quite so sorry for myself.