Digweeds Trousers
New member
I don't suppose this is of much interest to anyone but I have just gone through a very painful split with my girlfriend. Over the last few weeks I have really kept things together at work, with mates etc.
I have not cried even though it feels like someone has died. As she left me her final words after four years were:
"Now you can spend all your time watching that shitty football team with those f***ing tossers you call mates"
I have just looked on the thread Goldstone, with the pictures. f*** me I burst into tears. Really cried. I'm 36 and I blubbed like a baby, staring at those pictures.
Perhaps i am a sad little man, whose going to grow old, all alone. But those pictures were the eeriest thing I have ever seen. In the silence of my office I could hear ghostly voices from the pst. Peter Ward songs, the scream when that free kick from Case went in. Laughing with amtes on the way to the ground. Drinking in the Lord Nelson, pasties on the pavement.
Chants ringin in my ears. Going home hoarse, having a shower and then going out with the lads on a Saturday night.
Those wankers did not steal a ground. My god, they took away a huge part of my life. I know where I used to stand, who was always around me..............I feel so angry yet so melancholy that those times were taken away from me, from all of us.
A wistful smile crossed my face, thinking of the great times I had in there. Emotions from all extremes. Hopes dashed, joy beyond description, elation, depression, anger, fear, ecstacy more powerful than any drug.
The Goldstone. She was my friend. an old friend, never forgotten. Never replaced. My church, my altar, my absolution.
We may snipe at each other, laugh, jest and mock. But we are all here under one bond. Most of us were blessed by God, whichever one in which you believe, to have had our place on that great stage.
I cannot replace what is no longer set in stone. I can but remember my past.
A toast, men of sussex.
The Goldstone. an old dear friend. In our hearts.
Always
I have not cried even though it feels like someone has died. As she left me her final words after four years were:
"Now you can spend all your time watching that shitty football team with those f***ing tossers you call mates"
I have just looked on the thread Goldstone, with the pictures. f*** me I burst into tears. Really cried. I'm 36 and I blubbed like a baby, staring at those pictures.
Perhaps i am a sad little man, whose going to grow old, all alone. But those pictures were the eeriest thing I have ever seen. In the silence of my office I could hear ghostly voices from the pst. Peter Ward songs, the scream when that free kick from Case went in. Laughing with amtes on the way to the ground. Drinking in the Lord Nelson, pasties on the pavement.
Chants ringin in my ears. Going home hoarse, having a shower and then going out with the lads on a Saturday night.
Those wankers did not steal a ground. My god, they took away a huge part of my life. I know where I used to stand, who was always around me..............I feel so angry yet so melancholy that those times were taken away from me, from all of us.
A wistful smile crossed my face, thinking of the great times I had in there. Emotions from all extremes. Hopes dashed, joy beyond description, elation, depression, anger, fear, ecstacy more powerful than any drug.
The Goldstone. She was my friend. an old friend, never forgotten. Never replaced. My church, my altar, my absolution.
We may snipe at each other, laugh, jest and mock. But we are all here under one bond. Most of us were blessed by God, whichever one in which you believe, to have had our place on that great stage.
I cannot replace what is no longer set in stone. I can but remember my past.
A toast, men of sussex.
The Goldstone. an old dear friend. In our hearts.
Always
