Eat or be Eaten

Consuming foodstuffs got even more (*) difficult for me in the last few days. Got a call at work on Friday morning from 'er indoors saying that she thought she could smell gas. I said open the window and leave it until I get home in the afternoon (she went to work, by the way, in case you thought I was suggesting that she should put up with said gas leak for six hours). Got home and thought: "That's either a gas leak or there's a dead mouse in the kitchen." Phoned emergency gas people, who turned up extremely promptly. Gasbloke says hob is unsafe and turns the supply off. Luckily still got an oven and, of course, there's always the microwave, so we ain't starving or surviving wholly on take-aways - although, fish and chips and take away curries have been consumed in the ensuing few days.
Awaiting visit from MFI (who we, unbelievably, took out additional insurance with on cooker when we bought it) on thursday to assess whether we can get it repaired or if we have to get new one.
Now to far more interesting matters. The boy's football team notched their third win on the trot on sunday morning, so the stats now read three losses and three wins. Sunday's 4-3 away victory, like their first win a few weeks back, was against a team who had previously beat them. That all adds up to superb improvement. The boy played well at right back and made a few decisive clearances. It has to be said, however, that 4-4 would have been a fairer result as the opposition had them on the rack for the last quarter of the match.
The whole event was great fun for a variety of reasons. One was that the boy's team won. One was that the boy himself went into the game with a great attitude (after some encouragement from pater over the last week). Another reason was the extremely gorgeous soccer mom of one the boy's team-mates who turned up. The Reidski was in total flirt mood, showing off my own considerable keepy-up skills as the boys were warming up and making sure she heard the word "ex" when showing off the beautiful watch that my ex had given to me for my birthday last week. And the eye contact and passing comments as the game progressed was excellent.
All lechery aside, the game was topped off by the fact that the opposition's ground has a social club as its HQ, so, while the boys were in the changing rooms after the final whistle, Reidski and another couple of geezers downed a quick cheap pint.
The day soured a little later on in my local when a glassing incident occured during the Manc scum v north London wankers game. Everyone is talking about all the incidents during and after the game, but I have yet to read a report which states the truth that that was a truly crap game of footie.
Anyway, I turned 40 last week. Among my pressies was the aforementioned watch, four superb Richmond Fotaine CDs (I have only just discovered them) and the 25th anniversary edition of London Calling.
This week, hopefully, I see Trashcan Sinatras and the Junkman's Choir. The former are playing a tiny venue in east London, so I don't know if there are any tickets available. The latter are on on Friday night - should be fun.
(*) My eating disorder has shown no signs of letting up, but I have eventually got round to getting medication for it. To remind you, I have had an endoscopy and a barium swally, both of which showed nothing to worry about. Meanwhile, solids still have not gone down my throat. Saw the doctor again, who asked me questions such as: "Has your voice got huskier recently?" I answered with a question of my own: "Are you suggesting that I am only now approaching puberty?" Anyway, she gave me pills which are mainly prescribed to angina sufferers. Research has also apparently shown that they can relax the muscles in the gullet and throat, hence I get them.