Frank Owen
Well-known member
I'm actually hoping this post turns out to be the most pathetically mistimed, off-target, and ill-informed load of guano I've ever subjected you good folk to. I'm a common five eight bloke with sixty five years of slavish, pretty much unquestioning blind loyalty to our club.
I was amongst the upstarts that waited to give the Kelly's and Co a fair bit of verbal due, as much as anything else, to my own lack of life experience, or perhaps even that lack of patience or foresight that can be part of youthful enthusiasm.
My feelings at this present time, however, are of a very real and tangible anger. I should, of course, know better. No longer am I that youthful adolescent who stood at the door to Paradise to vent my frustration.
I'm a man with three quarters of a century of life's experiences in the bank. And yet here I am, four in the morning, brooding about something I've absolutely no control over. Truly, I'm asking myself why ? Do I really need this? Do the people who make the decisions which affect my mood to this extent really give a toss ?
Are they, in fact, no Better than the self-seeking cretins we protested about all those decades ago ?
As most of you know, I'm off on holiday in search of a bit of escapism from our drab, grey Scottish winter.
Perhaps a period of reflection on whether I want to contribute my limited disposable income to what has become a constant source of irritation will occupy my thoughts.
I think most of you know I'm not a religious man....and yet here I am, hoping for a miracle.
I was amongst the upstarts that waited to give the Kelly's and Co a fair bit of verbal due, as much as anything else, to my own lack of life experience, or perhaps even that lack of patience or foresight that can be part of youthful enthusiasm.
My feelings at this present time, however, are of a very real and tangible anger. I should, of course, know better. No longer am I that youthful adolescent who stood at the door to Paradise to vent my frustration.
I'm a man with three quarters of a century of life's experiences in the bank. And yet here I am, four in the morning, brooding about something I've absolutely no control over. Truly, I'm asking myself why ? Do I really need this? Do the people who make the decisions which affect my mood to this extent really give a toss ?
Are they, in fact, no Better than the self-seeking cretins we protested about all those decades ago ?
As most of you know, I'm off on holiday in search of a bit of escapism from our drab, grey Scottish winter.
Perhaps a period of reflection on whether I want to contribute my limited disposable income to what has become a constant source of irritation will occupy my thoughts.
I think most of you know I'm not a religious man....and yet here I am, hoping for a miracle.
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