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The trip back from Altrincham was uneventful while the conversation was the usual mix of the informative, silly and surprising. For instance, at one point, we discussed the best colours for a tractor. The general consensus was green with yellow wheels, though Andy did put forward the red of a Massey Ferguson, which I thought worth considering.
Breakfast was the usual Premier Inn fare though without a buffet. Altrincham is my first experience of a Premier Inn utilising an older building rather being purpose built.
The configuration of the restaurant (on the left in the above photo) made it quite tricky to put a buffet in, so we had a server instead. I preferred it. Not for any other reason than it saved me trying to collect food on a plate using one hand, something I’ve found particularly precarious.
The food was fine, though it was interesting that the boys settled for yoghurt and orange juice while we old timers had variations on a full English. Nicktor claimed that they had gone for the healthy choice though they did have more sugar than us.
Eventually, though, it was time to squish into Nicktor’s car and head off. Except there was one more thing to do in Altrincham. Along with the Chapel Street surprise for me yesterday, Nicktor had promised Fat Andy a surprise of his own.
Not that my surprise was completely finished. Part two was handed to me in the car.
He’s such a lovely fella, is Nicktor. He certainly knows what I love. Sadly, he isn’t so accurate with Fat Andy. In fact, Fat Andy said that if his surprise was a letterbox he was going to punch Nicktor in the bollocks.
Fat Andy’s surprise turned out to be an Edward VIII letterbox on the side of the footpath somewhere in the back streets of Altrincham. While the spot was pretty nondescript, it is where Fat Andy punched Nicktor in the bollocks.
Having taken the obligatory photograph and having said a brief prayer before it, Nicktor, through gritted teeth and in an unusually high-pitched voice, ordered us back into the car for the proper drive home. Though he did take us via millionaire’s row for Joe. This is, apparently, where the wealthy footballers live. To be honest, I wasn’t that impressed. I think South Farnham looks more exclusive.
Obviously, the drive back took in the usual motorway sights, giving rise to the discussion about Joe’s favourite car. Almost all of them, it seems. He even liked something which, to my untrained and uncaring eye, looked exactly like a Nike shoebox on wheels.
Following a stop at services so the Back Seat Boys could stretch their telescoped legs, we made our way inexorably home. There was a bit of traffic on the M25 but, basically, it was a good run.
And so, that brings an end to my trips away for football with Nicktor this season. Well, ones with overnight stays, anyway. I did suggest to him that we should just go away, every now and then, to visit little towns, stay overnight and visit something cultural, rather than waste a couple of hours watching dismal football. He thought that was an excellent idea.
Lol and great title!