Yesterday afternoon, A and I and my Mum and Dad fought our way through the result of the North West's severe weather warning (*cough* - a sprinkling of snow less than a quarter of an inch deep!) to go to the Manchester Evening News Arena to see the Strictly Come Dancing Live! tour. It was so cheesy - and I loved every single minute of it! Kate Thornton's sparkly shoes, Len Goodman's risque comments, Craig's deadpan delivery, even Christopher Parker's dreadful Paso Doble! A coped manfully with it, we were on the back row right at the very top, so looking at the dance floor was a little like looking at a Subbuteo table, which provided A and I with much laughter, pretending to flick the dancers around the floor. However, it wasn't really his thing, since as he said, watchign it on the screen was no different from watching it on the telly at home, apart from the fact that he couldn't lie on the couch and drink beer.
However, as he pointed out, it was probably no different from two week ago when I was less than thrilled by Newcastle's performance against Bolton at St James'. The last time I had seen Newcastle play was not long after Keegen took over the post last time around, in the Spring of 1992. They played a blinder of a game against Swindon Town, beating them 3-1. This time, the football was dire.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I went, since the pre-match atmosphere was ecstatic, but 15 minutes into the game, the Toon Army just stopped singing, as they realised that King Kev may have arrived, but his magic wand had obviously got lost in transit. Never in all my time of watching football live (and remember, most live footballl I've seen has been either Macc Town languishing in lower divisions or small club football like Whitley Bay Town) have I seen such an appallingly lacklustre performance. I have never sat at a live sports event before and wished I'd bought my knitting.