“Dreams can come true
Look at me babe, I’m with you
You know you gotta have hope
You know you gotta be strong”
So sang Louise Gabrielle Bobb, or as we know her best, just plain Gabrielle (I think she should have gone for Bobb as that is much cooler).
Yes, today I want to discuss dreams. Again.
Now as a starter I give you a dream snippet from the other week. Me and Mrs Bob were going somewhere. A party perhaps? As we were being led to our destination I got a tick in my neck. Apparently they are nasty gits but I decided I would shave that night and cut it partly off and that would do the job. Not quite sure what ‘job’ that would day, but hey I was dreaming.
We then got on a corner sofa, a really squishy comfy one, but it turned out it was a slide and as you edged round the sofa bend you went zooming down a settee slide thrill trip into a deep valley. I was first and as I hit the end of the slide I was greeted by people on both side pouring pints of beer all over me. All I recall was thinking ‘oh no, Mrs Bob won’t be happy, she doesn’t drink ……’.
Sofas / slides / beer / shaven ticks. Good eh?
I thought it was more of a nightmare on Saturday when I joined my SS buddies (Stockport Sippers, not the nasty goosesteppers) to see Stockport County lose two nil at home to the mighty (ahem) Boston United. We made up for it with a few pints in The Armoury, a fine Robinson’s inn in Ye Olde Stockport Towne. Luckily for me, The Dandy Highwayman had to leave soon after 9.30 so I made my excuses and missed out on an extra four hours drinking time.
I managed a tasty Bovril at half time. It really is the best gravy-based football drink out there. TDHM had a Balti Pasty which apparently burnt parts of his mouth that other pasties cannot reach. I had a smaller less exciting cheese and onion pasty. If you would like more information please subscribe to ‘Bob’s Football Pasty World’, a new pasty-based periodical for lovers of microwaved nuclear pasties to burn your taste buds off.
I just searched for a ‘hot pasty’ image and got lots of pictures of scantily clad women!!!!!!!!
As Wiki has now informed me;
“Pasties (singular pasty or pastie) are patches that cover a person’s nipples and areolae which are affixed with adhesive. Though pasties are commonly associated with strippers, burlesque shows and erotic entertainment, they are also at times worn more casually as an undergarment and occasionally as beachwear.”
Well I never ever knew that. Blimey. I hope the compromise of the following picture does not offend therefore.
So another dream had me at, I think, a wedding reception which was outside and a bot like a festival. Only I got drunk and woke about 9.30pm realising that I missed Stockport beating Gillingham 3-1 (the Gills went down to 10 men too apparently in my usefully detailed dream). MY County mate The Snowman was there and was just sitting down on a picnic rug with a multi-pack of crisps, He was eating a prawn cocktail pack which I am now told – in reality – he does not like. Someone showed me some of the filming they had done on their phone earlier. It looked like I had had great fun singing and dancing up on stage and making an arse of myself. I just can’t work out how we aimed to get to see County play at the same time as the wedding reception (though to be fair I messed up on both fronts).
Mrs Bob has also never heard the term ‘pasty’ used in the cheeky burlesque-related way. So there.
Back to my Stockport v Boston nightmare. I had a few days visiting my creators. On the train on the way up I chatted all the way to a very intelligent 4th year student from Manchester University. Seriously, I could not have sounded that intelligent at that age – and still can’t – and it makes you realise that some of these students really are naturally gifted, talented and driven. I wasn’t. Yes, I did history. No, I will not tell you what period.
I spent most of the time in with Carey Seniors but we had a nice lunch at the Unicorn pub in Wilmslow. I shopped Carey Senior (female) as she tried to hide her salad under a bit of baked potato she had left on her plate. I had to tell the waitress as if you can fit choc fudge cake and cream in, then you need to eat your salad.
Male Creator and I popped to The ‘Brook – my old local – for a drink on the Sunday. I was taken aback when one of his friend’s said ‘your dad’s urine is no better’. I know they are all mates there but how are they checking my 84 year-old father’s urine in a public house and why? Luckily it turns out he said ‘hearing’ not ‘urine’ which makes me question my own urine. I mean hearing.
Now back to dreams. The last one is harder to recall. I was on a football trip to Italy with my SS (sippers that is) mates and had to pop to the loo. A couple of the Italian staff followed me in and then said I had to clean the toilets (which for some reason looked like a huge open shower area). I said I wouldn’t and they got more and more menacing . I said they were being racist and they said they were and I would not get to eat my food until I had got down on my hands and knees and cleaned the peepee floor. I wish there was a funny ending. Damn you, you dreamlike racist restaurant staff!
In real life I did eat in a restaurant last night on Drummond Street near Euston. A uni reunion with Toby and Frank. We had a curry and I woke up in the night thinking I was about to be very sick. I wasn’t. How is that for an anecdote?
Today I have got back to doing work and stuff like that. I took the dogs out for a walk too whilst wearing my Hednesford Town top (long story). A bloke in a Leyton Orient tracksuit noticed the top so I pointed out I am in fact a Stockport fan not a Hednesford fan. He said he was a Welling United fan and not an Orient fan but it turns out he is the Orient under-18s coach. Anyone who can then discuss the financial position of Harrogate Town is a top geezer in my eyes. Football connections. Love it.
Back to Dreams. Here are my favourite dream (and related) songs.
- Dreaming by Blondie
- Dream a little dream of me by Terry Hall / Salad
- Dreaming of me by Depeche Mode
- Dreaming by OMD
- Sweet Dreams (live) by Red Alert
- Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me by The Smiths
- I dream to sleep by H2O
- Day Dream Believer by The Monkees
- Enter Sandman by Metallica
- Wake me up before you go go by Wham
Right that’s enough about poor and tenuous dream-related twaddle.
As you can see I have little to say yet again but I do not care about that. Next time I will be discussing the dream I can recall from when I was pre-school age and my oldest Christmas-related memory. Excited? You should be. To be honest I will probably forget.