Our pizzas are delivered by Marsha the Sensible.
That is according to Domino’s Pizza’s Track Your Order function
(other Pizza delivery companies are, of course, ready, willing and able to take your order.) I know all about tracking my order, having been introduced to this exciting concept by Eleanor, Fourth Eldest of my Tremendous Ten grandchildren when she was staying
with her Grandad and me a while back. Because she took possession of the IPad to order our delivery, Dominos Pizza now believes I am Eleanor - and, to be quite honest, I am not inclined to disillusion them, as I rather enjoy Being Eleanor.
The occasion is our latest Footie and Pizza Evening with The Neighbours. Brighton & Hove Albion aka The Seagulls ( you can tell I am getting into the action when I start
calling the local football club by its nickname) are playing West Ham, who are forever blowing bubbles for some reason which escapes me. Not that I have anything against bubbles, you understand, but I generally save them for bath time with the youngest of
“Our” Team are playing in a fluorescent yellow kit which I find slightly disconcerting at first because, let’s face it,
have you ever seen a fluorescent yellow seagull? No, me neither. However, it does make up somewhat for the fact that Brighton’s goalie, whom I nicknamed Dayglow Dave last season, has now departed for Pastures New. For pastures, read pitches. We now have
a whole team of Dayglow Players, brightening up the pitch. At the very least, they should be able to see each other coming. Or going. West Ham don't stand a chance, dazzled as they are by the Yellow Peril.
We order our pizzas. Jackie, who lives next door, knows how to unlock special offers on-line which means that we can order extra drinks and end up paying less than we would without them. I am not sure how she does this but
I am All Admiration. One day I will work this out for myself but for the moment I am still remembering the time when I managed to order a Chicken Feast pizza without either chicken or sweet corn - in fact, just a pizza base with a tomato sauce topping. It
was not my Finest Hour, pizza-wise.
The match starts and I keep one eye on the IPad so that I can ensure everybody is on track with our Pizza Progress. To be honest,
everybody else is concentrating on the game though they do humour me when, from time to time, I read out the latest Pizza-Related joke, in the interests of entertainment. For example, why didn't the cheese join in the dancing with the other toppings? Answer:
because it was too mature! I do hope you laughed? Even just a titter or two?
Marsha the Sensible arrives on the doorstep when I am talking to the Middle of the
Darling Daughters, who has phoned to check arrangements for a weekend visit with the Rampaging Rascals. I am not sure what my poor daughter makes of the conversation going on at the other end of the line as I quiz Marsha on why she is sensible. Marsha appears
a little put out to hear that she has been categorised as “sensible”. She can't remember what soubriquet she had previously been afforded but it was obviously more, well, interesting than “sensible.”
The Seagulls are triumphant. It's their first Away Win since they were promoted into the Premier League and they are delighted with their clean sheet. I know just what they mean, it is one of the best
moments of my week when I tuck myself into a bed made with snowy white, clean sheets.
I love our Footie and Pizza Evenings. I love to see Mr B so animated
by the combination of good company and football. I love the fact that our neighbours seem to enjoy the evenings as much as we do. I love the fact that I don’t have to cook, that our food is delivered to our door by someone sensible. Like Marsha.
Up the Seagulls!