HIKup

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I think that is more than enough of the Matrix of Truth.  Its rigidity were fencing in my literary creativity like a bear in a cave.  Bears are little known for their creativity, but both Winnie and Yogi were well respected sculptors and Paddington was one of the early Vienesse Actionists (look that up and I promise you will not regret it).

So here I am – wild and free.  No rankings, no arbitrary scores, no sub-headings.  Nothing says freedom like a mid-week game and a venture back to Danish Second Division East to watch HIK against perennial favourites BK Frem.  A nothing game as the one promotion spot was sealed weeks ago and both clubs a well clear of the six teams that potentially go down (bit lopsided those ups and downs numbers).

The sun was shining.  I had a small packet of liquorice Haribos in my back pocket and there were even signs to the stadium.

I still managed to go the wrong way.  And ended up getting to the Gentofte Stadium with a minute or two to spare to be greeted by this…

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Shit ground, no fans

Bugger.  The only other games in the vicinity were youth games: I decided not to risk my luck as a man rapidly approaching middle age by watching and photographing young boys run around.  Luckily Ikea was just around the corner (a sentence I never wished I would write) so I popped in to buy a saucepan to take the number of kitchen implements in my new house to one (notwithstanding the plastic plates, knives and forks that I smuggled out of the office today).

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