It’s official. I am part of the Wagner Revolution.
Over the last day I have been inundated with fellow Revolutionaries and their rallying cries of support. “It’s here. #Wagnerrevolution” they shout. Their season cards had arrived.
On Wednesday 6th July 2016 I left work and as I drove home I prayed that I would return to discover that the noble messengers of her Royal Highness’ mail service had not let me down. Red light after red light, will I ever get home.
I round the corner towards my house and slow down as I pass the front door imaging the letter laid their on the doormat. I park my car, and walk towards my home with purpose. My key already selected and in hand, I’ve waited 112 days, 9 hours and approx. 45 minutes and can’t wait a moment longer. I gentle push the door open and I see it, the unmistakeable corporate identity of a letter from Huddersfield town.
It must be it. It must be it. What else could it be? Without even attempting to open the letter I frantically rub and feel for something firm, something plastic, something that tells me I’m part of the Revolution.
I am not disappointed, there it is. I can feel it. But know I must see it. My frantic excitement turns to delicate care, as if I was holding a new born baby for the first time, I pull at envelope and peel back the opening. It is now in my hand. I am looking at it. The wait is over. My Huddersfield Town season card has arrived.
I’ve only 29 days, 21 hours, and approx. 40 minutes until it begins.
Ooh to be a…