Fellow bloggers.

I cannot stress how much we both appreciate your kind thoughts, your generous donations, and the wonderful piss taking!

Yes, we have lost pretty much everything, all our furniture, appliances, and two cars.

Our house is a disaster zone, and it will take us months to gain any semblance of normality.

We have come very close to tears several times, but what sent me over the top was the marvellous gesture my mate Paul Lappage did, the write up and go fund me account.

I was reduced to tears, as was Marla the boss, and we basically lost it for a few minutes.

Thank you guys, it means so much that we have wonderful friends, via The Wolves, all over the world.

We have lost a lot, but we are still not in as bad a situation as tens of thousands of fellow Houstonians.

We have our health, our dogs and the friendship of a lot of people.

Life goes on, what we have lost is just stuff, and stuff is replaceable.

Once again, thanks a million, every blog is a ray of gold and black sunbeam.

Love from Houston

Clive’s end of season report

The dust has settled on another season, and we missed a play off place by a gnats whisker.

Clive & Jez

Despite my recurring 5 – 1 predictions, I am happy with what transpired, and the bottom line is we just are not good enough , yet.

Having only watched the Millwall game live, I suspect my comments will be slightly biased, not having seen the lads fully all season.

I’ve said all along how highly I’ve rated Richard Stearman, and the end of season accolades he has just received bear this out.

I was unimpressed with our keeper, at fault for both goals. Van la Parra can go as soon as he wants, that stupid reverse strike/chip thing he tried in the first half was pathetic, and if I’d been the manager he would have been off immediately.

Afobe had a quiet match, but he is a must keep, as is Dicko, that goal was frickin’ brill!

Sako for me is a luxury, if he goes, que sera,sera, and I don’t think he will be lighting any fires in the Prem.

The rest of the team were OK, but as I said, I’ve only seen one live match, so difficult to be too objective.

We must draw a veil over the season, and move on. All the what ifs are bollocks. The biggest what if is:

If my auntie had bollocks she would be my uncle. She don’t and she ain’t. I got over that a long time ago.

However, what I will not get over for a while is the wonderful time spent last weekend with fellow bloggers.

Some I’ve met before, some I’ve known for centuries, and some I’d never met.

People from all places and of all ages turned up and had the instant bond of The Wolverhampton Wanderers thread running throughout their lives.

There was Brompto with his moon walking alien pal, John.

Peakwolf bought me a pint, thank you kind sir.

Wolfstroker. Now there is such a soft spoken giant of a man, not one to argue with, but such a nice guy.

Stuwolf and his lovely family…much too good for you, me boy.

Thomas graced us with his presence, along with his Dad, great to meet you, sir.

I was accosted by a gorgeous, vivacious young lady, who turned out to be the beautiful Mrs Rachel Smallman, wife of the very lucky Ben, mother of young Arthur who was proudly wearing his new T shirt.

Colin, Steve Showcase, and others I’ve probably forgotten.

Big Mark G Davies and Scooped, ever presents…..until Scooped’s hangover from Friday night finally caught up with him, and of course the ever young Mrs and Mrs Doogooder, otherwise known to their friends as Mark and Sue.

I cannot stress enough how much at home I felt, amongst new and old friends, and the banter, piss taking and general friendship was of the highest order.

Thanks everyone for a fun filled couple of days.

A day with a legend

Mark Davies, illustrious Wolves Blog contributor, celebrated his 60th birthday last week and no, he is not the legend referred to in the title.

So, Scooped from Ludlow turned up, and Clive flew in from Houston, and Andrew, son of Mark, together with wife Nicola, also turned up unexpectedly, and there we all sat, in the hotel cocktail lounge, imbibing of various beverages when one of the hotel staff came in and asked Mark if he minds one more joining us for dinner.

Mark, being the obliging chap he is says “The more the merrier”, and in walks The Legend, Mr. Steven George Bull.

Mark meets legend

Of course we all knew he was arriving, except Mark, who for once was speechless, even if only momentarily.

After shaking hands with Mark, Bully asked where is John from Ludlow, and Clive who flew all the way from Texas.

He then proceeded to be the life and soul of the evening, telling football anecdotes, answering the usual “did you smack Lineker at Italia 90” and other obligatory questions.

He is extremely passionate and committed to his various charities and talked long and hard about his money making ventures for charity.

We had a wonderful evening, wining and dining, but that was only the appetizer for the following day.

After a nice early breakfast of all things fried and greasy, Mark, John, Bully and I proceeded to the local golf course, where we donned the oversized but striking gold and black shirts lovingly prepared back in Houston, in honor of Mark’s birthday.

Attire made in Houston

If Bully ever challenges you to a game of golf, beware. He is brilliant. A natural athlete, and the hardest hitter of a golf ball I’ve ever seen, and straight down the fairway as well.

We had a riot of a day.

Nothing was off limits, and we spent all day taking the piss out of each other, and laughing until we cried.

At one point, after being told I looked like a girl the way I played golf, I said to Mark and John, “ I never thought I would ever say this, but Bully, f*@# off!!”

Absolutely wonderful sense of humor, and a rapier wit. True Black Country at its best.

I am crap at golf, but all throughout the day, Bully was offering advice and tips to me, trying to help.

I bet other “superstars” would not be anywhere nearly as patient and helpful.

Happy 60th Mark

Mr. Bull is a man of many talents, and top of the list is his humility.

Not once did he brag about goals he’d scored or games he’d played in, just answered our questions quietly and calmly, as though scoring a record number of goals for one of the most famous teams in history was no big deal.

A couple of times other golfers came up and asked the significance of the gold shirts, and then…”Are you Steve Bull??’ and every time it was a quiet acknowledgment and back to the golf.

A very, very down to earth guy from the Black Country, with no airs or graces, who is so passionate about The Wolves, and the wonderful conversations throughout the day about the current team and other teams, will of course remain private.

At one point I asked him if he gets fed up with certain questions, and he said that when he is asked if he regrets not playing at the highest level (The Premier League) he answers by saying he did, he played and scored for England, and that is as high as it gets.

The golf finally finished, but Bully was in no rush to get away, we had a coffee in the clubhouse and then drove back to the hotel, where we sat and had sandwiches and more coffee, and Bully seemed genuinely reluctant to leave.

Bully and friends

He signed a picture for me with the words “Shit golfer, top man”

I am still walking on the clouds when I think about that day, one of the most memorable of my life. Not only meeting a legend, a footballing hero to thousands, but getting to know him slightly, and to have the piss royally taken out of me, in a wonderful way.

Steve Bull has gone even higher in my estimation, if that is possible. He is one of the best men I have ever had the pleasure and the privilege to meet.

Bully, thank you.

And thank you Mark for turning 60.