FC AGM

Walking the dog past the community centre I noticed the car park filling up at a surprising rate for early on a Monday morning. An elderly gentleman got out, his eyes twinkling as he nodded in my direction.  He stroked his long white beard and pulled his wooly hat down over his silvery hair. He started to waddle over the car park when a battered old mint green car threatened to mow him down. The driver pushed his little round glasses back up his nose and scratched his white beard in surprise.  He abandoned the car, sideways between two spaces  and got out.

"Alright Nick," he nodded at the first old man.
"Not so bad. Prostate been giving me a bit of gip but mustn't grumble.  Busy time of year, eh, Nicholas?"
"Sure is."

The men go went into the community centre together. I wondered what they were doing but continued my walk.

On the way back the dog ran away from me, heading back to the centre.  Sometimes he finds little pools of sick, which for some reason he finds delicious.  He seemed more excited than normal.  When I found him, he had a carrot and was happily sitting by the building munching his way through it. It was impossible not to look in through the window.  The room was filled with old men, all with a similar look. It was a room full of rotund, bewhiskered, frosty haired gentlemen. They all had notepads and were checking their lists. Some checked them twice.  Just then, another man cycled up on his bike, his gut escaping from between his trousers and jumper.
"Damn," he muttered to himself, "I bet they've started." He did a little double take as he saw me peeking through the window. "Ho, ho, ho.  Spying on the AGM, are you?"

I'm not sure he was very convinced by my panicked explanation of the dog and the carrot.  It could be coal for me this year, which could be quite useful, as the heating has broken again.