Out there I feel sad not to see her no more

Went up to Wembley last Friday for the Lionesses v Portugal. Stayed at the Wembley Stadium Premier Inn as usual. Outside the front door two doormen were checking everyone for booking references. When I did get past them the queue to check in was a mile long. I’d reached about the halfway point when, horrors, one of the three check-in desk clerks went walkies and left his two colleagues to it, but mercifully he returned before long.

Having eaten and unpacked I moseyed down to Blue Check, just in time to catch Deb from Free Lionesses and get a wristband qualifying me for 10% off drinks before she left for the stadium. Gary from London Seaward was there and we chatted over a pint, noting with great sadness what’s happened to the club we were in love with. Relegation is one thing, but the real chokers are a) manager Dan being let go last summer (he promptly got the manager’s role at London Bees and took half the team there) and b) Jo, who did so much for the club and got me back into going regularly, having given up football completely, even jacking in her job at the FA. Gary was in no doubt that neglect from chairman Richard, who never turns up to games, and vice-chairman Gareth, who is very rarely seen there, was to blame. They’ve just changed name to Athletico London and are seeking to recruit players, but Gary and I agreed we’d be surprised if the club made it through the 2025/26 season.

Gary said he’d just be watching Arsenal Women next season and that he’d been to Lisbon to see them win the Women’s Champions’ League. I said I guess I’ll be going to Portsmouth Women in WSL 2.

I hung out in the beer garden with Rachel, Leanne and Amir for a while and listened to their travellers’ tales, Rachel from Arsenal’s victorious trip to Lisbon, and Leanne and Amir from the World Sevens in Estoril.

My seat was pretty good, near the top of the lower tier behind one of the goals. I was hopeful about the match, as Portugal were without Kiki Nazareth, their danger woman who’d been instrumental in holding us to a draw over there. As the lady next to me remarked to me on the starting teams as they were being read out, I asked if she’d come far.

“Near Portsmouth.”

“Me too! I’m from Gosport.”

“So are we.” I couldn’t believe it. Her name was Emma and we were fast friends from that point on.

Aggie Beever-Jones and Lucy Bronze putting England two up within five minutes was the stuff of dreams. From then on the game was never in doubt. Emma and her group and I all sang along as the England Band played Sweet Caroline and England Till I Die.

Half time came, the Lionesses 5-0 up. When we each returned from the snack bars Emma and I talked about past England games. They’d been following the Lionesses since the French World Cup. They were Chelsea Women supporters (nobody’s perfect) so were impressed when I told them Carly Telford and I had always got on well when she played for England. They said Carly still comes to a lot of Chelsea games and they always talk to her.

I allowed myself to dream about double figures as the second half kicked off, but Sarina brought several subs on, clearly with the instruction just to keep a clean sheet. But the one goal England did add was a peach, Chloe Kelly heading home a Beth Mead cross. After her tribulations this season, it was lovely to see Chloe rewarded with a goal, keeping her star in the ascendant following on from her Champions’ League winner’s medal.

There was one moment of drama to come late on, as Leah Williamson was body-checked to the ground. Rising, Leah looked ready to murder the Portuguese player responsible and was admirably restrained by Alex Greenwood.

As Crystal hadn’t been in Blue Check I’d messaged her to ask if she was going somewhere after the game and she’d replied ‘Maybe Blue Check’. I sat in Blue Check for half an hour nursing a Magners and watching the other results come in on Sky Sports News until she messaged to say sorry, she was heading home.

I arrived outside Boxpark, where Rachel and Co had said they were heading, and was told by a doorman that the doors were closed as they were shutting in ten minutes. No loss : I could hear from outside that they were playing music at a deafening decibel level. I hung around outside till Rachel, Leanne and Co appeared and followed them to the Parish Club, a late opening Irish bar, where we had one more pint before turning in.

Sunday went to Gosport ice rink to meet Gem, whose partner Alex was playing goaltender for Solent Valkyries against Streatham Storm Development. The cafe, alas, was shut; fortunately I’d arrived in plenty of time to nip to the nearby Starbucks. Gem arrived as the teams were coming out, accompanied by friends Gemma and Jo who I’d met at a football match with them before Christmas. Gem kept trying to get Alex’s attention as Alex stood in goal ready for the face-off; she got a wave just in time.

It was an exciting game, with snatches of classic pop songs played every half minute or so including, joy of joys, Sit Down by James. Gem, who’d chosen our place to sit, close to the middle of the rink, noticed that occasionally a player came and sat in the front row right in front of us for a time.

“We’re sitting in the sin bin.”

“About right for me,” Jo grinned.

The game ended 7-7. Gem said that was great for the Valkyries as they’ve been losing heavily every week. We parted promising to meet again.

Flew to Barcelona on Monday for the Lionesses’ match with Spain. Bizarrely, the lady at the boarding gate at Gatwick, spotting my passport’s expiration date in February 2027, said to me “That will actually expire in January 2027.” As I was travelling light with just a carry-on, I needed sun lotion and toothpaste (to be left in the room on departure). At Barcelona airport it wasn’t long before I spotted the green cross sign of a pharmacy. I gratefully picked a tube of Factor 50 from a display stand and a tube of Sensodyne from the shelves. It wasn’t until I checked my receipt in the taxi that I realised the sun lotion had cost me 38 euro.

The hotel was a Travelodge, and much the same as its English sisters. The reception staff were friendly and, after I addressed them in Spanish, they switched to English. I was able to neatly offload most of my euro shrapnel as it was just enough to cover the city tax. Switched on the room TV and, incongruously in the outskirts of Barcelona, it was tuned to Real Madrid TV.

Just along the road from the hotel was a shopping mall with a wide variety of eateries. Got a take-away and, since the TV only had Spanish channels, spent the evening listening to music on YouTube and watching sitcom episodes on Dailymotion.

Tuesday daytime another lazy day in the hotel, with a return to the mall for lunch at a frankfurter joint. Stopped at the gas station on the corner just before the hotel where they turned out to sell cans of caffeine free Coke Zero.

As my hotel was a 13 minute walk from the RCDE Stadium I didn’t bother heading into the city centre for the fan meetup (tales in travel books and online forums of pickpockets operating in the city centre made that an easy choice). To walk to the stadium I had to go through the mall and up the escalator to the top level, where the exit to the stadium was.

I arrived just before 6 pm, an hour before kick-off. The stadium was an impressive sight in blue, with part players’ names above all the turnstiles, among them Chilean legend Carlos Caszely. England fans were gathered outside the away end catching the sun; there was a modest queue lined back from the turnstile, which I joined. As we were waiting one of the FA fan liaison guys recognised me and said hello. He asked where I’d come from; when I replied Portsmouth I remarked that he sounded like he was from up north.

“I am. Manchester.”

“Red or Blue?” I asked.

“I’m FROM Manchester. Blue.”

I told him I was a huge fan of Steph Houghton and he said he often sees her around.

At 6.10 they opened the gate and we were processed in by stewards waving magic wands at our e-tickets. I got my front felt again but had no questions asked this time (hadn’t brought my power bank to this game - an advantage of missing the meet-up, I’d been able to charge my phone to full power in the room).

The whole of the ground’s lower tier was packed out with Spanish fans. They’d opened up just one section of the upper tier, in a corner, and that was where we were placed. Our section had just one snack bar, selling just hot dogs, crisps and Haribo sweets. I went for a hot dog, very tasty.

A group I met as I began looking for my seat told me the seating was unreserved. I went to find Leanne and Rachel. As we chatted I asked if Deb was around.

“She is here, but I think she’s over there.” Leanne pointed across at the Royal Box. Given how much Deb does for us Lionesses fans, fair play to her.

Rachel went up to the top row, to stand with a group of Chelsea fans with a flag. I sat in the middle with Leanne and some friends of hers, including a Hungarian girl who was delighted that the referee and assistants were all countrywomen of hers.

There were about 300 of us in the away end and, during the build-up and as the game started, the excitement was palpable. We’d beaten the world champions at home in February; could we do it again on their own patch? When Alessia Russo broke away to open the scoring halfway through the first half, we all believed. Hannah Hampton made some super saves at the other end.

After the break Spain started to dominate and had us on the back foot from there on in. Claudia Pina came on as sub on the hour and set the game alight. She equalised straight away. We sat prepared to settle for an honourable draw but ten minutes later she struck again.

A group of people in our end outed themselves as home fans by jumping up and celebrating. A few people, Leanne included, went to alert the stewards to their presence, but the stewards refused to move them. Leanne sat back down fuming.

Our spirits in the stand flagged, matching those of our girls on the pitch, apart from the legend Basil who constantly exhorted us to keep singing and “keep fighting! We are Lionesses! Keep going until we score three goals!” Some of us sang in response to his song prompts but despite a lively Chloe Kelly coming in as sub, a comeback never looked likely.

The whistle went, no complaints, we’d been beaten by a better team. I said “bye Leanne, see you in Zürich” to Leanne and trooped out of the ground and back into the shopping mall for my customary post-match McDonald’s. The queue was a kilometre long.

Farewell to the hotel on Wednesday, hoping the member of hotel staff who finds my toiletries appreciates the de luxe sun cream. Flew home.

Back to work yesterday, loads to do as usual after a holiday. At least I clocked up some overtime.

Went to Stoneham on Thursday to see AFC Portchester in the Russell Cotes Cup Final. There was a good turnout of Portchy fans, with Lewis, Ian and plenty of others all gathering behind the goal. As it was my 2000th football match I wore my When Saturday Comes “Football Voetbal Le Foot 2000” T-shirt and, after trying an older Hampshire FA official who, alas, couldn’t work the camera on my phone, got Lewis to take a pic of me outside the turnstile.

Lewis had said to me in the bar there’d been a bit of bad blood during the season created by comments from some people at AFC Stoneham. So once the game got under way the Portchy fans were ready to rub in Stoneham missing promotion through losing in the play-offs despite coming second in the league. We chanted “Wessex again, ole ole”, “FA Vase again, ole ole”, “Cowes Sports again, ole ole” with additional verses namechecking about a dozen Wessex League Premier teams. Lee Webber, Stoneham’s veteran goalie, turned to us at the end of the song to say “A bit harsh”, but he turned out to be one of those opposition keepers you can have a bit of a laugh with, keeping up banter during periods when the action was at the other end. Mostly a goalkeeping coach, Webber told us how had stepped in tonight as both Stoneham’s regular keepers were unavailable. “I wasn’t going to let our 17-year-old youth team keeper play, you lot would have eaten him alive,” he grinned.

Marley Ridge put Portchester in front on seven minutes, lashing in off the crossbar, and in the 25th minute Josh Clack doubled our lead with a low thunderbolt drive.

Some young kids supporting Stoneham, standing at the other end, did some chants of their own at us so we responded with “You’re back to school tomorrow”. After a round of “91 points, not enough” to the Tom Hark tune, we got behind Portchester with our usual Arancione chants like “Portchester, la la la”, adding in the odd rendition of “We’re all going on a Step 4 tour”. We got a good laugh when the Stoneham kids sang “Hampshire Cup winners, you’ll never sing that”, since we actually won the Hampshire Cup last year! Naturally we responded with “When Woody went up to lift the Hampshire Cup we were there, we were there”.

From kick-off after half time, Portchy went straight on the attack and Lee Wort’s shot drew a save from Lee Webber, but had drawn the keeper out of position leaving Marley Ridge with an open goal to tap in Portchy’s third. After the chant of “Marley Ridge, Portchester’s Iniesta” had died down, I started the Ken Barlow song. One of the Portchy faithful needed that one explaining, so Lewis explained that it was an FC United of Manchester chant that we’d adopted. “When you want a feelgood chant, you can’t go wrong with Ken Barlow”.

Stoneham scored a very late consolation. The match ended, 3-1, wild celebrations at our end. We stayed for the trophy presentation, singing “Treble winners, we know what we are”. The players walked along the perimeter shaking hands with us and let Lewis and Matt have their photo taken with the cup.

Got a lift back to Fareham with Matt and Lewis, who played a selection of this year’s Eurovision songs on his car music centre, and we discussed who we thought would do well. I was hopeful Remember Monday would get a decent mid-table placing at least for the UK.

Today, in blazing sun, the Portchester Ladies Reserves played a 25 minute walk from me at Gosport Falcons. This was Michele’s farewell game, as she’s on holiday when they play their final game of the season in two weeks’ time. It was a lovely surprise to see Jenna in the squad; presumably she’s back from her travels. My sponsee Sam was another welcome face on the bench. Millie (the striker, not the goalie) came along to watch; Charley was disappointed that she hadn’t brought her kit and boots, but got her on board for the game in a fortnight, when the girls are again going to be thin on numbers.

Trevor came along to this one and I joined him on the line of folding seats the team had brought. We talked about his upcoming holiday and likely developments for next season.

Gosport Falcons had the better of the first half. Millie (our goalie) kept them at bay with a series of superb saves, then just before the break Portchester took the lead against the run of play when Elisha netted from a goalmouth scramble.

With the introduction of Sam and Jenna, Portchester launched into the second half with new zeal and purpose. Falcons continued to attack and the second half became a goal feast. Falcons equalised, Bee put Portchester back in front volleying from a corner, Falcons equalised again then took the lead with a long range curler into the top corner.

With 10 minutes remaining Portchester’s record of being the only team in the entire Hampshire League still unbeaten, which Charley had mentioned with pride before the game, looked set to fall. Then Paula was put clean through on goal and neatly side-footed home the equaliser. Three minutes later from an attempted clearance, Lisa volleyed into the roof of the net to give the girls all three points.

After the whistle I crossed the pitch to where the girls were gathered. When Charley finished her team talk I went around congratulating them. I remarked on Michele’s farewell game and asked her about the ciders she said she’d got for my birthday gift. She confessed she’d forgotten to bring them today but said she’d ask Stacy to take them to the last game at Totton. As I’ve got nothing to do next weekend, and it’s easier for me to lug the ciders home from Cosham (where Michele lives) than from Totton, I said I’d come to hers on Saturday to get them.

Met up with Jade and Dave at the Carisbrooke Arms last night to celebrate my birthday with karaoke - or so we thought. Jade and I were getting pizzas from the van outside the pub when Dave phoned to say the karaoke was cancelled. It had been called off at the last minute, with a Robbie Williams tribute on instead. We decided to stay and have a drink and a chat anyway, since Ann was due to join us some time during the evening.

We found a table. I collected the card and gift Julieann had left behind the bar earlier, since she’d audio called me on Messenger to say a crisis had come up meaning she wouldn’t be able to join us. Joy of joys, they were serving Magners. Jade, Dave and I talked, then around 8.30 Ann arrived.

It was fantastic to see her, as we hadn’t met since last September, partly down to her foot trouble which she’s now recently had an operation for. She filled me in on her basketball coaching, her young lad’s sporting prowess and her new job in London that she starts soon - from a recent training day she knows the daily commute is going to be demanding but she’s steeling herself. It’s a great move for her - promotion - and I told her she’s going to be brilliant.

Ann hadn’t met Jade and Dave before but they all got on famously, happily chatting away to each other and all taking photos of us, then Ann got a chap at the next table to take a pic of us all.

The Robbie tribute was great at working the crowd. He opened up with a stormer rendition of Let Me Entertain You and made periodic moves out into the audience to interact with people, even getting one young lady on stage to serenade her with She’s The One. He included some non-Robbie songs as well, the crowd still lapped it all up. Jade went for a boogie on the dancefloor a few times and Ann hauled me up for a dance to a couple of numbers. She said afterwards that it was the first time she’d danced since her operation, and that meant a lot to her despite the pain. Naturally Angels was the big finale! We all agreed it had been a great night.

Woke up this morning decidedly groggy.

Bristol last Friday for the home leg of England’s Women’s Nations League double bill with Belgium. Alas, there was no official Free Lionesses meet-up for this one, and by the time I reached my hotel no-one on the Messenger chat group had responded to my enquiry about pre-match drinks. Meanwhile, Jules and Crystal, who were doing their own thing away from the group, replied to my message with which pub they were in, but when I said it would take me till around 4ish to reach it, Crystal said they were moving on and they’d see me at the game. So I sat in the hotel room for an hour or so watching quiz shows on the telly, slipping towards the long dark night of the soul, until Rachel finally commented on my Facebook post that she was in a city centre Spoons.

Got a bus to the pub where Rachel and Leanne were around a table with some of the new girls we’ve met at recent games. Having not had lunch because of the train times I was Hank Marvin so headed straight onto the Wetherspoons app to order grub. We talked about the game over a few drinks. The pub overlooked the Avon; we saw a large group in yellow shirts cross the bridge and soon worked out they were Belgian fans. Rachel began hurling abuse at them, thankfully the window wasn’t open.

We set off on a fan walk to the stadium. Nic, who had the route on Google Maps, said we had a long walk along Coronation Road - “not Coronation Street”. We stopped off at a pub close to the ground where there was karaoke on; a couple of the new girls stepped up and sang. On our arrival, the DJ played Three Lions, World in Motion and Sweet Caroline.

No word from Jules and Crystal with kick-off approaching, so I filed into the ground and messaged saying ‘hope to see you after the game’. The Lionesses gave a footballing masterclass, winning 5-0. Fair play to the small section of Belgian fans a few blocks down from us who kept singing throughout.

On my way out of the ground bought a Halloumi wrap from the Greek street food van. Jules messaged to say they were going to the Spoons. When I reached the pub there was a disco on with loud music pulsating through the whole joint. No sign of Jules and Crystal. I paced the smoking area in front of the pub for half an hour then they showed up. We greeted each other with hugs, got drinks at the bar, climbed the two flights of stairs to the top floor and found a table away from the speakers.

We updated each other on our news from the last few months. Jules and Crystal said how Kath was going on a local parkrun the following morning (hence her getting an early night instead of joining us at the pub - “she sends her love”) and, as it was her ‘Cowell’ (100th different parkrun venue), they were going to surprise her by turning up to support her, then present her with a specially decorated cake after the run. And, of course, Crystal waxed lyrical about her Mary Earps fandom, and I finally learned the full story about the guy who mistook her for Mary in the pub in Norwich last summer.

Flew to Belgium on Monday for the second England Women encounter. At Brussels Airport-Zaventem train station, knowing Brussels is predominantly French-speaking I asked the ticket desk lady for “un aller simple à Louvain”. She was about to sell me a ticket to the Walloon town of Louvain-la-Neuve. I had to say “Vous avez dit Louvain-la-Neuve? Non, c’est Louvain. En néerlandais, Leuven.”

Her eyes lit up. “Leuven!” She sold me the right ticket.

At first I was a little puzzled, since French-speaking Belgians are usually reluctant to call towns by their Dutch names. On the platform it dawned on me. Zaventem, where Brussels Airport is located, is in Flanders. The ticket desk lady was probably a Fleming. Flemings are none too keen on being addressed in French, and although the ticket desk lady was fluent in French - she needed to be, working at the airport station - calling Flemish towns by their French names when talking to Flemings is a no-no. Oops.

Arrived at the Ibis and spotted to my delight that the table football table was still in the lobby. Messaged the group to ask if anyone would be out on the Oude Markt that night. Rachel responded. I moseyed down there at about 8 pm and met Leanne and a couple of her pals walking along. Alas, to my suggestion of us getting a few beers, they said they were going back to their hotel to get an early night. I learned the following day that they’d come by coach from Leeds to Brussels so were pretty shattered.

I popped into the Bar Louvain for a Trappistes Rochefort 8. Rachel messaged to say her train at Brussels Airport had been cancelled so she had a 25 minute wait. I wandered down to one of the friteries at the top end of the street for a portion of Belgian loaded fries. Rachel arrived and asked where she could get a Hoegaarden Rosee. Her favourite Belgian beer, she hadn’t had one since our last visit to Leuven 18 months ago. We found a little bar with it on the menu. When she got her Hoegaarden Rosee, she filmed it for Instagram saying how long she’d been waiting for one. We sat out at the front drinking, chatting and reminiscing about past trips until past midnight.

There was a fan meet-up at Bar Nine on Tuesday afternoon. Rachel and Leanne were both there, as were Gary the Orient fan and Maisie and her entourage. Basil was walking around taking down England fans’ contact details and teams supported. He called me a “mixed up character” on my describing myself as a supporter of AFC Portchester men and an ex-Notts County Ladies fan, though he acknowledged “it wasn’t your fault they folded”. I met Nina, a personal tutor who was originally from Portsmouth and now lived in Windsor, and Colby, an American fella who had fallen in love with the England women’s team during the last World Cup and had flown across the pond to see them for the first time.

You couldn’t go up to the bar to buy drinks at Bar Nine; you had to wait for a waiter or waitress to come to your table and order. They were mostly a restaurant, but Rachel got so fed up with the length of time waiting that she went to the nearby McDonald’s. One waiter, though, was a friendly chap who was a keen supporter of the local men’s team OH Leuven and very enthusiastic about his national women’s team.

We were joined by Nick and Steve, two guys from the FA who mingled, asking several of us about our support of the Lionesses. Nick was impressed with my recently attaining my century.

Leanne, Maisie and Co started the fan walk to the stadium quite early. Again we split into two groups, following different routes depending on which online map someone was looking at. We re-merged at a crossroads close to the stadium. Because we’d set off early, the gates were still shut when we arrived. Rachel and Nicola were desperate for the loo so kept calling out to the steward to open up. In the meantime we had the thrill of seeing the Lionesses bus arrive. Maisie and a couple of others went down to the front to wave to the players.

In the end we got let in. We were all frisked by stewards but nobody said anything about power banks, and the steward didn’t touch the pocket of my coat with mine in anyway. The girls found to their consternation that the Ladies’ toilet Portakabin had just three cubicles. Some women ended up using the Gents. We hung around on the old terraces that now form a smokers’ area, and on the remains of the athletics track that circled the pitch before the current stand was built, till kick-off drew nearer and we went to our seats.

Unlike the previous Friday, Belgium had their star striker Tessa Wullaert, back from injury. We sat shell-shocked as Belgium went through England like a warm knife through butter and went three up within half an hour. Tessa Wullaert knocked in two crosses either side of a looping header from Justine Vanhaevermaet. Just before the break a Beth Mead penalty gave us a sliver of hope.

Niamh Charles and Millie Bright, who’d both been ineffective at the back, were substituted at half-time. Some needle crept into the play after the break. Lucy Bronze went down in the box but was booked for diving and backchat. Later Lucy was subjected to an unpunished bodycheck, but after that the ref dealt out cards impartially to both sides. Despite the edge, it was an entertaining game, especially after the moment that really set it alight. Michelle Agyemang came on as sub, and, 41 seconds later, scored a worldie with a volley through the Belgian defence, right in front of us. The closing stages were edge of your seat stuff but the Belgians held on.

As we waited for Leanne and a couple of the others to use the loo, Rachel held forth about the team’s shortcomings. She went on to denounce the shortage of toilet facilities, adding fancifully “We’d have won if we’d had more cubicles”. News of Arsenal men beating Real Madrid ameliorated her disappointment and that of the other Gooners present.

We ambled back to the Oude Markt. Rachel and I were up for karaoke at Baraoke, but one of the others said we’d be doing it in a separate room by ourselves so they weren’t that keen, and we went on to Ambiorix where Champions’ League highlights were showing on a big screen in the area out front. I got a Trappistes Rochefort 10 and we all chatted and talked future matches until one by one we said goodbyes and drifted back to our hotels.

Flying home on Wednesday, I kept earnestly hoping the flight from Brussels to Amsterdam wouldn’t be delayed as I had only a 50 minute layover. We were a bit late taking off but, mercifully, landed a few minutes early. I got off the plane quick and barrelled towards passport control. I approached the short connection lane, but the officer there pointed me towards the adjacent electronic passport gates where, happily, there were no queues. I went through the gate and an officer at a table stamped me out of the EU. I made it to the departure gate comfortably.

Switching my phone back on after landing at Southampton, I saw a message from KLM to say my checked-in bag had been left behind in Amsterdam. After passing passport control, where the officer asked where I’d been and said he’d seen the match on telly, in the baggage reclaim area I called baggage enquiries on the internal phone. A lady told me to meet her at the KLM check-in desk in departures. She was waiting there for me and went through a delayed baggage form with me, filling it in.

Thursday lunchtime at work the airport phoned to say my bag had arrived. A courier delivered it to my home in the afternoon.

Saw Showaddywaddy at Fareham Live on Saturday night. Sadly poor Jade was too ill to come. Clad in brightly coloured long suits, they put on a great show, playing all their hit singles, and called for a special round of applause for Romeo Challenger, the one original member still in the group. Of course everyone was up and bopping to Under The Moon Of Love!

Sunday over to the Isle of Wight to see the Portchester Ladies Reserves at Shanklin in the Hampshire Women’s Trophy quarterfinal. Called at a very nice little cafe called Blueberry’s for lunch then wandered on to the ground.

As they came off from their pre-match warm-up, Kalli, Stacy and Michele said they’d messaged me on the ferry, thinking I was on the same car ferry as them. Checking my Facebook I noticed they had indeed commented that they were on Deck 4. I explained that I’d taken the FastCat. Stacy said they’d all be going on to a pub called The Sloop, “near the car ferry”, and urged me to join them - though she apologetically said they had no car space. I guessed, though, that even taking the bus I’d have time at least for a drink with them, and couldn’t resist a ferry trip back with the girls so went on the Wightlink website and booked a foot passenger ticket.

Shanklin took the lead midway through the first half. Millie in goal, and Lisa and Stacy in defence, kept them at bay the rest of the time, but the Shanklin defence soaked up all Portchester’s counter-attacks. It seemed the girls were heading for their first defeat of the season until, in the last minute of the game, Portchester were awarded a free kick just outside the area. Stacy took it and unleashed a banana-kick that curled behind the keeper and into the net. Cue wild celebrations from me and the substitutes.

And so it was penalties. Liz, Lynsey and Stacy all scored; so did Shanklin’s first three kickers. Michele scored. Shanklin’s fourth taker skied it over the bar. Bella stepped up and struck home sweet and low to win the match. I hung around to clap the girls off the pitch and congratulate them then power-walked to the bus stop in Lamorbey Road.

I had to take one bus to a stop on the outskirts of Newport, then cross the road and get one to Wootton Bridge. The Sloop was close by. The girls, of course, were either well into their meals or already finished, but they were made up to see me. They’d saved me a seat at the end of the table, opposite Stacy and Michele. Stacy bought me a Rekorderlig then I headed straight for the carvery. I requested a four meat medley from the friendly black chef, who, seeing my team hat, asked if I was the coach.

“I’m just a supporter. The older lady with the long blonde hair is the coach.”

The chef declared himself a supporter of our team, and said he was going to ask for a photo with us. As I was back at the table tucking into the excellent food, he did come over to us, and the daughter of one of the players took a pic of him with us all.

Charley and Lisa said they had room in their minibus and offered me a lift to Gosport. We drove along to the car ferry and parked in the waiting lane as directed by the ferry steward. I hopped out to go and check in as a foot passenger. After finding no staff in the terminal building, where most of the girls were drinking tea and coffee, I walked all the way up to the front entrance booth, where the man told me to go down the path on the right-hand side. I followed the path right down to a metal gate by the place where the ferry was due to dock.

The boat arrived, I boarded with the handful of other foot passengers, then climbed the several flights of metal stairs to Deck 4, figuring that was likely to be the girls’ hangout again. Sure enough Paula soon found me, followed closely by the others. We spent the journey back discussing upcoming matches, the girls’ lives with their partners and their jobs, and, after my mentioning that I’ve given up chocolate for Lent, everyone’s favourite chocolate - Kalli asked Lynsey whether she’d be getting an Easter egg from her.

The call came and we made our way down to the minibus. As we sat waiting to be let off, the girls went on talking about all sorts. Never a dull moment with these lasses. I observed that I wished I’d been with them from the start of the season and written a fly-on-the-wall memoir. Charley reckoned it would have been a best seller.

Charley and Lisa dropped off the Fareham based girls then headed on into Gosport, dropping each of the Gosport based girls and then me.

Wednesday I travelled up to see the Portchester Ladies Reserves at Windsor & Eton in the Combined Counties League Women’s Cup. Walking from Windsor & Eton Riverside station round to the bus stop, the castle towers over the road.

Stayed at a B&B where a very nice lady called Caroline showed me around. Unpacked then chilled in front of the telly until it was time to stroll over to the ground.

Stag Meadow has changed a bit since my previous visit in 2006. The terraces behind the goal that I stood on then are gone; the areas behind the goals are fenced off, presumably earmarked for future development. After a chat with assistant manager Kev (Charley couldn’t make this one) and saying hello to the girls as they warmed up on a patch of grass at the back, I headed for the bar and met Trevor. Catch-up chat with him over a pint.

Stacy and Michele were absent because of childcare commitments, Paula and Kat were also missing, and a couple of third team players had been drafted in to make up the numbers. Windsor opened the scoring after a few minutes, Kalli equalised almost straight away, moments later Windsor got a second. I remarked to the two third team girls’ mothers behind me “It’s going to end up something like 5-5.” In the end Portchester were 3-2 up at half time, then stepped up a gear after the break and ran out 6-3 winners.

As the players came off Kalli, Lynsey and Sophie B thanked me for coming. Kev asked if I wanted a lift home and I explained that I was staying over. He said he lived in Gosport, and always to ask him if I wanted a lift to a midweek away match, and we exchanged phone numbers.

Thursday Caroline was an A1 hostess again serving breakfast. Train back. Home in time for Crown Court.

Fareham Live this afternoon for The Merchant of Venice 1936. With several abridgments, Shakespeare’s text was left intact, except for Shylock and Gobbo being women and referenced as ‘she’, the Prince of Morocco becoming a Maharajah, and the occasional ‘Venetian’ becoming ‘Englishman’ to fit the action being relocated to 1936 East London.

The play opened with Shylock and a seated company at dinner, with lighting of Jewish candles and Hebrew prayers and toasts. Next came a newspanel and clip of British Union of Fascists activity in 1936; these were interspersed between scenes throughout. As well as being assistant director, Tracy-Ann Oberman played Shylock. She was superb. Georgie Fellows was good, playing Portia as a shrewd socialite. Several of the characters antagonistic to Shylock appeared as Blackshirts; at the start of one scene a drunken Graziano urinated on the synagogue door singing an anti-Semitic song.

At the climax, after a defeated Shylock has slunk offstage (with a suitcase) and Portia and Nerissa reveal their possession of the rings to their errant husbands, a clip of Cable Street on 4 October 1936 appeared, the actors playing the anti-Semites removed their distinguishing apparel to transform into ordinary East Londoners, and Tracy-Ann returned to the stage for the whole cast to erect a barricade with a ‘They Shall Not Pass’ banner. Tracy-Ann then broke character to tell the audience how her great-grandmother was on the barricades in Cable Street, how ordinary Londoners of all communities turned out to support the Jewish residents, and how similar scenes played out in Leeds, Liverpool and Southampton.

A stunning piece of theatre.

London on Wednesday for Lionesses v Spain at Wembley. After the draw in Portugal, opinion in the Blue Check varied from confident predictions of a win to grim forecasts of defeat. Said hellos to Rachel, Deb, Lindsay, Maisie and Ash. Was standing at the bar when Jill, Steph and Alice, who I hadn’t known were coming, came in. Steph exclaimed with joyful surprise how I was the first person they saw as they walked in. We found a table together and passed the time catching up, discussing our women’s sport crushes and lamenting the diminished fortunes of the England women’s cricket team. We were all delighted for Chloe Kelly on her loan move to Arsenal and return to the England squad. Ricky, a fellow AFC Portchester fan, came over and engaged me in conversation about his footballing travels and asked me about my support for the women’s game.

We walked over to Wembley Way. Steph said they were in the Blue section this time. She recalled that they’d been in Purple for the USA game and it had been very posh there. I observed that that figured, with Purple being the royal colour. My ticket was in Green. As we went up the steps Steph asked if I was sitting with anyone. I replied no, I was on my own.

“We’ve got a spare ticket. Come and join us. It means you’ll be in Blue,” she added, chuckling. So I joined them moseying round to the Blue section. When we got through the entrance I to,d the others I was heading for the Gents. Jill said they’d be by the Gin Bar. Coming out of the loo, I was Hank Marvin so made for one of the kiosks for excellent chicken tenders and chips.

I met the girls by the Gin Bar and we headed for our seats. What a match. Wee Jess Park sweeping home an attempted clearance from Alessia Russo’s shot after her jinking run into the box, for what turned out to be the only goal of the game. And getting to watch with friends. After the final whistle, as Sweet Caroline blared out, Steph and I realised that we’d now twice sat together to watch the Lionesses beat the then world champions.

The girls didn’t much fancy the noise and crowd back at Blue Check. As we were all in the same hotel we went to the bar there for more of a chinwag - our women’s sport crushes again featuring heavily - and a few more sherbets.

Met up with Jade tonight for karaoke at the White Hart. We agreed that their karaoke system makes us sound better than the one at the Foresters. I sang Sit Down and Girl From Mars, felt comfortable about my renditions of both, and had a few people compliment me. One of the barmaids was dressed as Amy Winehouse, capturing her look perfectly. Naturally she opened the evening singing Tears Dry On Their Own.

To the Shoe Zone in Fareham this morning. Although the Hobos I’ve usually bought from there usually only last me a few months, at least they’re comfortable.

I’ve been a size 12 since fourth year of senior school. Tried on a few pairs of flat slip-on size 12s and found getting my feet into them a bit of a squash. Tried the same style as one of them - not Hobos but similar - in a 13 and they were most comfortable and didn’t flop about at the back. So they were the ones.

Consigned my previous pair to the firefighters’ clothes bank.

Jade and I had arranged to meet at Fleetlands v Whitchurch United this afternoon. Was nearing the ground with a hour to kick-off when she phoned to say the match was off. I looked at Twitter and, sure enough, the match referee had deemed the pitch unplayable just twenty minutes earlier.

We went for our KFC anyway then got the bus to the Sailmaker and had a catch up chat, and groused about the cancellation of the match, over a few coffees and hot chocolates. I was feeling particularly aggrieved, as the game being called off so late deprived me of a badge on Futbology for attending a game on Stanley Matthews’ birthday, and I won’t get another chance to get that badge for six years.

Bus home. At a loose end for the rest of the afternoon. Went for a lie down with Radio Solent on.

Round to Portchester today to see the Ladies’ Reserves face City Ladies in the Hampshire Women’s Intermediate Cup. Warm effusive greetings from Michele and Stacy when I arrived. Got a bit of a chat with Charlie the manager before the game. Sophie, Kat, Lynsey and Jess all pleased to see me. After twenty minutes or so of Portchester pressure without a goal, City Ladies opened the scoring, chipping a free kick from 25 yards out straight over the wall and into the top of the net. Lisa headed home an equaliser with a few minutes of the half left.

In the second half it was all Portchester. Butch knocked in a ball sent across the goalmouth by Eira, and a goalward header from Lisa looked to me to have glanced off a defender’s head for an own goal, but Charlie insisted “That was definitely Lisa’s goal!” Stacy later concurred with that view on Facebook.

An evening chilling in front of the telly before returning to work in the morning.

Biblical rain overnight washed out AFC Portchester Ladies’ scheduled League Cup tie with Wimborne Town Women today.

Learned of the postponement while watching The Big Job on Talking Pictures TV. A lesser fan would have settled for a day indoors with feet up in front of the telly partaking of leftover Christmas nibbles. But after the warm welcome from Stacy, Michele and the rest of the Portchester Ladies reserves at their game before Christmas, the news that their game at Winchester City Flyers Reserves was on was my cue to head there.

My train from Fareham to Eastleigh was delayed, missing the connection direct to Winchester; I had to take one changing at Southampton Airport Parkway. By the time I arrived at Winchester station rain was pelting down so I headed straight for the front taxi at the rank rather than the 25 minute walk to the ground.

The Portchester players were over by the far perimeter fence. Kevin, the assistant coach, said hello and shook my hand. Stacy, Michele and Lynsey all came over to say hi; Michele asked how my train journey had been and asked Kat if they could give me a lift after the game. Kat agreed.

There were a couple of dozen other spectators, most naturally supporting the home side, but I think the couple sat just along from me were either favouring Portchester or neutral as they were unfamiliar with the Winchester team. Also near me was Hayley, an old friend from Portsmouth Women who’s now Winchester City Flyers’ media lady.

Winchester opened the scoring about halfway through the first half, but almost immediately Stacy equalised with a beautiful volley from outside the box. At one point Michele was right by the perimeter fence in front of the stand when the ball went out of play. I yelled “Go on Miche” and got a smile and a wave.

Early in the second half Portchester got a penalty. Alas, Stacy shot it high and wide. Later Elena Butcher scored a brace to give Portchy the win.

Sam, a first team squadder and my sponsee, turned out for the reserves today. As the players came off the pitch she stopped to clutch hands with me and asked if I’d be watching the firsts next week. She said the state of the Portchester pitch this morning, they might have had a decent game of water polo but not football.

Michele and Kat came back out of the changing room before long and motioned me to follow them. Sophie, another of the team, travelled with us. On the drive the three girls picked the bones of the game. I mentioned that I thought Michele, Stacy and Kat all played well and that it was three points well earned. We dropped Sophie on her estate in Bursledon then we said our goodbyes to Kat at her house, also in Bursledon, where Michele’s car was parked. She and I compared Christmases, New Years and personal lives on the way to Fareham, where she dropped me, and I moseyed on to Rancho’s Steakhouse.