Out there I feel sad not to see her no more

To London yesterday morning to see Crystal play for Casa FC Porto of London Women vs Polytechnic FC Women. The Amateur FA London Women’s League, real grass roots. The game was played on one of the grass pitches behind the Douglas Eyre Sports Centre in Walthamstow. A little nostalgic being back in East London, albeit not a part I’d visited before.

I arrived at the pitch at 9.50, ten minutes before kick-off. Crystal was warming up with the goalkeeping coach, but waved to me. Steph, the team’s player-manager, who’d been replying to my emails enquiring about the game, guessed who I was, came over and greeted me warmly. She asked if I was a friend of Crystal, then pointed out her husband Dave and a couple of friends of theirs. As the players came over to gather on the touchline for a huddle before going into the pitch for kick-off, Crystal came up to me, asked if I’d come up from Gosport and let me hug and kiss her. Eno, the coach, came over and introduced himself to me just before they went into the huddle.

I talked to Dave about my friendship with Crystal through our both following the Lionesses. Naturally that led into chat about my travels with England Women. Dave told me how there’d been a Portuguese chap at his workplace with a connection to FC Porto, and how he’d told him Steph had had a newly formed women’s team ready to launch, and that had led to Porto officially embracing this team as an affiliate.

One of their lady friends was telling another how she was going to see a play about Helen of Troy, set in modern-day Essex, that night. As that was right up my street, I asked her about it and she said it was on in Stratford. I went on the Theatre Royal Stratford East’s website and it’s running for one more week. As I land in London at tea time next Saturday after the game in Heraklion, I booked a ticket to see the play that night. It fits that I’ll be seeing it just after returning from Greece.

The Porto players were a lively lot. It was rolling subs, and the players who were off the pitch at any given time cheered their team-mates and chatted enthusiastically. They do have several Portuguese girls on the team; one of them, Cristiana, was player of the match, scoring twice in a 4-2 win. Another Porto player, Alessia, scored one, prompting Steph, who’d limped off with cramp, to observe “No hangover from the champagne!” I asked if there’d been a do the night before, and one of the other girls said “She’s a sommelier.” She added that when they’re eating out Alessia goes down the wine list and says “That’s a good one…that’s not so good…that one’s lovely…”

At the end of the game several of the players’ friends congratulated them and Crystal came over to me for another kiss. The players had a post-match debrief from Steph then did stretches for a while, then Crystal and I did a quick photo and she said “See you in Greece”. Steph thanked me for coming again and they all headed off to the changing rooms and I set off on the long walk round to Blackhorse Road tube.

Yesterday was Saints Women’s first home match of the season, at their new home, Eastleigh’s ground. With replacement buses in place of trains, I made my way there via a combination of regular buses.

Thank goodness Eastleigh FC are thoughtful enough to put a sign up by the entrance warning us that the Hangar Bar can only be accessed from outside the ground. I made my way round and ordered a Kopparberg and - since there didn’t appear to be any menus in evidence so I thought there were only bar snacks on offer - a packet of nuts. Then, once seated at a table, I noticed one family had food and that a couple of other tables had Sunday menus on. Oops.

In the ground, though, the burger with onions and chips from the Spitfire Grill were first class. On my way to the stand Emma, who I met at the Voice of the Beehive reunion gig in 2017 and have stayed in touch with on Facebook since but not actually met again, came up and said hello. We compared notes on where we were sitting.

Two minutes in Ellie Brazil appeared to have nodded into the net, drawing a cheer, but the goalie went round behind the goal to retrieve the ball and we realised it had gone over. Saints continued to dominate, but the only time they got the ball into the net, Amy Goddard sliding it home from a corner, it was disallowed.

At half time I wandered over to the next block to see Emma. She had a spare seat next to her and was happy for me to join her for the rest of the game. She introduced me to her mum on her other side. While her mum went for a cuppa Emma told me her mum was 86 and doing well. We chatted through the break. We reminisced about the Beehive gig then Emma told me how she’d played for the original Southampton Women’s reserves in the 80s, and that they’d broken away and set up as a separate club, Solent. She’d started in adult women’s football at 13 as there were no girls’ teams in those days. She had very fond memories of Lynda Hale, one of the original Southampton players and one of the founding England Lionesses.

Both teams had a couple of chances in the second half but the game ended 0-0. Emma and I said our goodbyes and said we’d look out for each other at the Forest match at St Mary’s. Following Google Maps’ travel advice, I got the bus to the Swan Centre for Eastleigh station, but as I walked along towards the station I realised I’d better get to the loo before spending an hour or so on a rail replacement bus.

So I detoured into the Wagon Works. Having visited the Gents I had to buy a pint, ruling me out of the replacement bus that was leaving in a couple of minutes. So I settled in the pub until the next bus an hour later.

To Sandhurst for Portchester Ladies Reserves’ first friendly, with Aldershot.

Arriving at Sandhurst station with 25 minutes until noon I moseyed along the High Street, stopped in a busy cafe for a quick coffee, then found a pleasant looking pub, the Rose and Crown, and ordered a chicken Sunday roast. Sitting with a Rekorderlig, still waiting for my food at 12.45, a barman approached and awkwardly asked me to move. He said I’d picked the one table in the place that was reserved, from 1pm. I dropped down onto a ground-level table nearby; my food was delivered soon after, fortunately straight to me. The grub was very good though.

On to the ground, which was in the middle of a park. There were no refreshments of any kind on offer - the clubhouse and the tea bar were both resolutely shut. I went over to where the Portchester girls were warming up and saw only two familiar faces, Brooke and Lily. After saying my hellos I wandered round to the stand. One of the Aldershot guys was having a bit of trouble getting into a row of seats; his mate at the back said “Put your left leg in” so I sang “Put your left leg out”. The guy trying to access the seats told me “No reciprocal singing, thank you. I know the Woodpecker song. There’s ladies and children present.” There was a family there who were related to one of the new girls on our team so I found a shady seat near them.

Portchester lost 4-0, Brooke coming off at half time (it was her first game back since being injured in April) and then another girl limping off injured early in the second half; as we only had one sub we had to play with ten the rest of the game. The new girl’s mum told one of her companions that Portchy had a total of 11 girls who’d declared themselves unavailable (presumably holidays accounted for some of them; despite the talk at the wedding of Paula being in, there was no sign of her), hence today’s makeshift team.

After saying goodbye to Brooke and Lily it was a little stroll across the park to the Sandhurst Sports Club for a much needed drink. A week after the World Cup ended, they still had their bunting up with the flags of all the competing countries and several England flags.

Went up to Liverpool on Monday for the Lionesses’ match with Ukraine. A sense of anti-climax was inevitable, since barring Spain dropping a point in Iceland, which wasn't considered a possibility outside the funny farm, the game was a dead rubber. England are facing two rounds of play-offs to reach the World Cup, and the outcome of this game would have no bearing on our seeding in the draw.

The Lime Street Premier Inn was pleasant as Premier Inns always are. Watched some telly. Went for a little walk around the area in the early evening. Found a shopping centre with a food court but most of the stalls were shut. Got a sub at Subway, meandered back to the hotel and settled down for the soaps.

Met Leanne, Jessica and a couple of others at breakfast on Tuesday. In the afternoon the fan meet-up was at Pins Social Club. Saw Deb, but never got a chat with her as she was always either frantically haring around organising things (she did a screening of a video message from Jill Scott, then towards the end of her Sport Relief bike ride) or beavering away on her laptop. Spoke to Rachel and a couple of others, but nobody seemed to comprehend my genuine fear of the Lionesses missing out on next summer's World Cup. They all seemed certain that we'd breeze through the play-off rounds. My pointing out that our potential second-round opponents include Belgium and that we always lose away to them didn't register.

Apart from the message from Jill, and activities devoted to kids, this gathering was a pretty sedate affair. The one bright spot for me was the excellent chicken burger and waffle fries and a Schneider Weisse Hefeweizen.

I said my goodbyes and got a football special bus over to the new Everton ground, where I was due to meet Lynsey in the Bramley Moore pub. It wasn't long before she arrived and we caught up on all her news over a Rekorderlig and she held forth at length about the current Everton Women squad and who she thought they should retain and sign this summer. She recommended that I try a Toffee Doughnut from the refreshment stalls.

From there I went to the stadium main entrance to hopefully meet Kathy and try and get a glimpse of Jill Scott at the conclusion of her bike ride. In the event the crowd was just too dense for me and many others to see Jill, though we could hear someone interview her, relayed through speakers. Kathy and I didn't find each other either.

Having just passed through the turnstile, I got a momentary thrill when a familiar voice called my name. I turned to see Crystal. We hugged and kissed, then she said she and some work colleagues had hospitality tickets and that it had been a last-minute thing. We hoped for a moment that we might end up together, but, alas, after that briefest of brief encounters, my ticket took me down a different channel from the one she and her friends were heading along.

I got a Toffee Doughnut. Very tasty. England went through the motions, labouring to a pedestrian 3-0 win over Ukraine, rendered moot by Spain running up six goals in Reykjavik. The one encouraging thing was an impressive performance by Maya Le Tissier, which staked a serious claim for her to be the starting right-back - as much as I love Lucy Bronze I think it's time for Le Tiss to come in now. Hope Sarina took note.

The hotel bar was shut when I got back. Long trek home today, changing at Wolverhampton and Southampton. Back to work tomorrow. Meh.

Sad news. FC Romania have folded, since Cheshunt were unwilling to continue the ground-sharing arrangement and the ‘Roms’ were unable to find another ground in or around London willing to accommodate them.

I loved my visits to FC Romania. The people there were always very friendly and made me most welcome. I have a social commitment in Gosport on Saturday evenings so wasn’t able to make it up there as often as I’d have liked. But that commitment is switching to Fridays in a year’s time, so come the 2027/28 season I intended to travel to see the ‘Roms’ about 12-15 times and renew acquaintances.

Goodbye to that.

Gutted.

Flew from Heathrow to Reykjavik on Friday for the Lionesses’ match with Iceland. Met Amanda at the departure gate. We talked for a bit about past Lionesses matches we’d attended, European trips she’d done with Leicester City men, and the fortunes of our teams. Martin, sitting in the disability seats, called out to us and we waved back.

The three-hour flight went like a charm. Amanda and I were sat a few rows apart. At passport control my passport wasn’t stamped; instead they fingerprinted me and had me look into a little screen that took a photo of me. The passport control officer asked if I was there for the football. When I said yes he said “One of the girls on our team is from here, Keflavik.”

Amanda waited for me to collect my bag (she was travelling light) and we went to get the bus to the city centre. Martin sat opposite us and we spent the journey chatting about Leicester City Women’s prospects of avoiding relegation, the current fortunes of Bristol City Women and my season following Atlético London. Amanda asked why I’d chosen them over Portsmouth Women or Southampton FC Women and I explained that I’d begun following Atleti’s predecessor club while living within a commuter ride of the capital, and that I have a sentimental attachment to East London and have formed a bit of a friendship with a couple of the players. “I’ve been to see Pompey and Saints women, and the emotional tie just isn’t there.”

At the bus station, as we were carrying bags we headed for the taxi rank. We tried asking the taxi driver how much it would be to our hotel, but he just said “it’s on the meter”. We decided to take the cab anyway and the cost didn’t end up too bad.

We got checked in and agreed to meet at the fan meet-up next day. There was a surreal moment when the warm friendly reception lady said there was tourist tax to pay - and quoted me the figure in euros. I said “How much in kronur?” She said “it’s in euros on here”. I said I only had kronur (most of my funds were actually on my Asda Travel Moneycard but that was also all in kronur). She typed something into her PC, came up with the kronur figure and I paid with a couple of the few notes I’d brought.

I asked the lady where I could get something to eat. She peeled a map of Reykjavik from the top of a pad of them in front of her, and showed me the location of a food court called Boga 29 a short walk along the main road. I dumped my bags, moseyed over to Boga 29 and got an ‘Olympus Hero’ wrap from a Greek food stall, and settled down for a quiet evening.

Saturday morning was the England fan meet-up at Hallgrimskirkja church, a Reykjavik landmark. The lovely Deb was organising of course, and Rachel, Leanne and Lindsey were there so had catch-up chats with them until we were lined up for the group photo.

We went on a fan walk to Rainbow Street, where the tarmac of the road is painted with rainbow stripes. Rachel insisted on only standing on the red stripe, one of her superstitions. We did another photo there.

From there we walked to a square where there was a pub literally called The English Pub. I got an Icelandic beer, Gull, and found a table outside next to Rachel and her gang. The bar was showing the Scotland v England women’s rugby match, but with it being a sunny day lots of us opted to sit at the many tables out the front.

It wasn’t long before Jill and Steph arrived, together with a new friend they’d made en route, Liz, and they came and sat at my table. We supped Gull and chatted, taking a break for a visit to a nearby food stall selling sub sandwiches (called ‘boats’ in Iceland) for lunch. Liz told us she was a Coventry City fan living in Leeds. Jill and Steph mourned Leicester City men’s impending relegation while Liz was quietly chuffed with Coventry men’s promotion. The Gull flowed, with one of Rachel’s friends keeping us updated on the Red Roses’ annihilation of Scotland, until Deb called us all to go inside. She played us a video message from Sarina Wiegman thanking us for making the trip, then did a prize draw with various goodies at stake.

From there Jill, Steph, Liz and I walked to Liz’s hotel where she needed to fetch something, then on to the stadium. Laugadursvöllur, Iceland’s national stadium, would be modest by English standards - two stands, 9000 capacity - but you have to remember Iceland is a small country. The view of the snow-covered mountains behind the stadium was spectacular. Jill, Steph, Liz and I agreed to meet after the game in a corner of the concourse and separated to our seats.

I was in the very front row. When I posted my photo of the teams lined up ready for the anthems on Instagram, Gem commented from home almost straight away to say she’d just seen me on telly posting on my phone. Legendary Lionesses fan Basil ran down to the front of the aisle, right next to my seat, and spent most of the first half leading us in songs. After he’d led us in the na-na section from Hey Jude with ‘Hey Jude’ changed to ‘England’, he shouted across the barrier at the Iceland fans “That is our answer to your thunderclap! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! The Icelanders did do their thunderclap several times during the game, and it was mightily impressive.

On the field England dominated early on but didn’t break through the Iceland defence until the 21st minute when Lauren Hemp darted up the middle and fed Alessia Russo, who turned on a sixpence and struck a beautiful low shot into the corner.

In the second half Georgia Stanway and Beth Mead came close. Throughout the last quarter hour Iceland gave us several scary moments. It was thanks to some magnificent goalkeeping from Hannah Hampton and a great display of defending by substitute Lotte Wubben-Moy that England held on for the win. We clapped the team after the final whistle and I went to the agreed meeting point in the corner of the concourse.

Rachel stopped by me as I waited for Jill, Steph and Liz. She said the President of Iceland had been at the match and her car had just left the car park - its registration number is 1. She went off somewhere with her group just as Steph, Jill, Liz and Alice came down the steps.

We made our way out to the bus stop, got a bus into the city centre and headed for a pub called the Litli Dubliner. We spent the rest of the evening - until chucking-out time - drinking (Gull in my, Jill and Steph’s case, Guinness in Liz’s) and talking about the game (we conceded Iceland had been unlucky not to get a draw), past Lionesses travels, and the women’s club game.

Liz confessed that she doesn’t follow a women’s club team, partly because living in Leeds her nearest WSL teams are the Manchester two and she’s not keen on the men’s sides of those clubs, while Coventry City Ladies are in the grass roots leagues and get little support from the main club. Naturally Jill and Steph tried to win her over to Leicester City Women while Alice tried to persuade her to convert to the Arsenal Women faith. For some reason, at that point I thought Liz’s name was Sue, so I said “Sue, can I interest you in Ipswich Town Women?”

She said “No, and it’s Liz.” She was smiling, thank goodness. After I apologised Alice said “It’s all right, she doesn’t like Arsenal so you can call her what you like.” She turned to face Liz and added “Sue,” laughing.

Later a local sitting at the adjacent table tried talking to us in a stream of Icelandic a couple of times. Getting no reply, he said to us “Islenska?” I told the others “He’s asking if we speak Icelandic.” We told him no. It wasn’t long before he mustered enough English to ask where we were from. We said England, and he asked if we were lost. We explained we’d been there for the women’s football international. He asked Steph if she was an England player, sending the girls into hysterics. Next he asked me if I was a football manager, then if I was a football club owner. Perhaps I look like an eccentric millionaire who prefers to dress down.

His next thing was thinking some of us were related to each other; he asked all of us if that was the case, starting with asking Steph if Alice was her daughter. We all had a good laugh. Alice joked about what relations the rest of us could be, deciding I was her dad. When the last bell rang we rose from our seats and began putting our coats on. The Icelander asked if we were leaving. “Yes,” I said indicating Steph, “the wife and I have got to be going.”

We staggered along until the roads to our hotels diverged, then said our goodbyes with kisses and hugs.

Bit of a tender head on Sunday morning. Amanda and I met after breakfast, checked out, and with plenty of time to spare she showed me a couple of landmarks on our way into the town centre. We saw Hofdi House, where Reagan and Gorbachev held their summit in 1986, and a metal sculpture of a ship, the Sun Voyager. Amanda agreed to stop at a shop where I spotted postcards on sale. Even better, the shop assistant had international stamps. I got the postcard written, and we spotted a postbox a little way along the side street so I sent it off to Ann.

We reached the bus station just as a bus to the airport was about to leave. We were booked on a later one but one of the station staff told us we could board the one that was going. Amanda was allowed to get straight on, but the lady courier said I’d have to check the larger of my two bags into the baggage compartment. When I’d done that I returned to the bus entrance, where the lady courier said “You get on, your wife is already on board.” I told Amanda about that; she said “People usually mistake me for a fella, so I’ll take that.”

From being on the earlier bus, we got to the airport about noon, with our flight due at 4.10 pm - much to Amanda’s relief, as we’d got an email saying there might be a delay passing passport control as they were short-staffed.

We got some lunch and the coffee we’d been craving all morning. We browsed around the souvenir shops. I treated myself to some marzipan-flavoured and liquorice-flavoured Icelandic chocolate, and got a fridge magnet for my mother.

We breezed straight through passport control, which Amanda couldn’t resist commenting on. All I had to do was look into the screen - no fingerprints this time.

We got boarded on time but the flight was 25 minutes or so late taking off. A lady flight attendant asked if I was travelling alone, and when I said yes, she didn’t seduce me like the train guard and the ship steward in Carry On, Follow That Camel 🤣 but she did offer me the chance to move to a seat next to an empty one, which I gladly accepted. Bonus, my new seat was one row in front of, and just across the aisle from, Amanda. I knew it would be late when we landed back at Heathrow so ordered a chicken korma on the flight - quite tasty.

When we landed Amanda and I disembarked together but we got separated in the mass of bodies going up the staircases to passport control. We spotted each other again in the lines to go through the e-gates, and said “See you in Palma” with a handshake.

Travelled up to Norwich yesterday for Atlético London’s last game of the season, away at Wroxham, today. Staying in the Norwich Nelson Premier Inn as it’s familiar to me and handy for the station.

Short hop on the train from Norwich to Hoveton & Wroxham. Pleasant walk to the ground. On the way along Hoveton’s main street was Charlotte’s Creamery, an ice cream stall selling a wide variety of flavours run by a friendly lady. She was talking to the couple she was serving about the hurdles she faced importing some of her goods because of Brexit. I went for a waffle cone with two scoops - Turkish delight and bubble gum flavours - very tasty.

I arrived outside the ground as a few Atlético people were pulling up in cars. We said hello and walked round to the entrance. A bit of a chat with the clubhouse’s affable barmaid and a pint of a Norfolk dark fruit cider called Black Adder.

It wasn’t long before more of our girls arrived. I got a bit of a chat at the bar with the lovely Jo. She said that compared to the M1, they’d found the M11 a breeze. Obviously they missed out on the occasional Norfolk problem of getting stuck behind a tractor on a country road.

A young chap was standing at the perimeter fence by the Atleti dugout and started to talk to me. He turned out to be the brother of one of our players, seeing us play for the first time. I got a word with a couple of our regulars as they spoke to our media man, setting up his tall camera stick.

Both teams were evenly matched. Jo had a great game throughout at centre-back and Alex in our goal made several excellent saves. Brooke rolled another goal home to give us the lead midway through the first half and Wroxham equalised with a thunderer from the edge of the box just before the break. At half time the hot food was served from the clubhouse bar, same queue as the drinks. My burger with onions was first class.

A brief hailstorm started towards the end of half-time and carried on for several minutes into the second half, resulting in the players being taken off for a few minutes. The storm soon passed and the game resumed. Wroxham thought they had a shout for a penalty, but the ref gave a corner- rightly in my view, and that of the two home fans sitting behind me. Atleti continued to make forays forward but were unable to convert; Wroxham had their share of attacks but the efforts of the defence led by Jo, and Alex, ensured the game ended as a draw.

Billy, one of the coaches, gave the team a talk at the end of the match, saying they’d done well to go unbeaten since Christmas after making a shaky start to the season. One of the girls wasn’t impressed with the officiating and said so to me and a couple of other fans. The team and staff all lined up for a group photo, then headed down the tunnel. Jo stopped by me and said “see you next season”; I asked if we could do a photo and she did a selfie with me.

I headed back into the bar, thinking the girls might stick around, and ordered another Black Adder. A Wroxham fan waiting at the bar said the officiating had been poor; I told him that if it was any consolation our girls had thought the same. As I sat drinking it became clear that the Atleti party had left straight away. When I’d drunk up I thanked the barmaid and said “see you next season”. She said “At least you stayed, not like your ladies”. Oh dear. Away teams are expected to stay, and partake in the food laid on by the home club, but I’m sure it was nothing more sinister than our lot wanting to get away because they had a long journey back to London.

Walked back to the station and found nearly an hour’s wait for the next train. Must have just missed one having that solo drink. Still made it back to the hotel for Emmerdale.

To London on Sunday for Atlético v St Albans City Women. Stopped at Stratford for lunch. Decided to check out the Westfield centre, which turned out to have a World Food Court. Had an excellent kebab from an outlet called Bababoom.

Dave, Gary, and Neil from Southend were in the bar. A Kopparberg and a chat with them, then went outside to check in with the girls. Back to the bar for a refill and to read the Non-League Paper.

Neil was on PA duty and kept us entertained all afternoon with his eccentric style of announcements. He set the tone before the match asking spectators not to swear as “we may not be in WSL1 or WSL2 but we still have the same regulations”. He announced the goal times down to not just the minute, but the second. Giving updates on the Women’s League Cup Final, he wasn’t quite impartial, greeting Chelsea’s second goal with a chant of Aggie Beever-Jones’ song. Neil made several references to Dave - “my good mate Dave Tweedy” during the game, and at the start of the second half he gave me a shout-out, announcing that I travel from near Portsmouth for games and calling me “number one superfan”. For the substitutions Dave and I helped him out with the names of players going on and off.

Sitting just in front of Dave and me were the parents of St Albans player Emily Reynolds. We all got on as well as opponents do, joined by that bond that is the wider women’s football family. At half time Emily came over and presented her mother with a St Albans City bobble hat - a gesture that Neil gleefully relayed to the crowd, describing it as “a lovely little gift for Mother’s Day”.

Atlético won 3-0. Brooke put us in front in the first half. On the hour mark Poppy made it two with a lovely long-distance volley and then in the dying minutes a cross from Nicole was headed home at close range by the lovely Jo.

Neil asked our little group to choose Lady of the Match from each side. Of course I chose Jo for Atleti - no-one disputed it - and we were unanimous in picking Emily for St Albans.

I congratulated the players as they came down the tunnel. Jo gave me a double high five. I really love being part of this little family.

Got back to Waterloo with an hour till the next Fareham train. Chicken Royale at Burger King and a leisurely coffee in Starbucks.

Went up to Northampton on Wednesday for the screening of The Corinthians : We Were The Champions. This film is about the Manchester Corinthians women’s football team, who formed in 1949 - right in the middle of the FA’s 50-year ban on women playing on affiliated grounds - and kept going through to the 1980s, and were phenomenally successful, winning an overwhelming majority of their games played, including triumphs in two international tournaments abroad.

I wanted to see this film, not just because it was about a successful women’s football team, but because, apart from Gail Newsham’s magisterial book chronicling the Dick, Kerr Ladies, it was the first time anyone had made a concerted effort to tell a story of women’s football in England during the FA ban years, and because I’d made a contribution to the crowdfunder that made the film possible.

I’d let my friend Kathy, who lives in Northampton, know that I was coming, and she’d said she might be there.

The cinema, the Northampton Filmhouse, was a fringe venue, showing this film as part of the Northampton Film Festival, so there was a compact intimate feel with friendly front of house and bar staff. Screen 2, where the film was showing, was in a building off to the side of the main house. I took a seat with plenty of time to spare, and periodically scanned the audience for Kathy. I finally spotted her a few minutes before the start, and went over to her. We hugged and kissed and she said we’d chat at the end.

The film was fascinating. Ten surviving players took turns being shown on screen recalling events from the team’s playing days, from their being formed by their tireless manager Percy Ashley, through playing their matches on Fog Lane Park in Didsbury and having to wash in the duck pond, to their exploits playing matches all over Continental Europe and in South America. Much of their achievements were depicted in cartoon strip form, inspired by the old sports comics like Tiger, but there were actually some pieces of black and white footage of some of their games. Strikingly, while the football establishment here in England were reported as having taken the view that the team (and all women’s football) should be dismissed, ridiculed or ignored, the players recalled that much of the general public’s reaction to them was positive - while abroad, they got to play in grounds including the homes of Juventus and Sporting Lisbon, played to packed stadiums, and were treated like celebrities by the local populace.

Helen, the director, did an interesting Q&A session at the end. She said how Channel 4 and Channel 5 had both turned down her film proposal, thinking people wouldn’t be interested in a women’s football film. At the end of the session I went over to Kathy and her friend, and we all talked as we meandered to the foyer. She said she’d be at the Lionesses match in Nottingham at the weekend and we agreed to meet there.

Out in the foyer Helen was standing at a table selling tote bags and badges bearing the film’s logo. She was delighted when I told her I’d contributed to the crowdfunder and that I’d travelled from near Portsmouth. She insisted on giving me a complimentary bag and badge. I wished her luck with getting the film screened nationwide, and she asked whether I knew any cinemas round my way that might be interested. I mentioned the one in Southampton that showed Copa 71 two years ago and she said she might try them. Fingers crossed.

Back home yesterday, then today I travelled up to Nottingham for tomorrow’s Lionesses game.

To London this afternoon to lay flowers for Sarah. Train journey OK. Got six lovely red roses from Isle of Flowers on Victoria Station.

As I neared the entry gate to the Underground one of the tube staff, spotting my roses, said “She’s a lucky lady.” If only you knew, mate… But, in a way, she was.

Every year I’ve always just laid my flowers outside, stood on the steps reflecting, and left, never sure if the theatre staff noticed. This time I went through the doors and asked the front of house girls if the auditorium was open, thinking it’d be nice to see Sarah’s memorial plaque. But the girls said the auditorium wasn’t open.

I went outside. After a couple of attempts to get the flowers to stand up were foiled by the wind, I laid them down just to the side of the doors, and stood on the steps for a couple of minutes reminiscing about my two encounters with Sarah.

I went round the corner to the door leading to the bar, and ordered a Coal Drop Stout. There was a framed poster from last year’s production of 4.48 Psychosis. I stood at the high table facing the poster, raised my glass “Here’s to you, Sarah”, and drank, occasionally softly saying a line from Crave. Two ladies were sitting at nearby tables, doing some work with papers or notebooks. I wasn’t sure if they noticed me or not, but they seemed unfazed.

Back to Victoria for something to eat. Train journey home, listening to songs that remind me of Sarah, and to an album by one of her favourite bands Cake.