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Monday the 30th after work I took the train up to Long Buckby for what was already looking likely to be Buckingham Town's last ever match. Arrived early, there was no-one at the football ground yet, so I wandered into town in search of a bite to eat and found a chippy in a little diagonal road off the main street. The guy who served me, on seeing my 100 Football Grounds club hat, began chatting about footy and revealed that he used to play for Long Buckby.
By the time I'd eaten on a bench by the roadside - and had to retrieve my used chip paper from where the wind had blown it - the clubhouse was open and I sat down with an excellent pint of Ratae'd from the Dow Bridge brewery. Vince and Darren joined me for a while; although they maintained the line that no decision had yet been made about closing the club, it was looking pretty clear that that would be the case, especially when Vince talked at length about the toll that keeping the club going was taking on his finances.
They sat by me in the stand with the game about to start. With the team's lined up for kick off I said "If 135 years of history are ending tonight, here's hoping it's a good one." Vince mused "135 years of history and there's an hour and a half left." It wasn't looking like we'd end on an upbeat note as Long Buckby scored after a quarter of an hour. At half time I visited the tea hut, staffed by a friendly lady who had a Premier League game blaring on Radio 5 Live. With it being legally our home game, switched to Long Buckby's ground at short notice when a late attempt to fix our floodlights failed, no programmes had been produced. There were several old Long Buckby programmes on sale in the tea hut so I bought one just to have a souvenir of the club.
Dan Silver came on as sub during the second half, equalised, and then lofted home a beautiful winner with the last kick of the game. You couldn't have made it up. Now that was a fitting ending. Back in the clubhouse for a pint of another local brew waiting for the train, I didn't see Vince and Darren for long but did get to say a quick goodbye and thanks - nothing big, just a casual goodbye between acquaintances, certainly nothing to reference the fact we might well never meet again.
The night of Wednesday the 2nd after work I headed down to Gosport to help with me ma's local election next day.
Thursday morning it was confirmed online that Buckingham Town had closed. As you can imagine it was a busy day, with number-takers and canvassers always in and out of the house; I spent much of the day compiling voter lists and co-ordinating the volunteers by phone. On one polling station in the afternoon, my parents noticed my mother's opponent getting a lot of friendly greetings while few people talked to them, and my mother became visibly dispirited for the evening, to the point where she seemed to be wanting to throw in the towel. My cousin Gayle and other volunteers kept things ticking.
After what seemed an interminable wait at the count (my mother's ward was one of the last to be counted), during which I became friendly with Caroline, one of the volunteers who was standing herself in an unwinnable ward, the ballot boxes were opened around 1.15 am. (At five past midnight, my mother had noticed the big clock in the hall and wished me happy birthday.) As soon as the tellers began counting the ballot papers I could tell me ma had won comfortably; she turned out to have a majority of 303. Her opponent had gone home before the official declaration, so my mother was left to make a quick speech thanking us all. Said goodbyes to Caroline - who'd pushed up the vote in her ward considerably - and headed back to the parents' and to bed, about 2.30.
Friday the 4th I got Mat Guy's book Another Bloody Saturday from my parents for my birthday. Brilliant read, could scarcely put it down all day. Popped in to Gosport town during late morning to see Heidi, an old friend from FE college who was diagnosed with Asperger's not long after I was 18 months ago. Heidi was delighted to see me and came straight over and hugged me and we had a long chat about old college memories. The lady who runs the autism charity where she volunteers joined in the conversation when she could, telling me about what they do there. She said "You're welcome to come along any time."
I couldn't give her false hope. "Thank you so much, but I live in Leighton Buzzard."
Heidi's volunteer work sometimes takes her to the college now and she told me of a meeting she'd been in when a teacher announced "Students are not allowed to decorate the college, since the late 1980s when lobster pots were hung in the common room and a tree was cemented into the floor." Heidi said that as this announcement had been made, she'd gone sliding down her chair in embarrassment. One of the students later said to her "It was you, Miss, wasn't it?"
Ann and my aunts all came round in the early afternoon with my cards and stopped for a coffee and a biscuit. In the evening the parents and I went out for a Chinese. Went home feeling absolutely full.
Early start Saturday the 5th to head back home, dump my things and then get down to Wembley for the WFA Cup Final. Met the crowd at the Wetherspoons along Wembley high road. Rachel, Jules, Kath, Mark and Alice had made me a birthday card of a selection of photos of us on our England travels, and Alice had written a little poem in it. Rachel bought me lunch as a birthday treat. Martin had been to see Chess the night before, and gave me a programme with Alexandra Burke's autograph with Happy Birthday to me in. On my mentioning that Buckingham Town had folded, I could have done without Rachel, Martin and Mark calling me the Black Widow and telling me to never start supporting their teams.
As we reached Wembley stadium I felt a tad emotional : the last time I'd been there was for the Lady Pies. We had good seats towards one end of the pitch (we had to ask a family who's sat in them to move). With Rachel and Kath being Arsenal fans and the rest of us neutral, most of our party were casually pro-Arsenal; I was only really rooting for Louise Quinn, Arsenal's Lady Pie, and hoping Hedvig Lindahl would get sent off so Carly Telford would get on. Rachel and Kath still haven't forgiven Ramona Bachmann for diving and getting Rachel Brown sent off during an England v Switzerland match some years ago; they hugely enjoyed it when Emma Mitchell gave Bachmann the Irish Whip! Bachmann, though, had the last laugh, scoring twice in a 3-1 win for Chelsea and lifting the Player of the Match award. To my excitement, one of my heroines Heather O'Reilly came on as sub on 70 minutes but she wasn't able to deliver fireworks this time. I was never really bothered who was going to win; it did warm my heart to see Carly Telford get her turn at touching the trophy and collecting a winner's medal, even if she didn't play.
We went on to a nearby bar. The music was a bit loud for my liking but we did manage a bit of a conversation. Rachel took a while to join us, having wandered off on her own; Arsenal's defeat had sent her into a withdrawn mood and she didn't say much when she did arrive. I ordered a 12oz Porterhouse steak; the size of my meal led to gasps, laughter and comments like "Thanks for getting us a sharer!" It was very tasty, though I wish I'd taken up the offer of alternative sauces; the peppercorn one was a bit pungent. Said my goodbyes when I'd finished my dinner and moseyed on to the station.
Sunday I set off for Sheffield FC's ground in Dronfield to give Millwall Lionesses some encouragement. At the ticket machine, the fare - £189, over double what National Rail's website had quoted - made my eyes water, but I was committed to getting behind the Millwall girls in their time of need and I'd had enough birthday money to cover it. So I took the replacement bus from Leighton Buzzard to Milton Keynes - where my connecting train to Birmingham was showing as 'Delayed' before, finally, being displayed as 24 minutes late. Ensuring that I wouldn't make it to Dronfield in time for the match.
Crushed, I went over to the ticket window and asked for a refund on my tickets, and was told that I'd have to go to Leighton Buzzard station where I'd bought them. Happily there were now trains there again, so bought a single ticket and hopped on a train back to Leighton, only to be told that, because I'd travelled ONE stop on the rotten REPLACEMENT BUS (not even a train) I couldn't get a refund on my tickets and would have to apply for Delay Repay.
Which will give me only half of my fare, as a 1 hour delay one way on a return ticket. £95 of my birthday money gone up in smoke.
At least Dick Turpin wore a mask.
On the ride back to Leighton I'd decided that if I got a full refund I was going to go to London and see the lovely Alexandra in Chess myself. That was that dream shattered by the diddling railways.
I took another train back to MK and a bus over to Buckingham, where Buckingham Athletic Ladies - a Step 7 side - were playing at home. Was in plenty of time to get a Sunday roast and a pint in the Woolpack pub first. Grub excellent, beer not bad but can't remember what it was. At the Athletic ground I introduced myself to the barmaid and said "I was a Town fan until Thursday morning." She said she'd heard the news and it was really sad "but you're welcome here any time."
Buckingham Athletic Ladies and Haddenham Ladies played an exciting match that ended 4-2 for the home team. Within minutes I decided Jordan Heron, Buckingham's right wide midfielder, was my favourite player. My appreciation of her is in pure footballing terms; she is WAY too young for me to crush on. She kept running, kept trying, and finally, towards the end of the game, got her reward as she scored.
From there it was on to Stony Stratford for the arranged karaoke night with the team from work, but even that turned into a damp squib. Only five of us turned up, the mood was subdued because of that and because Lucy was on meds and Selina and Elsie were both driving so none of them were drinking. Only Claire (she really does have a fantastic voice) and I bothered to sing. At least Claire acknowledged my birthday, bringing cupcakes.
Monday I went over to the MK Half Marathon route, as Kath from the England Ladies fan crowd and Lisa, an old friend from FE college, were running. With help from the tracker app, I managed to see them both - both thanked me for coming, Kath touched hands with me. I felt for the runners in the boiling heat.
And so on Tuesday it was back to work, weighed down with gloom at £95 going down the chute and the washout that was the karaoke. To exacerbate the black mood, there was all the catching up to do after two days' holiday. By the time I made it home it was about an hour to go till Classroom Classics Eurovision special, but that was probably just as well. I rang Mr Papa John and stuck a port-infused Leighton Buzzard beer in the fridge. And lovely Kathy Leander was placed #9 on the listeners' all time Eurovision Top 20.
More heavy workloads Thursday and yesterday. Thank goodness for Eurovision final tonight. Good luck Jessica Mauboy!
By the time I'd eaten on a bench by the roadside - and had to retrieve my used chip paper from where the wind had blown it - the clubhouse was open and I sat down with an excellent pint of Ratae'd from the Dow Bridge brewery. Vince and Darren joined me for a while; although they maintained the line that no decision had yet been made about closing the club, it was looking pretty clear that that would be the case, especially when Vince talked at length about the toll that keeping the club going was taking on his finances.
They sat by me in the stand with the game about to start. With the team's lined up for kick off I said "If 135 years of history are ending tonight, here's hoping it's a good one." Vince mused "135 years of history and there's an hour and a half left." It wasn't looking like we'd end on an upbeat note as Long Buckby scored after a quarter of an hour. At half time I visited the tea hut, staffed by a friendly lady who had a Premier League game blaring on Radio 5 Live. With it being legally our home game, switched to Long Buckby's ground at short notice when a late attempt to fix our floodlights failed, no programmes had been produced. There were several old Long Buckby programmes on sale in the tea hut so I bought one just to have a souvenir of the club.
Dan Silver came on as sub during the second half, equalised, and then lofted home a beautiful winner with the last kick of the game. You couldn't have made it up. Now that was a fitting ending. Back in the clubhouse for a pint of another local brew waiting for the train, I didn't see Vince and Darren for long but did get to say a quick goodbye and thanks - nothing big, just a casual goodbye between acquaintances, certainly nothing to reference the fact we might well never meet again.
The night of Wednesday the 2nd after work I headed down to Gosport to help with me ma's local election next day.
Thursday morning it was confirmed online that Buckingham Town had closed. As you can imagine it was a busy day, with number-takers and canvassers always in and out of the house; I spent much of the day compiling voter lists and co-ordinating the volunteers by phone. On one polling station in the afternoon, my parents noticed my mother's opponent getting a lot of friendly greetings while few people talked to them, and my mother became visibly dispirited for the evening, to the point where she seemed to be wanting to throw in the towel. My cousin Gayle and other volunteers kept things ticking.
After what seemed an interminable wait at the count (my mother's ward was one of the last to be counted), during which I became friendly with Caroline, one of the volunteers who was standing herself in an unwinnable ward, the ballot boxes were opened around 1.15 am. (At five past midnight, my mother had noticed the big clock in the hall and wished me happy birthday.) As soon as the tellers began counting the ballot papers I could tell me ma had won comfortably; she turned out to have a majority of 303. Her opponent had gone home before the official declaration, so my mother was left to make a quick speech thanking us all. Said goodbyes to Caroline - who'd pushed up the vote in her ward considerably - and headed back to the parents' and to bed, about 2.30.
Friday the 4th I got Mat Guy's book Another Bloody Saturday from my parents for my birthday. Brilliant read, could scarcely put it down all day. Popped in to Gosport town during late morning to see Heidi, an old friend from FE college who was diagnosed with Asperger's not long after I was 18 months ago. Heidi was delighted to see me and came straight over and hugged me and we had a long chat about old college memories. The lady who runs the autism charity where she volunteers joined in the conversation when she could, telling me about what they do there. She said "You're welcome to come along any time."
I couldn't give her false hope. "Thank you so much, but I live in Leighton Buzzard."
Heidi's volunteer work sometimes takes her to the college now and she told me of a meeting she'd been in when a teacher announced "Students are not allowed to decorate the college, since the late 1980s when lobster pots were hung in the common room and a tree was cemented into the floor." Heidi said that as this announcement had been made, she'd gone sliding down her chair in embarrassment. One of the students later said to her "It was you, Miss, wasn't it?"
Ann and my aunts all came round in the early afternoon with my cards and stopped for a coffee and a biscuit. In the evening the parents and I went out for a Chinese. Went home feeling absolutely full.
Early start Saturday the 5th to head back home, dump my things and then get down to Wembley for the WFA Cup Final. Met the crowd at the Wetherspoons along Wembley high road. Rachel, Jules, Kath, Mark and Alice had made me a birthday card of a selection of photos of us on our England travels, and Alice had written a little poem in it. Rachel bought me lunch as a birthday treat. Martin had been to see Chess the night before, and gave me a programme with Alexandra Burke's autograph with Happy Birthday to me in. On my mentioning that Buckingham Town had folded, I could have done without Rachel, Martin and Mark calling me the Black Widow and telling me to never start supporting their teams.
As we reached Wembley stadium I felt a tad emotional : the last time I'd been there was for the Lady Pies. We had good seats towards one end of the pitch (we had to ask a family who's sat in them to move). With Rachel and Kath being Arsenal fans and the rest of us neutral, most of our party were casually pro-Arsenal; I was only really rooting for Louise Quinn, Arsenal's Lady Pie, and hoping Hedvig Lindahl would get sent off so Carly Telford would get on. Rachel and Kath still haven't forgiven Ramona Bachmann for diving and getting Rachel Brown sent off during an England v Switzerland match some years ago; they hugely enjoyed it when Emma Mitchell gave Bachmann the Irish Whip! Bachmann, though, had the last laugh, scoring twice in a 3-1 win for Chelsea and lifting the Player of the Match award. To my excitement, one of my heroines Heather O'Reilly came on as sub on 70 minutes but she wasn't able to deliver fireworks this time. I was never really bothered who was going to win; it did warm my heart to see Carly Telford get her turn at touching the trophy and collecting a winner's medal, even if she didn't play.
We went on to a nearby bar. The music was a bit loud for my liking but we did manage a bit of a conversation. Rachel took a while to join us, having wandered off on her own; Arsenal's defeat had sent her into a withdrawn mood and she didn't say much when she did arrive. I ordered a 12oz Porterhouse steak; the size of my meal led to gasps, laughter and comments like "Thanks for getting us a sharer!" It was very tasty, though I wish I'd taken up the offer of alternative sauces; the peppercorn one was a bit pungent. Said my goodbyes when I'd finished my dinner and moseyed on to the station.
Sunday I set off for Sheffield FC's ground in Dronfield to give Millwall Lionesses some encouragement. At the ticket machine, the fare - £189, over double what National Rail's website had quoted - made my eyes water, but I was committed to getting behind the Millwall girls in their time of need and I'd had enough birthday money to cover it. So I took the replacement bus from Leighton Buzzard to Milton Keynes - where my connecting train to Birmingham was showing as 'Delayed' before, finally, being displayed as 24 minutes late. Ensuring that I wouldn't make it to Dronfield in time for the match.
Crushed, I went over to the ticket window and asked for a refund on my tickets, and was told that I'd have to go to Leighton Buzzard station where I'd bought them. Happily there were now trains there again, so bought a single ticket and hopped on a train back to Leighton, only to be told that, because I'd travelled ONE stop on the rotten REPLACEMENT BUS (not even a train) I couldn't get a refund on my tickets and would have to apply for Delay Repay.
Which will give me only half of my fare, as a 1 hour delay one way on a return ticket. £95 of my birthday money gone up in smoke.
At least Dick Turpin wore a mask.
On the ride back to Leighton I'd decided that if I got a full refund I was going to go to London and see the lovely Alexandra in Chess myself. That was that dream shattered by the diddling railways.
I took another train back to MK and a bus over to Buckingham, where Buckingham Athletic Ladies - a Step 7 side - were playing at home. Was in plenty of time to get a Sunday roast and a pint in the Woolpack pub first. Grub excellent, beer not bad but can't remember what it was. At the Athletic ground I introduced myself to the barmaid and said "I was a Town fan until Thursday morning." She said she'd heard the news and it was really sad "but you're welcome here any time."
Buckingham Athletic Ladies and Haddenham Ladies played an exciting match that ended 4-2 for the home team. Within minutes I decided Jordan Heron, Buckingham's right wide midfielder, was my favourite player. My appreciation of her is in pure footballing terms; she is WAY too young for me to crush on. She kept running, kept trying, and finally, towards the end of the game, got her reward as she scored.
From there it was on to Stony Stratford for the arranged karaoke night with the team from work, but even that turned into a damp squib. Only five of us turned up, the mood was subdued because of that and because Lucy was on meds and Selina and Elsie were both driving so none of them were drinking. Only Claire (she really does have a fantastic voice) and I bothered to sing. At least Claire acknowledged my birthday, bringing cupcakes.
Monday I went over to the MK Half Marathon route, as Kath from the England Ladies fan crowd and Lisa, an old friend from FE college, were running. With help from the tracker app, I managed to see them both - both thanked me for coming, Kath touched hands with me. I felt for the runners in the boiling heat.
And so on Tuesday it was back to work, weighed down with gloom at £95 going down the chute and the washout that was the karaoke. To exacerbate the black mood, there was all the catching up to do after two days' holiday. By the time I made it home it was about an hour to go till Classroom Classics Eurovision special, but that was probably just as well. I rang Mr Papa John and stuck a port-infused Leighton Buzzard beer in the fridge. And lovely Kathy Leander was placed #9 on the listeners' all time Eurovision Top 20.
More heavy workloads Thursday and yesterday. Thank goodness for Eurovision final tonight. Good luck Jessica Mauboy!
