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Sister Jane
May. 28th, 2018 09:13 pmTo Gosport for Keith's 75th/Vanessa's 50th joint birthday party on Saturday. It was a sedate affair, but I was sat next to Vanessa's work colleagues who were a friendly enough bunch. Vanessa was delighted with my getting her the DVD of 50 First Dates, she likes a good rom-com. She asked me to co-ordinate the skittles, which all went smoothly apart from having to call out to a couple of people who knocked all nine pins down with two balls to get them to stick around while the pins were resurrected for their third ball. Tried a Sharp's Sea Fury, not a bad pint.
Up early yesterday morning for the marathon journey to Sheffield, to meet up with Jane from Lewes at the FA Women's Premier League Championship Match. At King's Cross, given a mouthful of abuse by a beggar for proffering a handful of coins; it might have been a heap of copper but there was a 20p piece buried in the pile, and there's no need for that behaviour, ever. With how emotionally fragile I've been feeling this week, I fell apart. The guys at Customer Services stalled me until the Virgin Trains manager arrived; he accompanied me to my platform, saying along the walk that the beggars are not meant to be on the station at all and advising me to not offer anything in future. He said my experience was not satisfactory for a Virgin customer and that as a goodwill gesture he'd upgrade me to first class, and when we arrived at the train he showed me to a seat in the first class carriage.
At Doncaster my connecting train to Sheffield appeared to be indefinitely delayed. Despite my ticket being for that train only, the guard on another train agreed to let me on. I arrived at Sheffield at 1.15 so jumped in a cab and messaged Jane to say I was on my way. She was in the VIP lounge having lunch.
With a few minutes left to kick-off I spotted Jane emerging into the VIP section seats. I walked over to say hello, we hugged and kissed over the little wall around the VIP section and I took a seat right up by the wall, enabling Jane and me to exchange the odd remark. She handed me a FA WPL branded pack of three chocolates and a selection of Lewes Women programmes.
At half time she came out of the section to sit by me. I did a photo of us together. We'd agreed during the week that we'd talk about my troubles; I told her how I'd been shaking with anger all week about Notts County FC, in promoting their new women's side, repeating the outright lie that when the old Lady Pies closed the players in club accommodation were given 3 months' free rent. Jane and I both know the truth: they were given less than a week to move out and many had to move in with parents while others had to ask the PFA for money for deposits for bed-sits. The club repeating that bare-faced lie, and the fact of the chairman getting away with his treatment of the girls and with lying about it, is more than I can cope with. Jane entirely sympathised, sharing my outrage at the chairman, the way the girls were treated and the apparent certainty that The Bad Guy Will Win. I asked if she had any idea what I could do for the best about the emotions I'm feeling - anger that literally makes my hand shake; sorrow that sometimes makes me feel that carrying on, with everyday routine and with trying to be a nice guy, isn't worthwhile. She asked if I'd considered counselling; I said I'd used up the free sessions provided by work over the closure of the club and Laura leaving my life, and that I can't lay my hands on £280, the cost of the course of sessions provided by MIND. Jane suggested I contact Ruth, a lady we both know of online who's a clinical depression survivor and a mental health campaigner in women's football.
Then we settled down to watch the second half. We exchanged the odd remark about the game again. Jane promised me a Harveys on my next visit to the Pan, as there was no alcohol on sale today. Charlton won 2-1; Jane was happy, as she has friends there. We watched the trophy presentation and said our goodbyes with a hug and a kiss, and Jane said "Contact Ruth."
I walked back to the station, stopping off at a pub for a much needed pint of Blue Moon - dry matchdays will never feel right.
Changing at Birmingham New Street, the station roof was getting lashed by rain and thunder. One by-product was my train to Southampton being delayed by 24 minutes. Miraculously, we made up most of the time en route and reached Southampton in time for my train to Fareham.
And then today was the languorous journey back to Bedfordshire, but lightened by the news that Lewes Women have been elected to the second division for next season. Delighted for everyone there, especially Jane. Even though she's no longer involved and now will just be going as a fan, she laid so much of the groundwork to make this possible.
Up early yesterday morning for the marathon journey to Sheffield, to meet up with Jane from Lewes at the FA Women's Premier League Championship Match. At King's Cross, given a mouthful of abuse by a beggar for proffering a handful of coins; it might have been a heap of copper but there was a 20p piece buried in the pile, and there's no need for that behaviour, ever. With how emotionally fragile I've been feeling this week, I fell apart. The guys at Customer Services stalled me until the Virgin Trains manager arrived; he accompanied me to my platform, saying along the walk that the beggars are not meant to be on the station at all and advising me to not offer anything in future. He said my experience was not satisfactory for a Virgin customer and that as a goodwill gesture he'd upgrade me to first class, and when we arrived at the train he showed me to a seat in the first class carriage.
At Doncaster my connecting train to Sheffield appeared to be indefinitely delayed. Despite my ticket being for that train only, the guard on another train agreed to let me on. I arrived at Sheffield at 1.15 so jumped in a cab and messaged Jane to say I was on my way. She was in the VIP lounge having lunch.
With a few minutes left to kick-off I spotted Jane emerging into the VIP section seats. I walked over to say hello, we hugged and kissed over the little wall around the VIP section and I took a seat right up by the wall, enabling Jane and me to exchange the odd remark. She handed me a FA WPL branded pack of three chocolates and a selection of Lewes Women programmes.
At half time she came out of the section to sit by me. I did a photo of us together. We'd agreed during the week that we'd talk about my troubles; I told her how I'd been shaking with anger all week about Notts County FC, in promoting their new women's side, repeating the outright lie that when the old Lady Pies closed the players in club accommodation were given 3 months' free rent. Jane and I both know the truth: they were given less than a week to move out and many had to move in with parents while others had to ask the PFA for money for deposits for bed-sits. The club repeating that bare-faced lie, and the fact of the chairman getting away with his treatment of the girls and with lying about it, is more than I can cope with. Jane entirely sympathised, sharing my outrage at the chairman, the way the girls were treated and the apparent certainty that The Bad Guy Will Win. I asked if she had any idea what I could do for the best about the emotions I'm feeling - anger that literally makes my hand shake; sorrow that sometimes makes me feel that carrying on, with everyday routine and with trying to be a nice guy, isn't worthwhile. She asked if I'd considered counselling; I said I'd used up the free sessions provided by work over the closure of the club and Laura leaving my life, and that I can't lay my hands on £280, the cost of the course of sessions provided by MIND. Jane suggested I contact Ruth, a lady we both know of online who's a clinical depression survivor and a mental health campaigner in women's football.
Then we settled down to watch the second half. We exchanged the odd remark about the game again. Jane promised me a Harveys on my next visit to the Pan, as there was no alcohol on sale today. Charlton won 2-1; Jane was happy, as she has friends there. We watched the trophy presentation and said our goodbyes with a hug and a kiss, and Jane said "Contact Ruth."
I walked back to the station, stopping off at a pub for a much needed pint of Blue Moon - dry matchdays will never feel right.
Changing at Birmingham New Street, the station roof was getting lashed by rain and thunder. One by-product was my train to Southampton being delayed by 24 minutes. Miraculously, we made up most of the time en route and reached Southampton in time for my train to Fareham.
And then today was the languorous journey back to Bedfordshire, but lightened by the news that Lewes Women have been elected to the second division for next season. Delighted for everyone there, especially Jane. Even though she's no longer involved and now will just be going as a fan, she laid so much of the groundwork to make this possible.
