Third Wheel Theme
May. 16th, 2022 09:33 pmWhat a fantastic showing from Sam Ryder at Eurovision! At first as the high points came in I was just ecstatic that we weren’t going to finish bottom this time, then when we stayed at the top of the leaderboard for all the rest of the jury vote I got high on the dream of actually winning the thing. Yes, it would have been wonderful to win, but if we’d been offered 2nd at the start of the evening we’d have snatched their hand off. Our best result since Imaani 24 years ago. You have to be dead chuffed indeed.
To London yesterday as Crystal had tickets in Club Wembley for the WFA Cup Final and had invited me along. The journey was extended by 45 minutes as there were no trains between Guildford and Woking and I had to take the Eastleigh-Basingstoke-Farnborough route. Arrived at Wembley Central in plenty of time, moseyed along Wembley high street in search of lunch and found a German Doner Kebab.
I was due to meet Crystal at the Boxpark. I roamed on following the signs until I reached it, at which point the rain started. There was no admission to the Boxpark without a match ticket, and Crystal had the tickets, so I dived into a nearby Costa and messaged Crystal to say where I was.
Crystal arrived as I was waiting for the coffee I’d ordered, accompanied by Matt, who’d been with our group at the French World Cup. She greeted me with a hug and a kiss, but there wasn’t a free table in sight so they said they’d wait outside for me. When my coffee turned up I went out front, where it was still raining and Matt and Crystal were deep in a conflab. They carried on as we walked up to the stadium; Matt did notice that they were sidelining me, and Crystal said to feel free to join in the conversation.
As we reached the security tables to enter Club Wembley I wondered if the stewards would object to my Aldi carrier bag - I’d seen the Bag Restrictions signs outside - but once one of them had seen inside he waved me on through. It was quite posh in Club Wembley, with displays of England shirts and some enticing looking food and drink outlets - which, alas, I had to resist, with a substantial lunch already down me and my hypertension review in a fortnight.
We had great seats in the upper tier right behind one of the goals. I persuaded Crystal to sit in the middle. Matt was fine with that saying “A rose between two thorns”. There was still about an hour to kick-off. I got to chat to the other two as the teams came out to warm up and the starting lineups were read out and displayed on the board. I joined in with Crystal in cheering the names of the City players. She was both amused and mortified that the name of Alanna Kennedy was accompanied by a photo of ex-City player Janine Beckie. Crystal, checking her Instagram, was delighted to see Karen Bardsley was at the game; I likewise to find that Laura Bassett was commentating for Radio 5 Live. Alas, although we cast our eyes around neither of us spotted our heroines. With kick-off imminent, the teams were read out again, and when Alanna Kennedy’s name appeared this time the picture of Beckie had been replaced by a City crest. Crystal bust a button.
The game was well exciting for the neutrals. Opposite us was an end full of City fans waving flags and banners; in the tier below us was a sea of Chelsea fans doing the same. With Crystal being a City fan I was cheering them. Matt and Crystal thought Sam Kerr’s opener for Chelsea was down to poor City defending; for me it was just a magnificent cross from Millie Bright that Kerr was on the line to knock in. Lauren Hemp’s close range equaliser just before half time sent me into raptures as much as the City fans; it was just jarring that Crystal and Matt were all over each other hugging in celebration, while I seemed to be only half there in their eyes.
Half time came, visit to the Gents and to the tea bar for a Sprite, made it back to our seats before the restart. City created plenty but it was Chelsea who went back into the lead just after the hour mark through Erin Cuthbert. We sat on edges of our seats groaning at every missed City opportunity, until, straight out of Roy of the Rovers, in injury time Hayley Raso raced onto a through ball and fired it into the net. I was up on my feet like Crystal beside me, as ecstatic as any City fan roaring in celebration. Again though, I found myself left out of Matt and Crystal’s hugs.
Extra time began, no sign of a possible goal for a while and I was thinking we were going to finish with the excitement of a penalty shoot-out, but there was no happy ending. Alanna Kennedy ran past a bouncing ball deep in her own half and let Sam Kerr loose, and that’s one thing you can’t do with her. She fired home a wicked deflection off the unfortunate Alex Greenwood. Chelsea parked the bus from then on in. For City, a Laura Coombs shot hit the bar. I’d really wanted her to score as she’s a quality player but finding herself on the bench nowadays. With one minute left City got a corner, all their outfield players packed the penalty area, and Crystal and I yelled at goalie Ellie Roebuck to go up there and join them but she remained in her own half. The corner was gathered by Ann-Katrin Berger and moments later the whistle went.
We hung around for the presentation, then as Chelsea were celebrating on the balcony with the Cup we made a move. As we walked back out through the foyer we heard Blue Is The Colour playing over the tannoy.
We headed back to the Boxpark. To get in we had to go through a security check including turning your pockets out. There was dance music playing at volume 11, hordes of jubilant Chelsea fans, groups of City fans determined to still enjoy their afternoon out. Again, lots of alluring food outlets that it took all my willpower to resist. The loud music killed any chance of me having a proper conversation with the other two, but they still whispered to each other every so often. The only bright spot came after a live band had replaced the disco, and a short way into their set the band played Summer of ‘69. I made the most of it, singing along, and one guy passing us said to me “Sing up mate”..
It wasn’t long before we decided to make a move, but outside there were still hordes queueing for the tube so we knew the trains would be jam packed. We decided we’d better linger on and let the crowds clear. I would have given anything for us to find a quiet bar or cafe where we could sit and chill. But Crystal had heard from a friend of hers who was in the Boxpark. So she wanted to go back into the Boxpark. I said “We’ve got to go through airport security again?” and Crystal just told me I could go home if I wanted. I wasn’t in the mood for playing sardines on the Tube so I went along with them.
So we went through airport security again and went and stood on the upper balcony with Crystal’s friend Dawn and two of Dawn’s friends. The music was still oppressively loud and the place was full of blind drunk swamp animals and the only way I could have enjoyed myself in those surroundings would have been if I too had been a blind drunk swamp animal, but I was unable to get blotto because of my review coming up. I slowly drank my orange juice, just hanging around next to the others. Matt left to go home after a while, I still had some orange juice left and stuck it out a bit longer, wanting to let the crowds disperse from the stations. Finally I said goodbye to Crystal and she said her farewell with genuine affection as we hugged and kissed, and I emerged into the blessed quiet of Wembley Park Boulevard.
There were just a few straggling fans here and there outside. I walked along, deflated from the disappointment of the Boxpark and from having been sidelined by the other two for most of the day, my spirits further sagging from one of the Walthamstow guys DMing me “Are you not supporting us anymore?”
I’d made the decision to revert to AFC Portchester from the new season, as heading to London and environs twice each weekend was draining my finances, so if I’m going to save enough to get to Toronto to meet![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jenni_blog at the 2026 Men’s World Cup I’m going to have to go local for my regular football fix. I’d updated my social media bios the weekend before to reflect my return to following Portchy, but I’d wanted to slip out of the back door quietly. Getting my conscience pricked with messages like that makes it even harder.
I reached Wembley Stadium train station where a Marylebone train was waiting on the platform. I ran for it and made it comfortably.
On the train home from Waterloo, a trio of obvious football fans sat opposite me, drinking beers and eating crisps. After a while the one right opposite me noticed that I was reading She Kicks and asked if I’d been to the Women’s Cup Final. I said yes, we got talking, it turned out they were Tottenham fans. One of them offered me one of their beer cans which I politely declined. They at first showed some interest in my groundhopping, but it soon became clear they weren’t impressed that I watch non-league and women’s football and hardly ever go to the big men’s professional clubs. On one of them asking why I don’t save money by driving to matches instead of taking the train, I explained that I like a couple of jars on a matchday. Another of the guys was a fellow ale aficionado and we found we had a shared appreciation of Harvey’s ale - as served at Brighton’s Amex stadium. That led to two of them ragging the other one for supposedly making a bad choice of beers for the journey. I explained about my declining their kind offer being down to my having a hypertension review imminent, but it was apparent that, combined with my being a non-league/women’s fan, just cemented their view that I was a right radish. It was just as well that we pulled into Woking then and they left the train.
Sat alone for the remaining one and three quarter weary hours. Got home just before 11, jaded. Not exactly designed to put me in a great frame of mind for the return to the office today.
To London yesterday as Crystal had tickets in Club Wembley for the WFA Cup Final and had invited me along. The journey was extended by 45 minutes as there were no trains between Guildford and Woking and I had to take the Eastleigh-Basingstoke-Farnborough route. Arrived at Wembley Central in plenty of time, moseyed along Wembley high street in search of lunch and found a German Doner Kebab.
I was due to meet Crystal at the Boxpark. I roamed on following the signs until I reached it, at which point the rain started. There was no admission to the Boxpark without a match ticket, and Crystal had the tickets, so I dived into a nearby Costa and messaged Crystal to say where I was.
Crystal arrived as I was waiting for the coffee I’d ordered, accompanied by Matt, who’d been with our group at the French World Cup. She greeted me with a hug and a kiss, but there wasn’t a free table in sight so they said they’d wait outside for me. When my coffee turned up I went out front, where it was still raining and Matt and Crystal were deep in a conflab. They carried on as we walked up to the stadium; Matt did notice that they were sidelining me, and Crystal said to feel free to join in the conversation.
As we reached the security tables to enter Club Wembley I wondered if the stewards would object to my Aldi carrier bag - I’d seen the Bag Restrictions signs outside - but once one of them had seen inside he waved me on through. It was quite posh in Club Wembley, with displays of England shirts and some enticing looking food and drink outlets - which, alas, I had to resist, with a substantial lunch already down me and my hypertension review in a fortnight.
We had great seats in the upper tier right behind one of the goals. I persuaded Crystal to sit in the middle. Matt was fine with that saying “A rose between two thorns”. There was still about an hour to kick-off. I got to chat to the other two as the teams came out to warm up and the starting lineups were read out and displayed on the board. I joined in with Crystal in cheering the names of the City players. She was both amused and mortified that the name of Alanna Kennedy was accompanied by a photo of ex-City player Janine Beckie. Crystal, checking her Instagram, was delighted to see Karen Bardsley was at the game; I likewise to find that Laura Bassett was commentating for Radio 5 Live. Alas, although we cast our eyes around neither of us spotted our heroines. With kick-off imminent, the teams were read out again, and when Alanna Kennedy’s name appeared this time the picture of Beckie had been replaced by a City crest. Crystal bust a button.
The game was well exciting for the neutrals. Opposite us was an end full of City fans waving flags and banners; in the tier below us was a sea of Chelsea fans doing the same. With Crystal being a City fan I was cheering them. Matt and Crystal thought Sam Kerr’s opener for Chelsea was down to poor City defending; for me it was just a magnificent cross from Millie Bright that Kerr was on the line to knock in. Lauren Hemp’s close range equaliser just before half time sent me into raptures as much as the City fans; it was just jarring that Crystal and Matt were all over each other hugging in celebration, while I seemed to be only half there in their eyes.
Half time came, visit to the Gents and to the tea bar for a Sprite, made it back to our seats before the restart. City created plenty but it was Chelsea who went back into the lead just after the hour mark through Erin Cuthbert. We sat on edges of our seats groaning at every missed City opportunity, until, straight out of Roy of the Rovers, in injury time Hayley Raso raced onto a through ball and fired it into the net. I was up on my feet like Crystal beside me, as ecstatic as any City fan roaring in celebration. Again though, I found myself left out of Matt and Crystal’s hugs.
Extra time began, no sign of a possible goal for a while and I was thinking we were going to finish with the excitement of a penalty shoot-out, but there was no happy ending. Alanna Kennedy ran past a bouncing ball deep in her own half and let Sam Kerr loose, and that’s one thing you can’t do with her. She fired home a wicked deflection off the unfortunate Alex Greenwood. Chelsea parked the bus from then on in. For City, a Laura Coombs shot hit the bar. I’d really wanted her to score as she’s a quality player but finding herself on the bench nowadays. With one minute left City got a corner, all their outfield players packed the penalty area, and Crystal and I yelled at goalie Ellie Roebuck to go up there and join them but she remained in her own half. The corner was gathered by Ann-Katrin Berger and moments later the whistle went.
We hung around for the presentation, then as Chelsea were celebrating on the balcony with the Cup we made a move. As we walked back out through the foyer we heard Blue Is The Colour playing over the tannoy.
We headed back to the Boxpark. To get in we had to go through a security check including turning your pockets out. There was dance music playing at volume 11, hordes of jubilant Chelsea fans, groups of City fans determined to still enjoy their afternoon out. Again, lots of alluring food outlets that it took all my willpower to resist. The loud music killed any chance of me having a proper conversation with the other two, but they still whispered to each other every so often. The only bright spot came after a live band had replaced the disco, and a short way into their set the band played Summer of ‘69. I made the most of it, singing along, and one guy passing us said to me “Sing up mate”..
It wasn’t long before we decided to make a move, but outside there were still hordes queueing for the tube so we knew the trains would be jam packed. We decided we’d better linger on and let the crowds clear. I would have given anything for us to find a quiet bar or cafe where we could sit and chill. But Crystal had heard from a friend of hers who was in the Boxpark. So she wanted to go back into the Boxpark. I said “We’ve got to go through airport security again?” and Crystal just told me I could go home if I wanted. I wasn’t in the mood for playing sardines on the Tube so I went along with them.
So we went through airport security again and went and stood on the upper balcony with Crystal’s friend Dawn and two of Dawn’s friends. The music was still oppressively loud and the place was full of blind drunk swamp animals and the only way I could have enjoyed myself in those surroundings would have been if I too had been a blind drunk swamp animal, but I was unable to get blotto because of my review coming up. I slowly drank my orange juice, just hanging around next to the others. Matt left to go home after a while, I still had some orange juice left and stuck it out a bit longer, wanting to let the crowds disperse from the stations. Finally I said goodbye to Crystal and she said her farewell with genuine affection as we hugged and kissed, and I emerged into the blessed quiet of Wembley Park Boulevard.
There were just a few straggling fans here and there outside. I walked along, deflated from the disappointment of the Boxpark and from having been sidelined by the other two for most of the day, my spirits further sagging from one of the Walthamstow guys DMing me “Are you not supporting us anymore?”
I’d made the decision to revert to AFC Portchester from the new season, as heading to London and environs twice each weekend was draining my finances, so if I’m going to save enough to get to Toronto to meet
jenni_blog at the 2026 Men’s World Cup I’m going to have to go local for my regular football fix. I’d updated my social media bios the weekend before to reflect my return to following Portchy, but I’d wanted to slip out of the back door quietly. Getting my conscience pricked with messages like that makes it even harder.I reached Wembley Stadium train station where a Marylebone train was waiting on the platform. I ran for it and made it comfortably.
On the train home from Waterloo, a trio of obvious football fans sat opposite me, drinking beers and eating crisps. After a while the one right opposite me noticed that I was reading She Kicks and asked if I’d been to the Women’s Cup Final. I said yes, we got talking, it turned out they were Tottenham fans. One of them offered me one of their beer cans which I politely declined. They at first showed some interest in my groundhopping, but it soon became clear they weren’t impressed that I watch non-league and women’s football and hardly ever go to the big men’s professional clubs. On one of them asking why I don’t save money by driving to matches instead of taking the train, I explained that I like a couple of jars on a matchday. Another of the guys was a fellow ale aficionado and we found we had a shared appreciation of Harvey’s ale - as served at Brighton’s Amex stadium. That led to two of them ragging the other one for supposedly making a bad choice of beers for the journey. I explained about my declining their kind offer being down to my having a hypertension review imminent, but it was apparent that, combined with my being a non-league/women’s fan, just cemented their view that I was a right radish. It was just as well that we pulled into Woking then and they left the train.
Sat alone for the remaining one and three quarter weary hours. Got home just before 11, jaded. Not exactly designed to put me in a great frame of mind for the return to the office today.
