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Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Oct. 9th, 2023 08:21 pmLondon Seaward away at Chesham yesterday. Should have been easy enough from Waterloo - Jubilee Line to Wembley Park then the Metropolitan all the way out to Chesham. Only found out at the entrance to Waterloo Underground that the Metropolitan Line was closed north of Wembley Park.
After a momentary panic, I considered whether to hop on a Tube to Euston, take the train to Hemel Hempstead and get the bus from there to Chesham. In the end, after a glance at the Transport for London website told me there were replacement buses for the Metropolitan stops, I decided to stick with those.
The buses were classic red London double-deckers. The ride from Wembley Park to Rickmansworth was hot and sticky. Getting off the bus at Rickmansworth I gulped down lungfuls of lovely outside air. The journey from there to Chesham wasn’t too bad, but by the time we reached Chesham it was 1 pm. From the tube station it was a 15 minute walk to the football ground, but, knowing the address of the ground was on Amy Lane, when I reached the roundabout I turned down Amy Lane and walked the length of it, without finding the ground. Another consultation with Google Maps on my phone led me back to the roundabout…if I’d looked just beyond the sign for Amy Lane, I’d have seen the sign for the football ground, which lay at the end of an adjacent footpath and a car park.
Then I trekked around the outside of the ground looking for a way in. The usual matchday turnstiles were closed. Finally I headed down the players’ and officials’ door to the dressing room corridor, and from there emerged into the stand through the players’ tunnel.
It was 1.25. Dave greeted me with “What time do you call this?” I wearily just said there’d been replacement buses on the tube. He and Gary talked about the abandoned game at Leyton Orient in midweek when a poor chap watching died, then I made my excuses, explaining I needed a pint, and made for the clubhouse.
There was a cheerful barmaid there. Chesham United have a beer named for them, Generals Beer, so I went for a pint of that - not bad - and a bag of crisps.
Chesham had the better of much of the first half and scored halfway through. Kelsey Smith equalised for Seaward on 36 minutes with a stunning 30-yarder. Alas, in time added on Chesham scored twice to go in with a 3-1 lead.
At half time I looked around for a tea hut. The only one I saw was on the other side of the ground and was closed with shutters down. I asked the barmaid, who said there was no hot food today - “there’s only me”, with her crisps, chocolate and nuts. We chatted for a few minutes. I observed that at least she was on duty, whereas some clubs don’t bother offering any amenities at all for women’s matches. “Sexist,” a male home fan at the bar said, gratifyingly; the barmaid said it was more a case of clubs deciding whether it was worth it. I went for a Picnic bar.
Soon after the restart, comedy defending allowed Chesham to score a fourth. With the game gone, nothing to do but sit and wait the time out, though naturally I continued to shout encouragement to the Seaward girls. The final whistle finally came, I said “see you” to the lads and left the ground through the bar, with a fond goodbye and “see you next season” to the barmaid, to lope back to the tube station for another bus marathon.
Actually, in the cooler late afternoon and with less people on board the buses back weren’t so bad. Hank Marvin when I reached Waterloo, I hit Mi Casa for a chicken burrito.
The train back to Portsmouth was full. I found a rare double seat but someone came to sit next to me at Clapham Junction. Home in time for Van Der Valk.
After a momentary panic, I considered whether to hop on a Tube to Euston, take the train to Hemel Hempstead and get the bus from there to Chesham. In the end, after a glance at the Transport for London website told me there were replacement buses for the Metropolitan stops, I decided to stick with those.
The buses were classic red London double-deckers. The ride from Wembley Park to Rickmansworth was hot and sticky. Getting off the bus at Rickmansworth I gulped down lungfuls of lovely outside air. The journey from there to Chesham wasn’t too bad, but by the time we reached Chesham it was 1 pm. From the tube station it was a 15 minute walk to the football ground, but, knowing the address of the ground was on Amy Lane, when I reached the roundabout I turned down Amy Lane and walked the length of it, without finding the ground. Another consultation with Google Maps on my phone led me back to the roundabout…if I’d looked just beyond the sign for Amy Lane, I’d have seen the sign for the football ground, which lay at the end of an adjacent footpath and a car park.
Then I trekked around the outside of the ground looking for a way in. The usual matchday turnstiles were closed. Finally I headed down the players’ and officials’ door to the dressing room corridor, and from there emerged into the stand through the players’ tunnel.
It was 1.25. Dave greeted me with “What time do you call this?” I wearily just said there’d been replacement buses on the tube. He and Gary talked about the abandoned game at Leyton Orient in midweek when a poor chap watching died, then I made my excuses, explaining I needed a pint, and made for the clubhouse.
There was a cheerful barmaid there. Chesham United have a beer named for them, Generals Beer, so I went for a pint of that - not bad - and a bag of crisps.
Chesham had the better of much of the first half and scored halfway through. Kelsey Smith equalised for Seaward on 36 minutes with a stunning 30-yarder. Alas, in time added on Chesham scored twice to go in with a 3-1 lead.
At half time I looked around for a tea hut. The only one I saw was on the other side of the ground and was closed with shutters down. I asked the barmaid, who said there was no hot food today - “there’s only me”, with her crisps, chocolate and nuts. We chatted for a few minutes. I observed that at least she was on duty, whereas some clubs don’t bother offering any amenities at all for women’s matches. “Sexist,” a male home fan at the bar said, gratifyingly; the barmaid said it was more a case of clubs deciding whether it was worth it. I went for a Picnic bar.
Soon after the restart, comedy defending allowed Chesham to score a fourth. With the game gone, nothing to do but sit and wait the time out, though naturally I continued to shout encouragement to the Seaward girls. The final whistle finally came, I said “see you” to the lads and left the ground through the bar, with a fond goodbye and “see you next season” to the barmaid, to lope back to the tube station for another bus marathon.
Actually, in the cooler late afternoon and with less people on board the buses back weren’t so bad. Hank Marvin when I reached Waterloo, I hit Mi Casa for a chicken burrito.
The train back to Portsmouth was full. I found a rare double seat but someone came to sit next to me at Clapham Junction. Home in time for Van Der Valk.
