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It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over
Dec. 4th, 2023 06:30 pmHaving raised £176 for Movember, Friday morning I went to the new Turkish barber up the road to have the mo removed.
Then onto a train to London, Wembley on Friday for England Women v Holland. Blue Check was absolutely heaving when I arrived there at 5.30. Got to have a bit of a chat with Rachel and Lisa, and one with Sue, and say hello to Deb who was rushing around talking to people. She did present me with a Lionesses pen. Also saw Lindsay, who hadn’t seen my customised 25th anniversary shirt yet. She was well impressed with it, asked to take photos, and posted on Facebook congratulating me on 25 years following the Lionesses. Lisa remarked with surprise on my having got rid of the mo already! Ordered some chicken tenders and chips from the bar, quite tasty.
At 6.40 said my goodbyes and moseyed over to the stadium. The lady at the ticket office eventually found mine, thank goodness. My seat was in a section just to the left of one of the goals, 17 rows up from the pitch. My multiple T-shirts under my jumper, thick gloves and long johns just about kept the cold at bay. A personal highlight came twenty minutes before kick-off when my old pal Jodie Taylor, along with two other ex-Lionesses, was interviewed on the pitch and presented with a framed England shirt commemorating her career. I got a really good picture of her on the Titantron.
The Dutch got an early goal through Beerensteyn. When the same player added their second on 35 minutes, as a little section of Dutch fans a couple of blocks away sang and waved banners, my heart sank. England looked down and out for all the rest of the first half.
I was resigned to losing the match and coming third in the group; on the concourse at half time I scanned the Tier B groups on my phone, to check out who our potential opponents in the play-offs were. I decided that out of them all I’d prefer a trip to Slovakia.
Whatever Sarina said to the players at half time, it worked. A curler from Lauren James found Georgia Stanway unmarked and she headed neatly home. Every England fan in the stadium seemed to be roaring with vigour, as if we all sensed this was just the start of a fightback. Sure enough, Lauren Hemp powered a low shot under the keeper soon after to put England on level terms. Game on!
The equaliser seemed to knock the stuffing out of the Dutch. England kept steaming forward but couldn’t find another goal. Beth Mead came on to a tremendous ovation from the crowd. I think every single England fan wanted her to score. Alas, fairytales don’t always come true.
Holland found one late attack and won a corner. Was fortune going to desert us after all? No, Mary Earps made a magnificent save to push a Dutch shot round the post, and from the next corner the superb sub Esme Morgan comfortably cleared.
Into time added on, there was one more twist yet to the story to come… Lauren James lofted a diagonal ball forward. Ella Toone got on the end of it, struck the ball and nutmegged the Dutch goalie! From being on the ropes, we’d only gone and won the match. The stadium erupted!
After the final whistle, I was torn between staying to clap the players as they walked round, or getting out of the cold and heading for the warmth of the pub. As I stood applauding while the players were still down the other end, Jo from London Seaward, whom I hadn’t known was there, stopped by my seat to say hello and remark on what a great game it was. “That had everything,” I concurred. She said “See you Sunday?”, I replied yes.
As she and her companion walked past, I guessed that as they were leaving the stadium now I might as well do the same. I made my way to the exit, down the steps and along Engineers Way back to Blue Check.
Crystal (with a new friend), Jules, Alice, Jill and Steph were all there. We found a free table and sat chatting until just after midnight when the pub chucked out. That surprised us as we’d been allowed to stay till 1am the night of the Brazil match. Jules was craving McDonald’s so we all moseyed along to the nearby branch.
When we’d got our food, and Steph had bought some beer from a filling station to take back to the hotel, it was time to part ways as they were all staying in the *other* Wembley Premier Inn; there was just me staying in the Stadium one. I exchanged goodbyes with the girls - and also ‘Merry Christmas’es, since I’m unable to join them in Glasgow tomorrow. I momentarily watched them head into the distance then sloped back to my hotel to fall asleep to the sound of Radio 5 Live.
The train strike and engineering works made getting from London to Cambridge on Saturday tricky. Arrived at King’s Cross early in the afternoon to see the next three trains to Cambridge cancelled. I asked the customer information man for advice and he said to change at Peterborough.
At first I got off the train at Stevenage, since National Rail had suggested changing there, but on the platform describer the train from there to Cambridge was showing as cancelled as well. I jumped back onto the train. At Peterborough, sure enough, I was able to catch a train to Cambridge on the Leicester line, unaffected by the goings-on in London.
Then from Cambridge station it was a walk under a darkening sky to the Parkside bus stop to catch the bus to Haverhill, another hour’s ride. The bus was ten minutes late arriving; by the time we were on the move it was pitch dark. That didn’t make looking out for my stop in Haverhill easy, but happily a lady sitting at the front said she was getting off at the same stop.
On the walk to my hotel I passed a pub where a DJ out front was playing Fairytale of New York, a sweet stall and a mini fun fair. My hotel was attached to a restaurant. By the time I’d unpacked, it was six and a half hours since I’d eaten so I made straight for the restaurant. All the staff were very friendly and helpful. The menu was international tapas. My hummus and focaccia, Southern Fried chicken, and loaded hash browns were excellent. The music playing in the restaurant alternated classic Christmas songs with general pop hits. Of course I couldn’t resist a mulled wine.
I’d booked into the hotel for Saturday and Sunday nights, having booked today as a flex day, since getting home after the game would have been impossible. But at 10.30 yesterday morning the London Seaward Twitter account tagged me, replying to their own tweet that the game had been called off.
I put my bags together and left the room. I met a lady from the hotel staff in the corridor, and explained to her that I was checking out, as the game I’d come for had been called off so I might as well go back home, go in to work today and save my flex day. She was very nice about it and I thanked her, telling her how helpful all the staff had been and that the food had been excellent. She said she hoped I’d return one day, and I lugged my bags down the stairs, round the mazy wooden passageway, out onto the street and round to the bus stop.
Of course, being Sunday and with the strike and engineering works still on, the journey home wasn’t going to be plain sailing either. From Cambridge, Google recommended a bus to Stansted Airport, and from there another to Stratford in London. At the Parkside bus stop, the signs revealed that the buses to Stansted were National Express. It was 12.30 pm; National Express’s web site showed that all the buses from Cambridge to Stansted were sold out.
So walked the little way back to Drummer Street bus station to get a bus to Cambridge North train station. Google recommended a train to Ely, one from Ely to Leicester, then one from Leicester to London. On arrival at Cambridge North, after a needed visit to the Gents I hit Costa for a Christmas coffee.
One of the station staff was talking to a lady who had a ticket to London, telling her to take a rail replacement bus to Audley End. I mentioned to him that Google had given me the Ely-Leicester-London route; he said “That’s interesting” but said my ticket wouldn’t be valid on that route, adding that he’d advise avoiding the Leicester-London line that day anyway as there were sure to be problems. He said I’d have to take the replacement bus to Audley End. I asked how to get from Audley End to the City; he said there were trains.
As rail replacement bus rides go, this one was pretty painless; there were no intermediate stops. I’d had no idea where Audley End was. I can now tell you it’s near Saffron Walden. I gathered that from the rack of ‘what’s on in Saffron Walden’ magazines in the little ticket hall, before seeing the bigger giveaway of the platform signs reading ‘Audley End for Saffron Walden’.
At Tottenham Hale, I assumed the station exit gates leading to the Tube station were the Tube station entrance gates, and presented my bank card on the reader instead of feeding my Cambridge to London train ticket into it. My clanger only became apparent when I noticed a second lot of gates at the mouth of the Tube station. I told a couple of station staff of my error, and they said ‘You have to contact TfL online’. I only hope I don’t get charged something stupid like £50, although one of the barrier staff thought I’d only be charged £6.40.
Arrived at Waterloo at ten to five. Six hours after bidding a fond farewell to the lady at the Haverhill hotel. Made for The Bagel Factory for much needed sustenance, then Starbucks to check out their Christmas offerings.
The train to Portsmouth was heaving with West Ham fans, and more piled on at Clapham Junction; they were standing all along the centre aisle of the carriage. Thankfully most of them got off at Woking and there was room to breathe for the rest of the way. I never imagined Woking would be a hotbed of Hammers support, though I guess it’s close enough to London for those locals who don’t fancy following Woking FC to be drawn to London teams.
Back home just before 8pm. Relax and catch up with my recorded episodes of Crown Court and Worzel Gummidge (1979) both courtesy of Britain’s finest TV channel Talking Pictures.
And back to work today. Just as well, as today Seaward’s Combined Counties League Women’s Cup tie with Watford Ladies FC was set for this Thursday. Flex day rearranged, another hotel booked.
Then onto a train to London, Wembley on Friday for England Women v Holland. Blue Check was absolutely heaving when I arrived there at 5.30. Got to have a bit of a chat with Rachel and Lisa, and one with Sue, and say hello to Deb who was rushing around talking to people. She did present me with a Lionesses pen. Also saw Lindsay, who hadn’t seen my customised 25th anniversary shirt yet. She was well impressed with it, asked to take photos, and posted on Facebook congratulating me on 25 years following the Lionesses. Lisa remarked with surprise on my having got rid of the mo already! Ordered some chicken tenders and chips from the bar, quite tasty.
At 6.40 said my goodbyes and moseyed over to the stadium. The lady at the ticket office eventually found mine, thank goodness. My seat was in a section just to the left of one of the goals, 17 rows up from the pitch. My multiple T-shirts under my jumper, thick gloves and long johns just about kept the cold at bay. A personal highlight came twenty minutes before kick-off when my old pal Jodie Taylor, along with two other ex-Lionesses, was interviewed on the pitch and presented with a framed England shirt commemorating her career. I got a really good picture of her on the Titantron.
The Dutch got an early goal through Beerensteyn. When the same player added their second on 35 minutes, as a little section of Dutch fans a couple of blocks away sang and waved banners, my heart sank. England looked down and out for all the rest of the first half.
I was resigned to losing the match and coming third in the group; on the concourse at half time I scanned the Tier B groups on my phone, to check out who our potential opponents in the play-offs were. I decided that out of them all I’d prefer a trip to Slovakia.
Whatever Sarina said to the players at half time, it worked. A curler from Lauren James found Georgia Stanway unmarked and she headed neatly home. Every England fan in the stadium seemed to be roaring with vigour, as if we all sensed this was just the start of a fightback. Sure enough, Lauren Hemp powered a low shot under the keeper soon after to put England on level terms. Game on!
The equaliser seemed to knock the stuffing out of the Dutch. England kept steaming forward but couldn’t find another goal. Beth Mead came on to a tremendous ovation from the crowd. I think every single England fan wanted her to score. Alas, fairytales don’t always come true.
Holland found one late attack and won a corner. Was fortune going to desert us after all? No, Mary Earps made a magnificent save to push a Dutch shot round the post, and from the next corner the superb sub Esme Morgan comfortably cleared.
Into time added on, there was one more twist yet to the story to come… Lauren James lofted a diagonal ball forward. Ella Toone got on the end of it, struck the ball and nutmegged the Dutch goalie! From being on the ropes, we’d only gone and won the match. The stadium erupted!
After the final whistle, I was torn between staying to clap the players as they walked round, or getting out of the cold and heading for the warmth of the pub. As I stood applauding while the players were still down the other end, Jo from London Seaward, whom I hadn’t known was there, stopped by my seat to say hello and remark on what a great game it was. “That had everything,” I concurred. She said “See you Sunday?”, I replied yes.
As she and her companion walked past, I guessed that as they were leaving the stadium now I might as well do the same. I made my way to the exit, down the steps and along Engineers Way back to Blue Check.
Crystal (with a new friend), Jules, Alice, Jill and Steph were all there. We found a free table and sat chatting until just after midnight when the pub chucked out. That surprised us as we’d been allowed to stay till 1am the night of the Brazil match. Jules was craving McDonald’s so we all moseyed along to the nearby branch.
When we’d got our food, and Steph had bought some beer from a filling station to take back to the hotel, it was time to part ways as they were all staying in the *other* Wembley Premier Inn; there was just me staying in the Stadium one. I exchanged goodbyes with the girls - and also ‘Merry Christmas’es, since I’m unable to join them in Glasgow tomorrow. I momentarily watched them head into the distance then sloped back to my hotel to fall asleep to the sound of Radio 5 Live.
The train strike and engineering works made getting from London to Cambridge on Saturday tricky. Arrived at King’s Cross early in the afternoon to see the next three trains to Cambridge cancelled. I asked the customer information man for advice and he said to change at Peterborough.
At first I got off the train at Stevenage, since National Rail had suggested changing there, but on the platform describer the train from there to Cambridge was showing as cancelled as well. I jumped back onto the train. At Peterborough, sure enough, I was able to catch a train to Cambridge on the Leicester line, unaffected by the goings-on in London.
Then from Cambridge station it was a walk under a darkening sky to the Parkside bus stop to catch the bus to Haverhill, another hour’s ride. The bus was ten minutes late arriving; by the time we were on the move it was pitch dark. That didn’t make looking out for my stop in Haverhill easy, but happily a lady sitting at the front said she was getting off at the same stop.
On the walk to my hotel I passed a pub where a DJ out front was playing Fairytale of New York, a sweet stall and a mini fun fair. My hotel was attached to a restaurant. By the time I’d unpacked, it was six and a half hours since I’d eaten so I made straight for the restaurant. All the staff were very friendly and helpful. The menu was international tapas. My hummus and focaccia, Southern Fried chicken, and loaded hash browns were excellent. The music playing in the restaurant alternated classic Christmas songs with general pop hits. Of course I couldn’t resist a mulled wine.
I’d booked into the hotel for Saturday and Sunday nights, having booked today as a flex day, since getting home after the game would have been impossible. But at 10.30 yesterday morning the London Seaward Twitter account tagged me, replying to their own tweet that the game had been called off.
I put my bags together and left the room. I met a lady from the hotel staff in the corridor, and explained to her that I was checking out, as the game I’d come for had been called off so I might as well go back home, go in to work today and save my flex day. She was very nice about it and I thanked her, telling her how helpful all the staff had been and that the food had been excellent. She said she hoped I’d return one day, and I lugged my bags down the stairs, round the mazy wooden passageway, out onto the street and round to the bus stop.
Of course, being Sunday and with the strike and engineering works still on, the journey home wasn’t going to be plain sailing either. From Cambridge, Google recommended a bus to Stansted Airport, and from there another to Stratford in London. At the Parkside bus stop, the signs revealed that the buses to Stansted were National Express. It was 12.30 pm; National Express’s web site showed that all the buses from Cambridge to Stansted were sold out.
So walked the little way back to Drummer Street bus station to get a bus to Cambridge North train station. Google recommended a train to Ely, one from Ely to Leicester, then one from Leicester to London. On arrival at Cambridge North, after a needed visit to the Gents I hit Costa for a Christmas coffee.
One of the station staff was talking to a lady who had a ticket to London, telling her to take a rail replacement bus to Audley End. I mentioned to him that Google had given me the Ely-Leicester-London route; he said “That’s interesting” but said my ticket wouldn’t be valid on that route, adding that he’d advise avoiding the Leicester-London line that day anyway as there were sure to be problems. He said I’d have to take the replacement bus to Audley End. I asked how to get from Audley End to the City; he said there were trains.
As rail replacement bus rides go, this one was pretty painless; there were no intermediate stops. I’d had no idea where Audley End was. I can now tell you it’s near Saffron Walden. I gathered that from the rack of ‘what’s on in Saffron Walden’ magazines in the little ticket hall, before seeing the bigger giveaway of the platform signs reading ‘Audley End for Saffron Walden’.
At Tottenham Hale, I assumed the station exit gates leading to the Tube station were the Tube station entrance gates, and presented my bank card on the reader instead of feeding my Cambridge to London train ticket into it. My clanger only became apparent when I noticed a second lot of gates at the mouth of the Tube station. I told a couple of station staff of my error, and they said ‘You have to contact TfL online’. I only hope I don’t get charged something stupid like £50, although one of the barrier staff thought I’d only be charged £6.40.
Arrived at Waterloo at ten to five. Six hours after bidding a fond farewell to the lady at the Haverhill hotel. Made for The Bagel Factory for much needed sustenance, then Starbucks to check out their Christmas offerings.
The train to Portsmouth was heaving with West Ham fans, and more piled on at Clapham Junction; they were standing all along the centre aisle of the carriage. Thankfully most of them got off at Woking and there was room to breathe for the rest of the way. I never imagined Woking would be a hotbed of Hammers support, though I guess it’s close enough to London for those locals who don’t fancy following Woking FC to be drawn to London teams.
Back home just before 8pm. Relax and catch up with my recorded episodes of Crown Court and Worzel Gummidge (1979) both courtesy of Britain’s finest TV channel Talking Pictures.
And back to work today. Just as well, as today Seaward’s Combined Counties League Women’s Cup tie with Watford Ladies FC was set for this Thursday. Flex day rearranged, another hotel booked.
