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Two Tribes
Nov. 13th, 2024 10:21 pmGosport Borough v Dorchester Town this evening. Things looked promising as Boro raced into a two goal lead, Alfie Stanley striking home a cross in the second minute and Dutchy Hollands netting a beautiful volley on 16 minutes.
The Boro ultras were gathered in front of the clubhouse again. As Boro were defending that goal, Dorchester’s vocal travelling fans stood at the same end, just the other side of the goal. Both groups had a drummer - Dorchester’s drum was brightly coloured - so for the first half the two sets of fans engaged in a chanting and drumming contest. Boro were winning out both on the pitch and behind the goal until, bang on half time, Dorchester caught the Gosport defence napping and drilled the ball through the middle and into the net. Their knot of fans burst into a joyous Utrecht March.
Popped down to Jock’s Snack Bar at half time. There were Milky Bars and Smarties still on sale, but to my enquiry re the price, the young man on duty replied £1.50. I was down to my last 90p. There were packets of cheese and onion crisps marked ‘Past BB Date’ going for 30p so I settled for one of those. “Only by a few days,” the guy said. Another of those little things that make British non-league special.
Meanwhile Dorchester’s hardcore wandered round to behind the far goal. Dorchester had the upper hand most of the second half and with five minutes to go their left winger raced to the touchline and zinged a cross behind our defence for their striker to tap in an equaliser. Their fans erupted with joy and several of them jumped over the advertising hoarding and onto the grass.
Ho hum.
The Boro ultras were gathered in front of the clubhouse again. As Boro were defending that goal, Dorchester’s vocal travelling fans stood at the same end, just the other side of the goal. Both groups had a drummer - Dorchester’s drum was brightly coloured - so for the first half the two sets of fans engaged in a chanting and drumming contest. Boro were winning out both on the pitch and behind the goal until, bang on half time, Dorchester caught the Gosport defence napping and drilled the ball through the middle and into the net. Their knot of fans burst into a joyous Utrecht March.
Popped down to Jock’s Snack Bar at half time. There were Milky Bars and Smarties still on sale, but to my enquiry re the price, the young man on duty replied £1.50. I was down to my last 90p. There were packets of cheese and onion crisps marked ‘Past BB Date’ going for 30p so I settled for one of those. “Only by a few days,” the guy said. Another of those little things that make British non-league special.
Meanwhile Dorchester’s hardcore wandered round to behind the far goal. Dorchester had the upper hand most of the second half and with five minutes to go their left winger raced to the touchline and zinged a cross behind our defence for their striker to tap in an equaliser. Their fans erupted with joy and several of them jumped over the advertising hoarding and onto the grass.
Ho hum.
Whistling In The Dark
Nov. 8th, 2024 09:42 pmWent down to Privett Park for Gosport Borough v AFC Totton. Before the game the HMS Sultan Volunteer Band were in the stand playing a selection of war time tunes. In the clubhouse, at the Supporters’ Club table a chap asked if he knew me from Twitter. I gave my username, he confirmed that he did and introduced himself as Rich.
A quarter of an hour before kick-off about a dozen veterans, flag bearers from the Army, Navy and Air Force, and the Rose and Thistle Pipe Band came out onto the pitch, the band playing Scotland The Brave. When everyone was in line the two teams came out and lined up behind the flag bearers. Our local MP read the Ode of Remembrance, we observed a minute’s silence, the band played the Last Post and the MP recited “When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow we gave our today”. The veterans and flag bearers were led off to hospitality, while the band withdrew to outside the perimeter fence to allow the players to get ready - but they played on right up to kick-off.
As expected, there was a bumper crowd this evening, with the stand mostly heaving - the only empty spaces were ones with diabolical views - and people standing three deep around the perimeter all round the half of the pitch nearest the clubhouse and entrances. There were clearly some Pompey fans who’d come over for an extra fix among us, since every so often someone shouted “Scummer!” at a Totton player, coach or fan (Totton being near Southampton). A Totton player going down in need of medical treatment was treated to chants of “Nee-nah, nee-nah” like an ambulance siren.
On the pitch Totton dominated, scoring two early goals while Gosport never found a way past the visitors’ defence. During first half injury time the floodlights went out. So did all the lights in the ground - the stand and clubhouse were plunged into darkness. The only light anywhere came from a visiting burger van with its own generator. I had to visit the Gents - and joined a group of guys peeing in the dark.
Everyone stood around waiting for the power to come back on, or for news of any kind. Much needed humour came from the Boro ultras on the hardstanding in front of the clubhouse, singing “We’ll play in the dark, we’re Gosport Borough, we’ll play in the dark” and, directed at the Totton fans, “You’ve got six fingers, we’ve only got five”.
The plan had been for the Rose & Thistle band to return to the pitch at half time. Before long, despite the darkness the band did appear on the pitch. As they started up, one wag shouted “Like the band played as the Titanic went down”. The band played a few airs, then during one tune two blasts of the referee’s whistle were heard. Match abandoned.
I thanked a lady from the Rose & Thistle as they went past, then set off on the weary walk home. Going down the road I passed through a group of younger fans still drinking their pints in plastic glasses; they made way for me happily enough.
The great shame is all the extra people who probably attended Boro for the first time this evening; after this abandonment many of them are sadly unlikely to return. Back over to us diehards to keep the flag flying.
A quarter of an hour before kick-off about a dozen veterans, flag bearers from the Army, Navy and Air Force, and the Rose and Thistle Pipe Band came out onto the pitch, the band playing Scotland The Brave. When everyone was in line the two teams came out and lined up behind the flag bearers. Our local MP read the Ode of Remembrance, we observed a minute’s silence, the band played the Last Post and the MP recited “When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow we gave our today”. The veterans and flag bearers were led off to hospitality, while the band withdrew to outside the perimeter fence to allow the players to get ready - but they played on right up to kick-off.
As expected, there was a bumper crowd this evening, with the stand mostly heaving - the only empty spaces were ones with diabolical views - and people standing three deep around the perimeter all round the half of the pitch nearest the clubhouse and entrances. There were clearly some Pompey fans who’d come over for an extra fix among us, since every so often someone shouted “Scummer!” at a Totton player, coach or fan (Totton being near Southampton). A Totton player going down in need of medical treatment was treated to chants of “Nee-nah, nee-nah” like an ambulance siren.
On the pitch Totton dominated, scoring two early goals while Gosport never found a way past the visitors’ defence. During first half injury time the floodlights went out. So did all the lights in the ground - the stand and clubhouse were plunged into darkness. The only light anywhere came from a visiting burger van with its own generator. I had to visit the Gents - and joined a group of guys peeing in the dark.
Everyone stood around waiting for the power to come back on, or for news of any kind. Much needed humour came from the Boro ultras on the hardstanding in front of the clubhouse, singing “We’ll play in the dark, we’re Gosport Borough, we’ll play in the dark” and, directed at the Totton fans, “You’ve got six fingers, we’ve only got five”.
The plan had been for the Rose & Thistle band to return to the pitch at half time. Before long, despite the darkness the band did appear on the pitch. As they started up, one wag shouted “Like the band played as the Titanic went down”. The band played a few airs, then during one tune two blasts of the referee’s whistle were heard. Match abandoned.
I thanked a lady from the Rose & Thistle as they went past, then set off on the weary walk home. Going down the road I passed through a group of younger fans still drinking their pints in plastic glasses; they made way for me happily enough.
The great shame is all the extra people who probably attended Boro for the first time this evening; after this abandonment many of them are sadly unlikely to return. Back over to us diehards to keep the flag flying.
Different Strokes
Nov. 2nd, 2024 10:59 pmWent to see They Might Be Giants at Southampton Guildhall last night with Jade. The Johns had announced that they’d be performing the whole of the Flood and Book albums. I was very much looking forward to this, as Flood was the soundtrack to my fresher year at QM. My late legendary pal Alistair, who lived on my floor in the Halls of Residence, had the album and played it day after day. I came to know those songs very well and love them - I’d bought the album too before the year was out.
The guys and their backup band appeared on stage to a mighty cheer, and played a song I wasn’t familiar with. Bear in mind that my knowledge of TMBG’s output is limited to Flood and the 1992 single The Guitar, so any songs I didn’t know were probably from Book. After their opening song they announced “We’re now going to perform Flood - completely out of order!” Sure enough they launched into a superb rendition of Particle Man.
They went on performing Flood songs interspersed with presumably Book songs, and the odd dash of witty onstage repartee. Early on they got an ovation with the comment “We don’t want to make this show political - but we hate that guy.” Still in the first half they said “Other bands perform their albums all in order. We want to do Flood as a living breathing document - like the Constitution of the United States of America.”
Women And Men was a standout, and took me right back to the night towards the end of our fresher year when Alistair held a party in his room with about a dozen of us squeezed in there. Next came a fantastic version of Your Racist Friend.
The guys announced “Talking of terrible presidents, here’s a song about our 11th president.” I hadn’t heard the song about James K. Polk before but absolutely loved it. During the interval I Googled and found the song was actually called James K. Polk.
Being They Might Be Giants, the guys had to do something unusual. They announced that they were going to perform Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love “sonically in reverse - like what you hear when you play a tape backwards.” They explained that they’d then play a video recording of the song backwards at the start of the second half. Naturally their performance sounded odd, but it wasn’t a complete cacophony.
After the break they did play the video of their “sonically in reverse” performance backwards. To do them credit, the backward recording was a pretty good approximation to the original song.
Midway through the second half came three of my favourite tracks all in a row - We Want A Rock, Whistling In The Dark and Lucky Ball And Chain - all performed superbly, although I was sorry they ended Whistling In The Dark at the end of the main body of the song, omitting the coda, so there was no “Whistling … whistling … dark, dark, dark”. At the end of the main second half set the Theme From Flood leading into Birdhouse In Your Soul - naturally the hall exploded when that started.
There were two songs from Flood we hadn’t heard, both favourites of mine, Dead and Istanbul Not Constantinople. Those two numbers comprised the encore and didn’t disappoint.
With my tight budget this month I had to resist the temptation of the merch stall and we made our way out of the venue. It had been a magnificent gig. Jade loved it too.
The guys and their backup band appeared on stage to a mighty cheer, and played a song I wasn’t familiar with. Bear in mind that my knowledge of TMBG’s output is limited to Flood and the 1992 single The Guitar, so any songs I didn’t know were probably from Book. After their opening song they announced “We’re now going to perform Flood - completely out of order!” Sure enough they launched into a superb rendition of Particle Man.
They went on performing Flood songs interspersed with presumably Book songs, and the odd dash of witty onstage repartee. Early on they got an ovation with the comment “We don’t want to make this show political - but we hate that guy.” Still in the first half they said “Other bands perform their albums all in order. We want to do Flood as a living breathing document - like the Constitution of the United States of America.”
Women And Men was a standout, and took me right back to the night towards the end of our fresher year when Alistair held a party in his room with about a dozen of us squeezed in there. Next came a fantastic version of Your Racist Friend.
The guys announced “Talking of terrible presidents, here’s a song about our 11th president.” I hadn’t heard the song about James K. Polk before but absolutely loved it. During the interval I Googled and found the song was actually called James K. Polk.
Being They Might Be Giants, the guys had to do something unusual. They announced that they were going to perform Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love “sonically in reverse - like what you hear when you play a tape backwards.” They explained that they’d then play a video recording of the song backwards at the start of the second half. Naturally their performance sounded odd, but it wasn’t a complete cacophony.
After the break they did play the video of their “sonically in reverse” performance backwards. To do them credit, the backward recording was a pretty good approximation to the original song.
Midway through the second half came three of my favourite tracks all in a row - We Want A Rock, Whistling In The Dark and Lucky Ball And Chain - all performed superbly, although I was sorry they ended Whistling In The Dark at the end of the main body of the song, omitting the coda, so there was no “Whistling … whistling … dark, dark, dark”. At the end of the main second half set the Theme From Flood leading into Birdhouse In Your Soul - naturally the hall exploded when that started.
There were two songs from Flood we hadn’t heard, both favourites of mine, Dead and Istanbul Not Constantinople. Those two numbers comprised the encore and didn’t disappoint.
With my tight budget this month I had to resist the temptation of the merch stall and we made our way out of the venue. It had been a magnificent gig. Jade loved it too.
Bad Penny Blues
Oct. 31st, 2024 10:50 pmWent to the HMS Sultan bonfire and firework display. There was an impressive plethora of street food stalls this year. I got a tasty halloumi wrap from ‘The Cheeky Greek’.
Decided to queue for a donut for afters. They were £2 for one, so I reached for the four 50ps in my pocket. I held them in my hand working up the queue, but when I reached the counter the four coins had become three. Dumbfounded, I scanned the ground but to no avail. The donut van did take card, and the donut was first class, but the loss aggravated me deeply. The lost 50p was a Paddington at the Palace one, and I love passing on commemorative coins to keep them circulating.
Standing to one side eating my donut, and after, I cast my eyes across all the ground going back from the van - what ground wasn’t covered by queuing punters’ feet - drawing curious glances from several of said punters. Nothing doing. Perhaps somebody had snaffled the coin soon after it hit the ground. Otherwise I guess one of the litter pickers will find it when the site is being cleared after the event. I muttered “That can be his Christmas bonus.”
I went to join the crowd lining the roped-off part of the field waiting for the bonfire in a grey mood. Commemorative coins do not come along very often and passing them on is one of the few little pleasures I have amid drab mundane everyday life. I’d lucked out getting four in the last bag I drew out of the bank; having been careless enough to lose one, the spirits are not likely to be kind enough to bestow any on me again. I fully expect my future bags to consist entirely of regular issues :(
A local radio DJ acted as compère, welcoming us all, asking for people from different districts of Gosport, getting us to applaud the Royal Navy for putting the event on, and getting us to countdown to the lighting of the bonfire. The bonfire, based on wooden pallets, with two unusual-looking guys on top, went up well and kept a good blaze going all evening. There were massive cheers as each of the guys in turn fell off the top and onto the next tier of blazing pallets.
The firework display was a succession of brightly coloured soaring rockets exploding into scattering sparkles, with the odd group of star shells. A selection of music appropriate for Halloween played, including Ghostbusters and Alice Cooper’s Poison, interspersed with announcements in a wizardly voice. When the wizard announced that the show was nearly over and that “you should all know this song, so sing along”, I expected Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett and the Cryptkickers’ Monster Mash but it was AC/DC’s Highway To Hell.
I made my way over to where the announcer had said the site’s only exit would be. It rapidly became clear that we were all being held. As we inched nearer to the exit, the lady next to me and I noticed that the lone exit was a tiny gate through which people were leaving literally one at a time. With hundreds of us waiting to go, it was the mother of all bottlenecks. It brought back the worst side of going to football in the 90s.
The lady next to me and I exchanged comments on the ridiculousness of having just one soppy little gate for the whole crowd. That arrangement had never been in place before as far as either of us could remember. Of course, the ground we were on, right up to the gate, was a quagmire.
Decided to queue for a donut for afters. They were £2 for one, so I reached for the four 50ps in my pocket. I held them in my hand working up the queue, but when I reached the counter the four coins had become three. Dumbfounded, I scanned the ground but to no avail. The donut van did take card, and the donut was first class, but the loss aggravated me deeply. The lost 50p was a Paddington at the Palace one, and I love passing on commemorative coins to keep them circulating.
Standing to one side eating my donut, and after, I cast my eyes across all the ground going back from the van - what ground wasn’t covered by queuing punters’ feet - drawing curious glances from several of said punters. Nothing doing. Perhaps somebody had snaffled the coin soon after it hit the ground. Otherwise I guess one of the litter pickers will find it when the site is being cleared after the event. I muttered “That can be his Christmas bonus.”
I went to join the crowd lining the roped-off part of the field waiting for the bonfire in a grey mood. Commemorative coins do not come along very often and passing them on is one of the few little pleasures I have amid drab mundane everyday life. I’d lucked out getting four in the last bag I drew out of the bank; having been careless enough to lose one, the spirits are not likely to be kind enough to bestow any on me again. I fully expect my future bags to consist entirely of regular issues :(
A local radio DJ acted as compère, welcoming us all, asking for people from different districts of Gosport, getting us to applaud the Royal Navy for putting the event on, and getting us to countdown to the lighting of the bonfire. The bonfire, based on wooden pallets, with two unusual-looking guys on top, went up well and kept a good blaze going all evening. There were massive cheers as each of the guys in turn fell off the top and onto the next tier of blazing pallets.
The firework display was a succession of brightly coloured soaring rockets exploding into scattering sparkles, with the odd group of star shells. A selection of music appropriate for Halloween played, including Ghostbusters and Alice Cooper’s Poison, interspersed with announcements in a wizardly voice. When the wizard announced that the show was nearly over and that “you should all know this song, so sing along”, I expected Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett and the Cryptkickers’ Monster Mash but it was AC/DC’s Highway To Hell.
I made my way over to where the announcer had said the site’s only exit would be. It rapidly became clear that we were all being held. As we inched nearer to the exit, the lady next to me and I noticed that the lone exit was a tiny gate through which people were leaving literally one at a time. With hundreds of us waiting to go, it was the mother of all bottlenecks. It brought back the worst side of going to football in the 90s.
The lady next to me and I exchanged comments on the ridiculousness of having just one soppy little gate for the whole crowd. That arrangement had never been in place before as far as either of us could remember. Of course, the ground we were on, right up to the gate, was a quagmire.
Deutscher Girls
Oct. 26th, 2024 08:03 pm( England-Germany )
Having checked out of the Premier Inn, I was walking towards Olympic Way when Angela came jogging along and said hello. She asked what I’d thought of the game and asked if I was going to Wembley Park tube. I replied yes and she said it was closed, adding that it was terrible that there were no signs up at this end to warn people, and said I’d have to go to Wembley Central.
I called in at Wembley Stadium station, but there wasn’t another train for almost an hour so I lugged my bag all the way over to Wembley Central and took the tube to Waterloo. Three quarters of an hour till the next Fareham train (the direct Portsmouth line wasn’t running due to engineering works). Cue visit to Starbucks then to the Bagel Factory for lunch.
Managed to make it to Privett Park for Gosport Borough’s FA Trophy first round tie with Taunton Town. Gosport were 1-0 down at half time but made three substitutions at the break and were transformed. Gosport ran out winning 5-1, twice catching the defence napping and capping it off with a penalty.
Up the Borough.
Home for dinner then Z Cars on Talking Pictures.
Having checked out of the Premier Inn, I was walking towards Olympic Way when Angela came jogging along and said hello. She asked what I’d thought of the game and asked if I was going to Wembley Park tube. I replied yes and she said it was closed, adding that it was terrible that there were no signs up at this end to warn people, and said I’d have to go to Wembley Central.
I called in at Wembley Stadium station, but there wasn’t another train for almost an hour so I lugged my bag all the way over to Wembley Central and took the tube to Waterloo. Three quarters of an hour till the next Fareham train (the direct Portsmouth line wasn’t running due to engineering works). Cue visit to Starbucks then to the Bagel Factory for lunch.
Managed to make it to Privett Park for Gosport Borough’s FA Trophy first round tie with Taunton Town. Gosport were 1-0 down at half time but made three substitutions at the break and were transformed. Gosport ran out winning 5-1, twice catching the defence napping and capping it off with a penalty.
Up the Borough.
Home for dinner then Z Cars on Talking Pictures.
Born Of Frustration
Oct. 23rd, 2024 10:19 pmWent to Gosport Borough v Marlow. The visitors were the bottom team in the league and without a win this season. Until tonight. Marlow scored early on. It was an exciting, fast, end to end game, a Gosport defender had to change his shirt because of getting blood on it, Borough weren’t short of chances - we thought we’d equalised soon after Marlow’s goal but it was disallowed for a push on the goalie and our other shots either went wide or were saved.
Ho hum.
Ho hum.
Kinky Boots
Oct. 9th, 2024 06:25 pmSaw Natasha the chiropodist yesterday. She immediately found the cause of my toe trouble : a corn. She removed it, and said my ongoing pain would be muscle strain from having varied my step due to the initial ache from the corn.
Celebrated with a Kopparberg.
Celebrated with a Kopparberg.
Science Fiction/Double Feature
Oct. 4th, 2024 09:04 pmWent to the 5pm show of The Rocky Horror Show at the new Fareham Live venue. 75% of the audience, like me, were in civvies; there were just a few superfans in this time. Jason Donovan was hilarious as Frank N Furter. Nathan Caton as the Narrator had a fine line in ad libs and dry wit. His asides included “as likely as running out of baby oil at P Diddy’s mansion” and, in reply to an off-colour heckle, “Must be from Gosport”. Nathan then asked “Anyone here from Gosport?” I and others waved and he replied “I thought we’d priced you out”.
There was one small section of superfans all sitting together in a section of the stalls; they did the call-outs and Nathan interacted with them. When Janet was first introduced, he replied to their “Slut!” with “Hey, come on, that’s someone’s daughter!” Natasha Hoeberigs doubled up as the Usherette, giving her book-ending songs a suitably wistful tone, and as Magenta, playing the latter part oozing with sensuality. When we reached the Time Warp early in Act I, only a handful of people got up and did the dance, but when it was performed again for the curtain call the whole audience was doing it.
As we filed out, we passed people waiting to go in for the 8pm show. They were all dressed in full Rocky Horror rigout.
There was one small section of superfans all sitting together in a section of the stalls; they did the call-outs and Nathan interacted with them. When Janet was first introduced, he replied to their “Slut!” with “Hey, come on, that’s someone’s daughter!” Natasha Hoeberigs doubled up as the Usherette, giving her book-ending songs a suitably wistful tone, and as Magenta, playing the latter part oozing with sensuality. When we reached the Time Warp early in Act I, only a handful of people got up and did the dance, but when it was performed again for the curtain call the whole audience was doing it.
As we filed out, we passed people waiting to go in for the 8pm show. They were all dressed in full Rocky Horror rigout.
Some Kind Of A Summer
Aug. 25th, 2024 07:58 pmOur four shows at the 17th Century Village, from 23rd to 26th July, went well. The audiences all loved it. I nailed my comic Welsh accent each time. I ended up using the old religious book Glyn had brought as a stand-in for a Bible, as the front of the leather cover is coming off my much loved Pepys at both top and bottom, to the point where only about a sixth of the height is untorn. On the Thursday Jo came up to congratulate me at the end as we stood in two lines to thank the audience for coming. My mother and Jade came on the Friday, and Jade was over the moon to win two tickets to next summer’s production in the raffle. The Mayor was in the audience on Friday. During Ian’s speech after the curtain call he called the Mayor up to say a few words, the Mayor made a passionate appeal to people to support local arts initiatives, then he talked about how the group had been formed in 1986 and called Ian, Glyn and Carol, the three surviving charter members of the company, to step forward. He did mention Aussie, the other founding member; you could see Carol was deeply affected. I held her hand when she rejoined me in the lineup around the edge.
Then came the final night at Swanmore on the Saturday. The weather was kind this year so we were out in the garden. Glyn hadn’t brought her book so my Pepys was pressed back into service. Thankfully the front cover stayed on. The Swanmore people did us proud again for the after-party with a lavish selection of cakes and nibbles including plenty of cheese. We all signed a thank you card for Ian and Glyn. I talked to Carol, Mark and Sarah, mostly looking forward to Macbeth in February.
With the play’s run over, the following two Wednesdays saw me back at the pétanque club, finally with my own set of boules bought from France - engraved for someone called Gérald who’d changed his mind, allowing me to pick them up at discount. I’m getting a boule on target here and there, but still seeing quite a few go wayward. Nicole says I need to get used to my new smooth boules after previously playing with the club ones with lines engraved. That makes sense.
Sunday the 4th was a highlight, Tiffany (she of I Think We’re Alone Now fame) played the Concorde Club in Eastleigh and on the gate I was able to pay £25 for a VIP upgrade. This allowed me to meet and greet Tiffany before the show. She was lovely, hugging me and allowing me to kiss her on the cheek, then we had a photo taken. The support act was a singer called Nicola Marie who did a great set of 80s hits and had a cheerful line in between-song patter. I got to talk to her after her show, she was good company. Then Tiffany came on. She opened with some rockier numbers from her latest album, telling some stories from her career in between - including how she hated how the record company insisted she wear her hair when she first started out, hence her moody expression on her first album’s cover. She sang Robbie Williams’ Angels, going around the audience stopping by people as she sang; she had her arm around me with her head on my shoulder for half a verse. Then she went into a selection of her hits, including a beautiful rendition of Could’ve Been and concluding with a grandstand finish on I Think We’re Alone Now. We VIPs then queued up by the bar tent and were presented with signed 8x10s of the lady.
I saw FC Romania’s home matches on the Wednesdays of last week and this week. The first game, Ion asked why I’d travelled up - an odd question since he’d given me the season ticket - but he did thank me for my support and shake my hand. Caught up with Scott and Gary at each game; Gary updated me on London Seaward, who are doing well with an almost all new squad after nearly all last year’s players followed Dan to London Bees. I was glad to hear Jo is back in the side. The first game was a 0-0 draw.
On my way home the following day I called at a bookbinder in a village near Hedge End to ask if he could do anything for my Pepys with the falling-apart cover. He said he could do restoration work on it for about £200 but that the book wouldn’t be as valuable as it is in its current state. I agreed to have the work done but he said he can’t start until after Christmas, so I made an appointment to return in January.
Before the second game assistant manager George invited me into the dressing room to meet the team. He got me to introduce myself and told the lads how I travel from Gosport to see them, adding that if that wasn’t motivation to win he didn’t know what was. I wished them good luck and went to sit in the stand, where chairman Chris invited me into the home directors’ section. There was a groundhopper there I’d met before, who kept up a stream of chat for half the game about what games he’d been to, what games he had coming up, and where his travels with work were going to take him next - his job involves being at sporting events all around the world. Jealous doesn’t begin to cover it.
Alas, the second game was lost 4-1. On our way out through the clubhouse, Gary and I agreed the team were looking at a long hard season. Sadly, with my social club commitments on Saturday evenings I’ll only see the Roms one more time before New Year, in an FA Vase tie on a Sunday next month.
Saw AFC Portchester Ladies play a friendly away to Portsmouth Women Reserves. The game was played at the new John Jenkins Stadium but, alas, it was on Pitch 2 which, as well as not being listed on Futbology so I was unable to register this game, had no seats so I had to stand all afternoon. At least the staff let me pop into Pitch 1 without charging me admission, to get crisps and a drink from the tea hatch. It was good to say hello to the girls again, and chat at pitchside all game with my sponsee Sam who was out injured, even if they lost 2-0.
The following week I was back at the Wicor with Jade, expecting to see the Portchester Ladies Reserves in another friendly, but we arrived there to see a game in progress. Happily, we hadn’t missed the main event; the game coming to an end was a training one between the first team and reserves. It did allow me to say hello to Michele, Stacy and Aimee as they came off the pitch.
Jade and I met a familiar face - Lee, who used to be involved with Fleetlands. He’s now chairman at Infinity, whose women’s team were the visitors. He told us about the club’s ambition to progress and urged us to come down to Sidlesham to see their men’s team play, saying he’d give us complimentary admission. A quick check of the fixture website later, we agreed to go over there on Bank Holiday Monday.
It was the Portchester Ladies third team that were playing Infinity. Despite my initial disappointment that it wasn’t the reserves, it turned out to be just as well that it wasn’t, as the Portchester thirds built up a commanding lead before Infinity threw in the towel on 68 minutes when injuries reduced them to eight players.
First a game I couldn’t count because the pitch wasn’t listed, then an abandoned game. Pre-season hadn’t been kind to me on the field, though meeting old friends saved the days from being complete wash-outs. I spoke to the referee as he came off the pitch after the players left the field, explained to him that I was a Futbology user and asked if it would go down as an abandoned game. He said it would go down as a Portchester win. So I’m counting it.
Then came the final night at Swanmore on the Saturday. The weather was kind this year so we were out in the garden. Glyn hadn’t brought her book so my Pepys was pressed back into service. Thankfully the front cover stayed on. The Swanmore people did us proud again for the after-party with a lavish selection of cakes and nibbles including plenty of cheese. We all signed a thank you card for Ian and Glyn. I talked to Carol, Mark and Sarah, mostly looking forward to Macbeth in February.
With the play’s run over, the following two Wednesdays saw me back at the pétanque club, finally with my own set of boules bought from France - engraved for someone called Gérald who’d changed his mind, allowing me to pick them up at discount. I’m getting a boule on target here and there, but still seeing quite a few go wayward. Nicole says I need to get used to my new smooth boules after previously playing with the club ones with lines engraved. That makes sense.
Sunday the 4th was a highlight, Tiffany (she of I Think We’re Alone Now fame) played the Concorde Club in Eastleigh and on the gate I was able to pay £25 for a VIP upgrade. This allowed me to meet and greet Tiffany before the show. She was lovely, hugging me and allowing me to kiss her on the cheek, then we had a photo taken. The support act was a singer called Nicola Marie who did a great set of 80s hits and had a cheerful line in between-song patter. I got to talk to her after her show, she was good company. Then Tiffany came on. She opened with some rockier numbers from her latest album, telling some stories from her career in between - including how she hated how the record company insisted she wear her hair when she first started out, hence her moody expression on her first album’s cover. She sang Robbie Williams’ Angels, going around the audience stopping by people as she sang; she had her arm around me with her head on my shoulder for half a verse. Then she went into a selection of her hits, including a beautiful rendition of Could’ve Been and concluding with a grandstand finish on I Think We’re Alone Now. We VIPs then queued up by the bar tent and were presented with signed 8x10s of the lady.
I saw FC Romania’s home matches on the Wednesdays of last week and this week. The first game, Ion asked why I’d travelled up - an odd question since he’d given me the season ticket - but he did thank me for my support and shake my hand. Caught up with Scott and Gary at each game; Gary updated me on London Seaward, who are doing well with an almost all new squad after nearly all last year’s players followed Dan to London Bees. I was glad to hear Jo is back in the side. The first game was a 0-0 draw.
On my way home the following day I called at a bookbinder in a village near Hedge End to ask if he could do anything for my Pepys with the falling-apart cover. He said he could do restoration work on it for about £200 but that the book wouldn’t be as valuable as it is in its current state. I agreed to have the work done but he said he can’t start until after Christmas, so I made an appointment to return in January.
Before the second game assistant manager George invited me into the dressing room to meet the team. He got me to introduce myself and told the lads how I travel from Gosport to see them, adding that if that wasn’t motivation to win he didn’t know what was. I wished them good luck and went to sit in the stand, where chairman Chris invited me into the home directors’ section. There was a groundhopper there I’d met before, who kept up a stream of chat for half the game about what games he’d been to, what games he had coming up, and where his travels with work were going to take him next - his job involves being at sporting events all around the world. Jealous doesn’t begin to cover it.
Alas, the second game was lost 4-1. On our way out through the clubhouse, Gary and I agreed the team were looking at a long hard season. Sadly, with my social club commitments on Saturday evenings I’ll only see the Roms one more time before New Year, in an FA Vase tie on a Sunday next month.
Saw AFC Portchester Ladies play a friendly away to Portsmouth Women Reserves. The game was played at the new John Jenkins Stadium but, alas, it was on Pitch 2 which, as well as not being listed on Futbology so I was unable to register this game, had no seats so I had to stand all afternoon. At least the staff let me pop into Pitch 1 without charging me admission, to get crisps and a drink from the tea hatch. It was good to say hello to the girls again, and chat at pitchside all game with my sponsee Sam who was out injured, even if they lost 2-0.
The following week I was back at the Wicor with Jade, expecting to see the Portchester Ladies Reserves in another friendly, but we arrived there to see a game in progress. Happily, we hadn’t missed the main event; the game coming to an end was a training one between the first team and reserves. It did allow me to say hello to Michele, Stacy and Aimee as they came off the pitch.
Jade and I met a familiar face - Lee, who used to be involved with Fleetlands. He’s now chairman at Infinity, whose women’s team were the visitors. He told us about the club’s ambition to progress and urged us to come down to Sidlesham to see their men’s team play, saying he’d give us complimentary admission. A quick check of the fixture website later, we agreed to go over there on Bank Holiday Monday.
It was the Portchester Ladies third team that were playing Infinity. Despite my initial disappointment that it wasn’t the reserves, it turned out to be just as well that it wasn’t, as the Portchester thirds built up a commanding lead before Infinity threw in the towel on 68 minutes when injuries reduced them to eight players.
First a game I couldn’t count because the pitch wasn’t listed, then an abandoned game. Pre-season hadn’t been kind to me on the field, though meeting old friends saved the days from being complete wash-outs. I spoke to the referee as he came off the pitch after the players left the field, explained to him that I was a Futbology user and asked if it would go down as an abandoned game. He said it would go down as a Portchester win. So I’m counting it.
The Show Must Go On
Jul. 21st, 2024 07:39 pmWent to Norwich on Friday the 12th for the England v Republic of Ireland Women’s Euro qualifier. At the Gosport ferry I heard a familiar voice say hello. It was Ann. We kissed and renewed our commitment to going for a jar some time. I joined her on the open upper deck of the ferry and she told me how her lad Harrison, never previously a particular fan of football, had been getting into the men’s Euro 2024 to the point where he thought he knew tactics better than Southgate.
The Free Lionesses had organised a joint meet-up with the Irish fans at the Coach and Horses pub. Rachel was already there when I arrived, of course. Over the course of the afternoon Crystal, Sue, Leanne, Maisie and Ash all arrived. I chatted with them, some of the Irish, and Lynsey and her friend for whom I’d got tickets, over tasty dirty fries and a steady procession of ciders.
In the queue to get into the stadium I met my old friend Katie Poore, former player and manager of Portsmouth Ladies, and legendary women’s football pioneer Vanessa Raynbird.
England raced into an early lead through Alessia Russo from a neat Beth Mead pass. The Lionesses dominated the first half but inspired goalkeeping from Courtney Brosnan kept us down to the one goal. A Georgia Stanway penalty on 57 minutes doubled our lead, but after that the Lionesses seemed to take their foot off the pedal. In the closing minutes lackadaisical defending allowed the Irish to score. Their fans in the corner went bananas. Mercifully the whistle went and England had the precious three points. A draw in Sweden needed to qualify automatically.
Rachel had set the post-match meet-up for the Queen of the Iceni pub. When I arrived there, no-one else I knew was in evidence. I guessed people had decided to give it a miss because of low spirits due to the Lionesses’ low-key performance. Then Crystal approached me and I hung out with her and her friend, and a group of fellow England fans they fell in with, drinking Kopparberg for about an hour, till I said my goodbyes and wandered back to the Premier Inn as I had an early start next morning. It turned out I missed a treat.
A detour on my way home on the Saturday, to Walthamstow for FC Romania’s friendly at West Essex. On the bus ride from Stratford to Walthamstow, my fan group’s Messenger chat was alive with interesting messages. It seems that after I left the Queen of the Iceni, Crystal, who was wearing her green England goalkeeper’s shirt with EARPS 1 on, met a young man who took her for Mary Earps! Maisie had seen him post on Instagram that he’d met Mary; she, recognising Crystal in the photo, had been highly amused, but had disillusioned the chap - much to Crystal’s regret.
Walthamstow High Street is strangely devoid of coffee shop chains. Not a Costa, Starbucks or Caffe Nero in sight. I found a nice little café and got a good decaf mocha there.
Alas, FC Romania’s game, a 1pm kick-off, had been shunted to the 3G cage. Seeing the main stadium apparently deserted I didn’t see why we couldn’t play there, though later people from Walthamstow and their opponents arrived and it became clear that their 3pm kick-off was being played on the main pitch.
I headed over to the FC Romania camp, said hello to Ion the manager who thanked me for coming, and met George the assistant manager, Chris the new chairman and his wife Louise, and John the former chairman and his wife Barbara. An official came round to say everyone apart from players and occupants of technical areas would need to watch from outside the cage, for insurance reasons. We non-coaches pottered around the edge of the pitch to the gate and out onto the grass bank.
We were joined by Scott, a fan of FC Romania’s landlords Cheshunt FC who now also follows FC Romania - the ‘Roms’ as he calls them. Scott had a wicked sense of humour and kept us entertained through the afternoon. On learning I was a new fan, Scott said to me “If you’re going to support the Roms, you have to be aware, you’ll see yellow cards, red cards, and plenty of goals - both for and against. They’ll win some and lose some, but it’ll never be dull.” All the FC Romania people were friendly and welcoming.
True to Scott’s analysis, FC Romania went 2-0 in front but ended up losing 3-2. At the final whistle I said goodbye to the others. In the main car park I passed George who said “See you Tuesday”. I explained I was tied up for the next fortnight and would see them in August.
Then on the Sunday it was the dress rehearsal with the amdram group. All seemed to go well.
Tuesday I watched the first half of the vital Sweden v England Women’s qualifier, then it was plain-clothes rehearsal of key scenes. Before and after my first scenes, I refreshed BBC Sport until, following six agonising minutes of time added on, and reports on the text commentary told of Swedish near misses, the magic letters FT appeared under the 0-0 scoreline, allowing me to rehearse in a relaxed - and relieved - frame of mind for the rest of the evening.
We opened at a local hotel on Thursday. In the room assigned to us for changing, organisers Ian and Glyn had left us a greeting card thanking us for our efforts and saying “You are all ‘Heroes’,” together with a box of Heroes. There was a problem with the technical equipment which meant we started late, and at this venue we had two intervals to allow for patrons ordering food and drink, so it was past 11pm when we took our curtain call. By then the audience had thinned somewhat.
On Friday evening at Sway, before the performance Ian told us the previous night had been fabulous. The people at Sway looked after us, with a handsome buffet including cheese and pickle sandwiches on brown bread, cheese straws, satsumas and some excellent Rocky Road. It was a warm evening, just right for outdoor theatre, though back indoors after the play the heat had some of us gasping. Our Touchstone needed a prompt during his speech about the seven degrees of the quarrel, but between them he and Carol, on prompt duty, sold it so well that it got belters.
Yesterday evening we performed at Buckler’s Hard. It was a 6pm start. Unexpectedly, at 5pm the heavens opened, necessitating us shifting our gear from the wooden outbuilding we’d been in and us all cramming into the tiny gazebo, allowing the audience’s chairs to be placed in the outbuilding to give them, and us, cover. By ten to six the rain had eased to intermittent, and we had the audience move their chairs forward onto the veranda area while we performed on the grass right in front of them. Those of us not onstage at a given time mostly all crammed into the gazebo, though a few braved the elements from time to time to watch the action from the wings. There were no refreshments provided here, but Carol’s daughter Anna who’d come to see the play was a lifesaver, coming round to the gazebo at the interval to say she had a generous array of crisps, sausage rolls, chicken satay skewers, biscuits and sweets for us and inviting us to meet her in the front row to help ourselves. At the end of the interval she left her leftover nibbles with us, then at the end of the play she, and Ian and Glyn’s daughter Emily, both former members of the company, came to have a chat with us, Anna bearing a tub of sweets and inviting us to tuck in.
I travelled with Jan, Eddie and Jo. As we pulled away we all agreed we prefer these 6pm starts, as we get to leave at a decent hour instead of arriving home after midnight.
And now we have a couple of nights off.
The Free Lionesses had organised a joint meet-up with the Irish fans at the Coach and Horses pub. Rachel was already there when I arrived, of course. Over the course of the afternoon Crystal, Sue, Leanne, Maisie and Ash all arrived. I chatted with them, some of the Irish, and Lynsey and her friend for whom I’d got tickets, over tasty dirty fries and a steady procession of ciders.
In the queue to get into the stadium I met my old friend Katie Poore, former player and manager of Portsmouth Ladies, and legendary women’s football pioneer Vanessa Raynbird.
England raced into an early lead through Alessia Russo from a neat Beth Mead pass. The Lionesses dominated the first half but inspired goalkeeping from Courtney Brosnan kept us down to the one goal. A Georgia Stanway penalty on 57 minutes doubled our lead, but after that the Lionesses seemed to take their foot off the pedal. In the closing minutes lackadaisical defending allowed the Irish to score. Their fans in the corner went bananas. Mercifully the whistle went and England had the precious three points. A draw in Sweden needed to qualify automatically.
Rachel had set the post-match meet-up for the Queen of the Iceni pub. When I arrived there, no-one else I knew was in evidence. I guessed people had decided to give it a miss because of low spirits due to the Lionesses’ low-key performance. Then Crystal approached me and I hung out with her and her friend, and a group of fellow England fans they fell in with, drinking Kopparberg for about an hour, till I said my goodbyes and wandered back to the Premier Inn as I had an early start next morning. It turned out I missed a treat.
A detour on my way home on the Saturday, to Walthamstow for FC Romania’s friendly at West Essex. On the bus ride from Stratford to Walthamstow, my fan group’s Messenger chat was alive with interesting messages. It seems that after I left the Queen of the Iceni, Crystal, who was wearing her green England goalkeeper’s shirt with EARPS 1 on, met a young man who took her for Mary Earps! Maisie had seen him post on Instagram that he’d met Mary; she, recognising Crystal in the photo, had been highly amused, but had disillusioned the chap - much to Crystal’s regret.
Walthamstow High Street is strangely devoid of coffee shop chains. Not a Costa, Starbucks or Caffe Nero in sight. I found a nice little café and got a good decaf mocha there.
Alas, FC Romania’s game, a 1pm kick-off, had been shunted to the 3G cage. Seeing the main stadium apparently deserted I didn’t see why we couldn’t play there, though later people from Walthamstow and their opponents arrived and it became clear that their 3pm kick-off was being played on the main pitch.
I headed over to the FC Romania camp, said hello to Ion the manager who thanked me for coming, and met George the assistant manager, Chris the new chairman and his wife Louise, and John the former chairman and his wife Barbara. An official came round to say everyone apart from players and occupants of technical areas would need to watch from outside the cage, for insurance reasons. We non-coaches pottered around the edge of the pitch to the gate and out onto the grass bank.
We were joined by Scott, a fan of FC Romania’s landlords Cheshunt FC who now also follows FC Romania - the ‘Roms’ as he calls them. Scott had a wicked sense of humour and kept us entertained through the afternoon. On learning I was a new fan, Scott said to me “If you’re going to support the Roms, you have to be aware, you’ll see yellow cards, red cards, and plenty of goals - both for and against. They’ll win some and lose some, but it’ll never be dull.” All the FC Romania people were friendly and welcoming.
True to Scott’s analysis, FC Romania went 2-0 in front but ended up losing 3-2. At the final whistle I said goodbye to the others. In the main car park I passed George who said “See you Tuesday”. I explained I was tied up for the next fortnight and would see them in August.
Then on the Sunday it was the dress rehearsal with the amdram group. All seemed to go well.
Tuesday I watched the first half of the vital Sweden v England Women’s qualifier, then it was plain-clothes rehearsal of key scenes. Before and after my first scenes, I refreshed BBC Sport until, following six agonising minutes of time added on, and reports on the text commentary told of Swedish near misses, the magic letters FT appeared under the 0-0 scoreline, allowing me to rehearse in a relaxed - and relieved - frame of mind for the rest of the evening.
We opened at a local hotel on Thursday. In the room assigned to us for changing, organisers Ian and Glyn had left us a greeting card thanking us for our efforts and saying “You are all ‘Heroes’,” together with a box of Heroes. There was a problem with the technical equipment which meant we started late, and at this venue we had two intervals to allow for patrons ordering food and drink, so it was past 11pm when we took our curtain call. By then the audience had thinned somewhat.
On Friday evening at Sway, before the performance Ian told us the previous night had been fabulous. The people at Sway looked after us, with a handsome buffet including cheese and pickle sandwiches on brown bread, cheese straws, satsumas and some excellent Rocky Road. It was a warm evening, just right for outdoor theatre, though back indoors after the play the heat had some of us gasping. Our Touchstone needed a prompt during his speech about the seven degrees of the quarrel, but between them he and Carol, on prompt duty, sold it so well that it got belters.
Yesterday evening we performed at Buckler’s Hard. It was a 6pm start. Unexpectedly, at 5pm the heavens opened, necessitating us shifting our gear from the wooden outbuilding we’d been in and us all cramming into the tiny gazebo, allowing the audience’s chairs to be placed in the outbuilding to give them, and us, cover. By ten to six the rain had eased to intermittent, and we had the audience move their chairs forward onto the veranda area while we performed on the grass right in front of them. Those of us not onstage at a given time mostly all crammed into the gazebo, though a few braved the elements from time to time to watch the action from the wings. There were no refreshments provided here, but Carol’s daughter Anna who’d come to see the play was a lifesaver, coming round to the gazebo at the interval to say she had a generous array of crisps, sausage rolls, chicken satay skewers, biscuits and sweets for us and inviting us to meet her in the front row to help ourselves. At the end of the interval she left her leftover nibbles with us, then at the end of the play she, and Ian and Glyn’s daughter Emily, both former members of the company, came to have a chat with us, Anna bearing a tub of sweets and inviting us to tuck in.
I travelled with Jan, Eddie and Jo. As we pulled away we all agreed we prefer these 6pm starts, as we get to leave at a decent hour instead of arriving home after midnight.
And now we have a couple of nights off.
Dragostea Din Tei
Jul. 7th, 2024 07:03 pmI’ve been wanting to go see FC Romania for years. Till now other calls on my time and funds always got in the way. This summer it looked like my chance might be gone, as the club hovered close to liquidation for several weeks, but happily AC1 Developments and AC1 Construction stepped in to save the club at the eleventh hour with a sponsorship deal.
So yesterday I set off for London where FC Romania were playing a friendly with Athletic Newham at the Bobby Moore Sports Hub in Dagenham.
My messages of support for the club online, and post on Facebook that I was travelling to the game, hadn’t gone unnoticed. I was sheltering from the drizzle in the bike shed outside the Hub when the club’s president/trainer Ion Vintila (I knew him by his FC Romania tracksuit with IV on) walked over to me. “You travelled from Portsmouth, yes?”
I put my food down and wiped my hands clean with a tissue to shake his hand. He thanked me for my support and handed me a yellow plastic card. It was a FC Romania season ticket. I thanked him effusively and he headed back into the hub.
I passed through the Hub front doors and turned into the cafe. A group of players from Dagenham & Redbridge were sat around one table. All around the cafe and the foyer football people were bustling around. A match from the Arab Cup in Qatar was showing on the TV screen. Alas, the cafe didn’t have decaf coffee so I settled for a can of cherry and vanilla fizz.
I saw a man in a Wycombe Wanderers coat. Guessing rightly that he was groundhopping legend Russell Cox I went over to say hello. He was there because he’d been let down for a lift to Ledbury; at least he was still getting a new tick here. The ground was the usual new-build community sports hub cum lower non-league venue with an Identikit small stand along one side, and a tiny stand and a covered metal terrace behind one goal. Pitch 1, which we were on, was the Sir Trevor Brooking Pitch. I was gratified to see, on the separating fence, a sign proclaiming Pitch 2 to be the Chloe Kelly Pitch.
Athletic Newham dominated the game and won 3-0. At the final whistle I said a quick goodbye to Russell and gave Ion a wave, then had to leg it to the tube station to be back for my social club in the evening. Made it home just in time to see the England v Switzerland penalty shoot-out.
First dress rehearsal with the amdram group today. Wardrobe Mistress Glyn pulled me up for my leggings only coming three quarters of the way down my shins. I promised to buy long black sports socks during the week.
So yesterday I set off for London where FC Romania were playing a friendly with Athletic Newham at the Bobby Moore Sports Hub in Dagenham.
My messages of support for the club online, and post on Facebook that I was travelling to the game, hadn’t gone unnoticed. I was sheltering from the drizzle in the bike shed outside the Hub when the club’s president/trainer Ion Vintila (I knew him by his FC Romania tracksuit with IV on) walked over to me. “You travelled from Portsmouth, yes?”
I put my food down and wiped my hands clean with a tissue to shake his hand. He thanked me for my support and handed me a yellow plastic card. It was a FC Romania season ticket. I thanked him effusively and he headed back into the hub.
I passed through the Hub front doors and turned into the cafe. A group of players from Dagenham & Redbridge were sat around one table. All around the cafe and the foyer football people were bustling around. A match from the Arab Cup in Qatar was showing on the TV screen. Alas, the cafe didn’t have decaf coffee so I settled for a can of cherry and vanilla fizz.
I saw a man in a Wycombe Wanderers coat. Guessing rightly that he was groundhopping legend Russell Cox I went over to say hello. He was there because he’d been let down for a lift to Ledbury; at least he was still getting a new tick here. The ground was the usual new-build community sports hub cum lower non-league venue with an Identikit small stand along one side, and a tiny stand and a covered metal terrace behind one goal. Pitch 1, which we were on, was the Sir Trevor Brooking Pitch. I was gratified to see, on the separating fence, a sign proclaiming Pitch 2 to be the Chloe Kelly Pitch.
Athletic Newham dominated the game and won 3-0. At the final whistle I said a quick goodbye to Russell and gave Ion a wave, then had to leg it to the tube station to be back for my social club in the evening. Made it home just in time to see the England v Switzerland penalty shoot-out.
First dress rehearsal with the amdram group today. Wardrobe Mistress Glyn pulled me up for my leggings only coming three quarters of the way down my shins. I promised to buy long black sports socks during the week.
Rehearsal with the amdram group. Ian and Glyn, our organisers, went down to Cornwall earlier in the week to see a production of As You Like It - the very play we’re doing. The company they saw gave it a humorous take, with a cast of seven people and a sheep (!) playing all the parts.
At the end of our own rehearsal tonight, Ian said the production they’d seen had been good - “but you’re better. You’re livelier, funnier, your inferences are great”. Earlier he’d said to me “Their Martext was rubbish, he’s not a patch on you”.
At the end of our own rehearsal tonight, Ian said the production they’d seen had been good - “but you’re better. You’re livelier, funnier, your inferences are great”. Earlier he’d said to me “Their Martext was rubbish, he’s not a patch on you”.
Diamond Smiles
Jul. 3rd, 2024 03:46 pmHaving found an NHS dentist in Southampton, went for check-up this morning. The reception lady was warm and friendly enough, and the dentist was an affable Asian chap. As he was inspecting my teeth he seemed to be telling the nurse he might have to do an extraction, but, happily, when the X rays he took of two of my teeth came in, he gave me an all clear.
Oye Como Va
Jun. 23rd, 2024 12:00 amTo London for International Surrey Football v Equinoccial FC at one of my old haunts, St Paul’s Sports Ground, home of Fisher FC.
Nostalgic as it was to return there, my main motivation for travelling to this game was to see Equinoccial, a team centred on London-based Latin American players, who had a write-up in the Non-League Paper a few weeks ago.
My journey went fine until I arrived at Canada Water tube station to find the East London line closed. Happily there was a bus to Rotherhithe from outside the station.
Outside the ground I spotted one of the Equinoccial guys in a neat black training top with the flags of all the Latin American countries around the bases of the sleeves.
In the clubhouse I met groundhopper Kevin who I’d seen at several Lionesses matches and at a London Seaward game early last season. I joined him in the stand, sitting near Toby, a Fisher fan I’d met before, and Pete, a Dulwich Hamlet fan he introduced me to. We talked about our football watching exploits, and plans and hopes for future travels, as we watched Equinoccial win an entertaining game 4-1 to the delight of a group of Latin American women to our left. Early in the second half Andy, who I used to see at cricket some years ago, came over, saying he couldn’t believe I was here. He added “Gosport boys stick together,” sat with us and joined our conversation.
Kev and I left the ground at the same time after the game. With Kev’s phone showing 11 minutes till the next bus was due, Kev said he was going to walk to the next stop to get some steps in. In need of some exercise myself, I joined him. At the next stop Kev’s phone was still saying 11 minutes, so he decided to walk on one more stop. I stayed put. Kev said “See you on the bus”.
Andy arrived at the stop I was at. Two Victoria-bound buses came and went; Andy decided to wait with me for the Waterloo one. Kev must have got on one of the Victoria buses, as when our Waterloo bus finally came, there was no sign of him at the next stop. Andy talked about Gosport Borough’s prospects for the new season until he got off at Bermondsey.
This evening the official Equinoccial Twitter account messaged me to thank me for my support and say they hoped to see me again.
Buena suerte to Equinoccial FC, my adopted second men’s team.
Nostalgic as it was to return there, my main motivation for travelling to this game was to see Equinoccial, a team centred on London-based Latin American players, who had a write-up in the Non-League Paper a few weeks ago.
My journey went fine until I arrived at Canada Water tube station to find the East London line closed. Happily there was a bus to Rotherhithe from outside the station.
Outside the ground I spotted one of the Equinoccial guys in a neat black training top with the flags of all the Latin American countries around the bases of the sleeves.
In the clubhouse I met groundhopper Kevin who I’d seen at several Lionesses matches and at a London Seaward game early last season. I joined him in the stand, sitting near Toby, a Fisher fan I’d met before, and Pete, a Dulwich Hamlet fan he introduced me to. We talked about our football watching exploits, and plans and hopes for future travels, as we watched Equinoccial win an entertaining game 4-1 to the delight of a group of Latin American women to our left. Early in the second half Andy, who I used to see at cricket some years ago, came over, saying he couldn’t believe I was here. He added “Gosport boys stick together,” sat with us and joined our conversation.
Kev and I left the ground at the same time after the game. With Kev’s phone showing 11 minutes till the next bus was due, Kev said he was going to walk to the next stop to get some steps in. In need of some exercise myself, I joined him. At the next stop Kev’s phone was still saying 11 minutes, so he decided to walk on one more stop. I stayed put. Kev said “See you on the bus”.
Andy arrived at the stop I was at. Two Victoria-bound buses came and went; Andy decided to wait with me for the Waterloo one. Kev must have got on one of the Victoria buses, as when our Waterloo bus finally came, there was no sign of him at the next stop. Andy talked about Gosport Borough’s prospects for the new season until he got off at Bermondsey.
This evening the official Equinoccial Twitter account messaged me to thank me for my support and say they hoped to see me again.
Buena suerte to Equinoccial FC, my adopted second men’s team.
A trip to Southampton Library on Friday, then up early on Saturday to travel to Hertford, for the last chapters in the saga of chronicling every football match I’ve attended on the Futbology app.
The Southampton Echo did a great job of covering women’s football in the 90s and 00s, so the microfilms of past papers allowed me to fill a couple of gaps in my records.
I went to the Leyton v Hemel Hempstead Town friendly on 6 August 2005 - the programme is among one of the boxes of assorted sports souvenirs in my shed - but, alas, many years ago I purged my online diary for 2001-2006 (a decision I have rued many times since), and I have no subsequent Leyton programmes from that season, so had been unable to ascertain the scoreline. Hence Saturday’s visit to the Hertfordshire Archives and Local Studies Centre.
The staff there were friendly and welcoming, and one of them showed me how to load the microfilm machine and operate the viewscreen. Happily, the Hemel Hempstead Gazette for 10 August 2005 had an article summing up its home town team’s pre-season friendlies, including that Hemel lost the Leyton match 4-1.
The mission I’d come on was accomplished, but, with time to spare, I checked out the various Hertfordshire newspapers in search of the one match I’d been resigned to being unable to pin down.
15 November 1998. Barnet FC Ladies Reserves. I remember vividly that the team wore a fetching silver kit. I remember some of the individual players - Marie Thomas, Liz Davies, Sally Jobson, Paula Apple and Elizabeth ‘Fizz’ Foley. I remember, in the bar after the game, Liz telling me “Paula wants a birthday kiss” - I planted a peck on her cheek, despite one girl adding “With tongues”.
What I do not recall, alas and alack, is who the opposition were or what the result was.
I think Barnet probably won, because the girls were in good spirits in the bar after. I’d convinced myself that I remembered it was 1-0, because I had a hazy idea that Paula scored the only goal and that that was why they drew attention to her birthday. But really I can’t swear to it hand on heart.
I’d likewise told myself that I remembered that Berkhamsted Town Ladies Reserves were the opposition.
But Friday’s check with the Southampton local papers had shown me that my folk memories were faulty. A game I’d thought I remembered as a 3-0 was a 5-0; one I’d been convinced was a 3-1 was a 6-0.
The truth is I just can’t recall for certain who the opponents were, Berkhamsted or anyone else. An email to my previous contact at Barnet who helped me with their late 90s first-team games a couple of years ago has gone unanswered; her phone number appears on a football stats website but the number is ‘temporarily unavailable’.
So with both Barnet and Berkhamsted being Hertfordshire teams, I checked the different local newspapers for November 1998. But most of them didn’t cover women’s football at all back then and the one that did covered local grass roots cups, but, bizarrely, not second-tier outfits Barnet and Berkhamsted. Dead end.
So my archive on Futbology contains all the 1800-plus football matches I’ve attended. They’re all listed in full, clubs and result … with one exception.
15 November 1998. Barnet FC Ladies Reserves v ‘unknown team’. With the score listed as 0-0 because you have to put something.
And that anomaly haunts me. It’s like an otherwise very beautiful woman with one prominent bodily blemish.
A damn shame.
Another deflation was to come on the train from Hertford back to London. A notification flashed across the top of my phone. My notification flashes contain the beginning of the message, followed by three dots to indicate that there’s more.
The notification was from WhatsApp, from an unfamiliar phone number. It read “Hi [eiffel_71]. My name is Nat…”
Of course I wanted it to say “My name is Natasha. You may remember me from QM.” Natasha was one of the Legendary Ladies.
Or “My name is Natalie. You may remember me from Tranmere” would have been good.
No such luck. It was from a bloke called Nathan I’d met at the D-Day beacon ceremony, wanting to add me to the WhatsApp group for the local branch of the political party were both affiliated to.
The Southampton Echo did a great job of covering women’s football in the 90s and 00s, so the microfilms of past papers allowed me to fill a couple of gaps in my records.
I went to the Leyton v Hemel Hempstead Town friendly on 6 August 2005 - the programme is among one of the boxes of assorted sports souvenirs in my shed - but, alas, many years ago I purged my online diary for 2001-2006 (a decision I have rued many times since), and I have no subsequent Leyton programmes from that season, so had been unable to ascertain the scoreline. Hence Saturday’s visit to the Hertfordshire Archives and Local Studies Centre.
The staff there were friendly and welcoming, and one of them showed me how to load the microfilm machine and operate the viewscreen. Happily, the Hemel Hempstead Gazette for 10 August 2005 had an article summing up its home town team’s pre-season friendlies, including that Hemel lost the Leyton match 4-1.
The mission I’d come on was accomplished, but, with time to spare, I checked out the various Hertfordshire newspapers in search of the one match I’d been resigned to being unable to pin down.
15 November 1998. Barnet FC Ladies Reserves. I remember vividly that the team wore a fetching silver kit. I remember some of the individual players - Marie Thomas, Liz Davies, Sally Jobson, Paula Apple and Elizabeth ‘Fizz’ Foley. I remember, in the bar after the game, Liz telling me “Paula wants a birthday kiss” - I planted a peck on her cheek, despite one girl adding “With tongues”.
What I do not recall, alas and alack, is who the opposition were or what the result was.
I think Barnet probably won, because the girls were in good spirits in the bar after. I’d convinced myself that I remembered it was 1-0, because I had a hazy idea that Paula scored the only goal and that that was why they drew attention to her birthday. But really I can’t swear to it hand on heart.
I’d likewise told myself that I remembered that Berkhamsted Town Ladies Reserves were the opposition.
But Friday’s check with the Southampton local papers had shown me that my folk memories were faulty. A game I’d thought I remembered as a 3-0 was a 5-0; one I’d been convinced was a 3-1 was a 6-0.
The truth is I just can’t recall for certain who the opponents were, Berkhamsted or anyone else. An email to my previous contact at Barnet who helped me with their late 90s first-team games a couple of years ago has gone unanswered; her phone number appears on a football stats website but the number is ‘temporarily unavailable’.
So with both Barnet and Berkhamsted being Hertfordshire teams, I checked the different local newspapers for November 1998. But most of them didn’t cover women’s football at all back then and the one that did covered local grass roots cups, but, bizarrely, not second-tier outfits Barnet and Berkhamsted. Dead end.
So my archive on Futbology contains all the 1800-plus football matches I’ve attended. They’re all listed in full, clubs and result … with one exception.
15 November 1998. Barnet FC Ladies Reserves v ‘unknown team’. With the score listed as 0-0 because you have to put something.
And that anomaly haunts me. It’s like an otherwise very beautiful woman with one prominent bodily blemish.
A damn shame.
Another deflation was to come on the train from Hertford back to London. A notification flashed across the top of my phone. My notification flashes contain the beginning of the message, followed by three dots to indicate that there’s more.
The notification was from WhatsApp, from an unfamiliar phone number. It read “Hi [eiffel_71]. My name is Nat…”
Of course I wanted it to say “My name is Natasha. You may remember me from QM.” Natasha was one of the Legendary Ladies.
Or “My name is Natalie. You may remember me from Tranmere” would have been good.
No such luck. It was from a bloke called Nathan I’d met at the D-Day beacon ceremony, wanting to add me to the WhatsApp group for the local branch of the political party were both affiliated to.
