Out vile jelly!

It seemed that TLF had come over a bit King Lear, prompted by the dismal Saints defending that led to them conceding a 3rd goal against winless away from home Eastbourne. The right arm was in full gesticulation mode in an attempt to convey both despair and the manner in which the Eastbourne player had strolled through/past the Saints defence. Unfortunately, our esteemed programme editor chose that precise moment to walk past TLF and skewered his eyeball on the hand of said arm. He was Gloucester to TLF’s Regan.

Although I am not sure that TLF was really channelling her inner Regan that much. Not convinced that the less than pleasant daughter of Shakespearean tragedy would have responded positively to Knocky’s request to cover the programme sales for him. Not that anyone is ever pleased to see you in that role (see what I did there?) they just say ‘Where’ s Knocky?’

Nor are there many references to her retail preferences in the play text. Although I suppose, Lear does say to her, “Thou art a lady; if only to go warm were gorgeous. Why nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st.” So maybe she would have been as interested in the gorgeous contents of the Mega Shed as TLF was. The merchandise that is, not the temporary shopkeeper(sorry Trevor). Although of course it was his sales skills that convinced TLF to part with significantly more of the contents of her wallet than had originally been intended.

It was very much a case of much needed retail therapy on this occasion as there was little on the pitch to warm the non-league day cockles. After an early lead it all went pear shaped for the Mighty Saints and while we could all stand around and debate how things might have been different if we had been given one of those penalties we didn’t get, I think we know we would only have been fooling ourselves. A scene from a tragedy off the pitch and certainly one taking place on it.

Regan Fox

“It’s going to rain
You will get wet
Your team will be segregated
And you will lose.”

And a ‘Bon voyage’ to you too Mr TLF.

Not the words that a TLF needed to hear. She was already feeling under pressure; not having realised that looking up a few train times on behalf of those travelling to Maidenheadstone, would mean be newly christened Fox Tours. A new title means expectations, which seemed higher than a TLF in possession of a Trainline App necessarily merited. Although when you look at the meticulous research, carefully recorded as per illustration below, perhaps the faith was well founded.

The only thing is the business model might require a bit more work. Fox Tours are really good at getting people ‘there’. But if ‘there’ involves a pub, then Fox Tours doesn’t really do ‘getting back again’. And sometimes if it involves a pub before getting to the ground, we might not be responsible for that bit of the itinerary either. Perhaps a slight tweak to the small print is required..

And what of Mr TLF’s predictions for the day?
It did not rain; not a single brolly unfurled in anger.

We were, pointlessly segregated. Meaning no access to their fine sounding club house (boo!) but their food kiosk did have cans of Fosters (any lager-port in a storm) and some very fine pastry products.

We did most definitely lose.

But on the plus side TLF Tours had identified a decent pre match pub, which offered the holy trinity of snackage, and the staff at Maidenheadstone couldn’t have been nicer.

One thing I don’t think any travel outfit can legislate for of course is Thameslink, so sadly the TLF Tours party did not reach their home destination at the scheduled time. Claims should be sent to Thameslink Trains, the small print making it clear that TLF Tours can’t be held responsible for the deficiencies of third party providers.

So TLF Tours survived its maiden (BOOM!) voyage. Perhaps we will expand our operations, current form on the pitch sadly suggests a ready made slogan. ‘TLF Tours, helping you smile in defeat’.

ABTA Fox

It’s football Jim, but not as we know it. As they never said in Star Trek.

Of course it is still 11 v 11. And it does involve train travel.
But it’s Wemberlee, it’s Ingurland and it’s my 11 year old Godson’s special birthday present from TLF his (un)Godmother (UGM). It’s a whole different level of excitement. And that’s just me and his Dad.

The whole day out with an 11 year old is a bit of new experience for a TLF. For a start they seem to need more regular refuelling than my usual footballing companions. A serious bit of lunch at St Albans very own Meze Bar seemed to hit the spot. No room for desert and the Meze Bar was awarded the accolade of ‘third favourite restaurant ever’ (after Wagamama’s and a Japanese place in his home town). High praise indeed. But by the time we leave the stadium, it’s ‘where are we eating?’ TLF’s offer of home-made ‘something-on-toast’ was not greeted with the enthusiasm it deserved from the father or his offspring. ‘Kebab and chips’, regardless of the slight similarities with lunchtime items did get the seal of approval. Some days you’ve just got to swallow your chef pride and go with the majority.

Eleven also seems to be the ‘curious age’.
What’s that for? Well how does that work?
Where’s the train?
Why do you have so many earrings?
Why do they have that arch over the stadium?
Why did the old one have Twin Towers?
Why are they making us wait to get into Wembley Park tube?
Why do you like alcohol?
WOAH!!! Now steady on young man. There are some things you just shouldn’t ask a TLF.

In response to my, “because it tastes nice.” He tells me that, “No. Beer tastes like wee.” TLF does enquire about how he knows what wee tastes like, but answer came there none.

He has really got it in for the nectar of the Gods though. At 4.20pm, with 40 minutes to kick off TLF is sitting (!) in the airport lounge-esque area of Wemberlee thinking that a beer from the craft ale stand wouldn’t be a bad option. Except the small person whose treat it actually is, made it clear that he had a focus, “once you have finished your alcohol can we go to our seats please?” TLF is suitably embarrassed into supping up.

An easy 4-0 for Ingurland, a pretty decent trip home and by 9.30pm everyone is tucked up in their beds. After a greasy spoon trip the next day, TLF waves au revoir to the boys. A message later tells me ‘best day out ever’. And for that he is forgiven his anti-alcohol agenda.

Soppy UGM Fox

The bank holiday weekend beckoned. TLF arose with a spring in her paw, successful football negotiations were concluded; eschew (BOOM!) the home game on the Monday in return for a Satday that like a Fry’s Turkish Delight would be full of eastern promise. Admittedly there would be no sand, no background flute soundtrack, no mysterious plotline, no moody people in floaty scarves, indeed there would be no 1970s chocolate bar advert stereotypes, but there would be a trip to the mystery that is Billericay.

Transport was not a stallion galloping across the dunes but Julie in her car on the M25, kindly transporting Adrian and TLF towards our destination.

It always feels like someone is waiting to laugh at Billericay. Home to the eponymous Gavin from Gavin and Stacey (YES we all know it’s not actually filmed there), ‘immortalised’ according to Wikipedia in the Ian Dury song Billericay Dickie (check the lyrics, not sure the doyens of Billericay would use the word immortal) and mentioned in the George Orwell classic, Down and out in Paris and London. What’s not to like?

Some folk would start with the wonder of the east that is Glenn Tamplin, self-made millionaire and owner, and one time manager of Billericay Town FC – before he sacked himself. He does or least certainly had, a penchant and wallet for signing ex-Premier League players (Paul Konchesky and Jamie O’Hara for example) and some of his forays into the twittersphere could be marked down as a bit eccentric. But do you know what? While his mural might be a bit well, out there, my Eastern experience was nothing but good, so fair play to the football club.

The ground is tidy, the staff are welcoming, there was sausage roll snackage, and the bar, that crucial TLF yardstick was spacious and well staffed. And here’s to Kay, who after our own Clarence Park bar staff is now officially TLF’s best bar lady in Conference South. It’s the first time I have ever ordered a round and been asked which drink is mine, so that she can pour that first so I’m ‘not waiting for my beer’. She also had a funny story about Guinness but that’s for another day. Even the bar punters were polite, “after you” and “actually I think this TLF was first” are not phrases you often hear during the pressure of securing your half time pint.

Weather amazing and touched that Sir Barry of Skillet checked that TLF was being sensible vis a vis sunscreen application. Nivea since you ask, but other brands are available. Fine company of the usual variety and best of all, a surprise and very welcome meeting with legendary ground hopper, Alan Oliver, who I met during my first season watching the Mighty Saints, and who is now ticking off all the conference south grounds (two to go!!).

The east couldn’t deliver a result, as the Mighty Saints went down 3-2, but if eastern promise = good day out, then while I never liked that chocolate bar it did deliver.

TBD (Tricky Billericay Dickie) TLF
 

 


 
 
 
 
 
 

A bit like a golden ticket, a hen’s tooth, or perhaps permission to stay in a country you have worked in, contributing to economy etc etc for years (OOH TLF dips a paw briefly into political commentary), a skool nite football pass (SNFP) is not easy to come by. Particularly when the applicant has just spent the previous four nights abandoning Mr TLF/keeping a relationship strong by having separate interests (delete according to your position on TLF absenteeism).

Even with seemingly insurmountable barriers, TLF managed successful negotiations; I await the call from UN to solve all future conflicts although whether bribes of ‘lunch out when we next play at home on a Satday’ will placate deep, historical divisions across the globe I am unsure.
And so, it was that TLF found herself at Clarence Park on a Tuesday night.

Braintree were our guests. Pointless Braintree. No offence meant to the citizens of Braintree, but they were bottom of the whole world. Nil points, zilch, zero and with a goal difference of minus seven. Surely time for the Mighty Saints to get a first win.

Nothing if not generous St Albans City FC.
Braintree left with 3 goals and 3 points.

Other than the development of the real beer stand selling crisps (Lesta’s finest too), two cheeky Stellas on a skool nite and the value for money that was Helen with a very unseasonal glass of sherry, this was the biggest waste of a SNFP ever.
Mr TLF granted it. Can we blame him?

So-over-evening-football Fox