With half marathon training hamstrung, by well, a hamstring, it has become clear that the less there is of TLF on 11 June the better. Particularly as if the worse comes to the worse, Julie will be dragging me round by my ears.

That means calorie counting via an App has become a crucial part of the TLF regime. It was fine in theory but after a very successful first 24 hours, the first hurdle came into view…that second leg Champions League fixture against Seville and only 650 calories left to devote to the game and all associated rituals. The obvious answer of course would be to eschew (BOOM!) the lucky bacon fries, the lucky foam crocodiles (that’s very specific to Lesta not my other City) and the booze. BUT dilly ding, dilly dong, as they don’t say round these parts any more; we are in Champions League man. Initially guilt outweighed hedonism. Dinner destination was Zizzi’s on the grounds that it does a pizza under 550 calories, which washed down with a nice fizzy water would leave TLF within calorie limits and loitering on the moral high ground.

Except, the Zizzi menu does make a big thing about their very fine Argentinean Malbec. Faced with this kind of pressure, combined with the pre-match nerves I turned for support to Mummy TLF via text. She assured me that alcohol was an essential for all football and theatre related meals. And in turn, I always think it is essential to respect the views of your parents. Two Malbecs and a Stella essential to be precise.

A bit of anaesthetic was probably not a bad idea that night. You all know the story, the best atmosphere in that ground ever, an early home goal, a bit of theatre resulting in a sending off, another goal, a penalty…SAVED!!!!!!!! What you may have missed was TLF’s hand injury where the eight person celebratory bundle for Lesta’s second goal led to someone’s tooth (not sure whose) and a TLF digit coming into close contact, with slightly bloody consequences for the digit……if it hadn’t been for those extra calories I might have fainted.

And faint we nearly did when that final whistle went and we realised that the mess, contradiction and infuriating wonder that is Lesta City were in the quarter finals of the Champions League. It was time to dust off the “it’s a once in a life time experience” excuse and get TLF booked on a flight and into a Madrid hotel without consultation and within 30 minutes of the draw being made.

I predict a riot.

Happy-to-be-there-and-nothing-to-lose Fox

Yep, like a big kid, TLF really did write out that last eight list

“All your teams are sh1t Soph.”

That was Ray’s cheerful assessment of TLF’s footballing fortunes prior to The Mighty Saints home game against Bath (that’s Bath without an ‘r’ remember). I didn’t have the heart to correct the “all” and point out that technically it’s ‘both your teams are sh1t Soph”, because however much I come over all TLF Pedant, the fact remains that both of them currently are…..very, very, very sh1t.

Fortunately there is with football at Clarence Park always a silver lining to the results-shaped cloud and on that particular day it came in the form of the pre-match entertainment, with 90 minutes of sweeping generalisations, putting the world to rights and some high class end to end ranting. TLF mistakenly had a little dalliance with some trivia in the pre-rant warm up. And can I say that just because I remembered the name of the previous Barton that played in the Premier League (Warren) it does not mean my head is full of the aforementioned waste product (see paras 1 and 2 above). But I guess that’s the kind of abuse you get for showboating.

After that no subject was off limits and while there is a temptation to pick a weakened side when no points are at stake there was no second string team in the club house on this occasion; the usual Saintettes line up boosted by the addition of Lisa. There did come a point when we worried we might be turning into our mums or possibly our grans, but we agreed that the musical backdrop to this would be more Prodigy than Max Bygraves and no one was in danger of ordering a house coat just yet…..In short:

The younger generation don’t know they are born.
They are also not always that canny – pleading poverty to your mum about having no money for food doesn’t work when your drink fuelled nights out are posted all over Instagram.
And we’re not surprised you can’t cook if cookery lessons aren’t like they were in our day – we didn’t get where we are today rolling out frozen pastry. We learned the rubbing in method and we were grateful!
And teachers! Well they are far too young these days. They were OLD when we were at school.

It’s a shame we had to stop and watch the game really…we were just warming up – education policy in general was just about to get a good kicking..but no we had to go and watch St Albans get a good kicking.

There was some momentary respite at half time when TLF was put in charge of the shop while our erstwhile multi-tasking shopkeeper and programme editor took a comfort break. I get the impression that TLF was not first choice in the deputy shopkeeper stakes; the look he gave me kind of said, “stand there and don’t touch anything.”

Mind you I was more solid behind that counter than City’s defence. I’d ask for my money back, but ranting of that quality was cheap at half the price.

“It didn’t happen in my day” Fox

Match stats:
St Albans 1 Bath City 4
Attendance:839
Re-fuelling:pre-match sausage roll from Hatch, 1 pkt bacon fries, 3 pints Stella, 1 Carlsberg.
Wasted raffle and goalden goal opportunities: 12
Items sold while on shop duty: Nil

Would you buy a used scarf from this TLF?

“And IIIIIIIIIIIIII will always loooooove youuuuuuuuu,” rings out in a not very melodic fashion around Clarence Park.

It was a cold and spectacularly WET evening for the visit of Welling and Whitney Houston was on trend on the terraces. Pretty much just that line. That could have been a bit dull but in the interests of variety it was interspersed with, “oooh Sammy Sammy”, a heartfelt but once again lyrically limited homage to Sam Merson to the tune of that Wilson Pickett classic, “Sugar Sugar”.

It wasn’t clear what was inspiring this new musical interlude – water on the brain? Or more likely Carlsberg on special offer? The former certainly doesn’t make winter week night football very attractive and comfort levels were further reduced by a certain lack of preparation on the part of TLF, who was armed with a very small brolly that offered minimal protection to its owner and was dwarfed by the rather more practical and companion-friendly beast of an umbrella, wielded by Julie.

Umbrella ownership may keep you dry (well ish) but it does dampen (BOOMBOOM!) your celebrations in response to your team’s goal scoring exploits. Umbrellas are an awkward shape, with spiky bits and they occupy one arm. As a result you can’t indulge in the usual manic celebrations; instead you have to make do with a small jig and a shake of the aforementioned parapluie…Gene Kelly would be turning in his grave at our lack of finesse and movement. You also can’t eat, in a very neat or satisfactory fashion, a bacon cob when holding an umbrella. Fortunately Julie is on hand (see what I did there) and able to oversee two umbrellas so TLF can be briefly undercover and yet hands free thus avoiding loss of any bacon, bread or stray onions.

The other fortunate thing about this damp Tuesday evening in Hertfordshire was that the Mighty Saints put the ball in the net three times, while the opposition could only manage it twice. There is probably a water-related joke in there about leaky defences but I don’t want to push my luck.

By the end of the game my feet are numb, my work trousers have proved to not be ideal winter terrace wear and my rucksack, which cannot fit under the protective umbrella zone, is so wet it will take 24 hours to dry out but I have just seen a first win in seven games. And that’s why a damp Tuesday evening really can be the greatest love of all. I’m not so emotional that I want to dance with somebody (I couldn’t…the brolly would get in the way) but come on, it is only one moment in time….Now what’s that about water on the brain?
Houston Fox

Match Stats
St Albans 3 Welling Utd 2
Attendance: 397
Consumption: 1 bacon cob, 2 bargain priced Carlsbergs
Losing bits of soggy paper shoved in a pocket: 10 raffle, 1 goalden goal

Dateline: 14 January 2017, 14:00
We are heading towards enemy territory
Worse than that, our travelling companions are the enemy.
Tension is in the air and the usually gregarious THS are monosyllabic. It is Hemel v the Mighty Saints and no one wants to contemplate defeat. Or worse, the thought of travelling home in the same car as the victors.

On the plus side it is unlikely that TLF will suffer a repeat of last week’s score line affliction. For not only is the car silent. It is also sober. This local derby is segregated so the Saints fans cannot experience the joys of Hemel hospitality. I had considered an early drink chez TLF Towers or maybe en route (admittedly a very short route) but the words in the pre-match information, ‘Temporary’, ‘Toilet’ and ‘Facilities’ (or two portaloos as I think they really meant) had rather dulled the TLF appetite for liquid refreshment.

This was TLF’s debut at Hemel and as a huge fan of Fantastic Mr Fox (or FMF as true believers know him), I really wanted Hemel to not be owned by a Boggins…but by a Boggis, Roald Dahl’s evil chicken farmer. I do think though that even with astray letter ‘n’, he would fit one of Dahl’s stories; he has the hair, stature and hi-vis jacket for it.

Local derbies are funny things. And Satday was no exception. The start though was all a bit not funny ha-ha, and more, funny WTF? The sobriety element certainly fed into that category; however it was knocked into a non-comedy cocked hat by the utterly NOT funny, NOT big and NOT clever chucking of two flares (smoking variety not pantaloon) onto the pitch in front of our stand as the players walked out onto the pitch. The two tossers (in every sense of the word), when challenged by a steward attempted first some feeble denial and then offered up a poor case for why they shouldn’t be removed from the ground. Neither strategy worked, in part no doubt to the fury of the Saints fans around them who made clear their displeasure at the sequence of events and suggested a speedy exit from the ground would be best all round. I like to think that TLF has a sense of humour and mischief but chucking a flare is dangerous, pointless, gets the club fined and let’s remember we are at a small non-league ground in Hertfordshire not the Turk Telecom Arena.

With that unwelcome distraction out of the way, our attentions turned back to the game, while of course complementing our hosts on the picturesque nature of their ground, the desirability of Hemel as a town to make your home and the intellect of its residents. We were also very generous in provision of advice to Hemel’s drummer as to options for where he or she might like to store their drumsticks. The eagle eyed will have noted last week that WE had a drum, but of course your own drum is of course a different kettle (BOOMBOOM!) of fish. (With thanks to Russell Wallman for that fine pun, which I have snared from an email he sent to me).

To return to an earlier sentence, local derbies are funny things. Particularly when your team scores a 94th minute equaliser. That makes it honours even this season as the reverse fixture in September saw the same score line but with a last minute Hemel equaliser. Déjà vu on the pitch and slightly more bonhomie in the car home.
Sober Fox

Match Stats
Hemel Hempstead 2 St Albans City 2
Attendance: 856
Refreshments: A coffee. Seriously. Oh and 2 Percy Pigs – we know how to party.