Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Having to work on Sunday means the weekend has moved forward a day.

So far I've travelled halfway across Britain, to take in the second ever bus replacement rail service, to Scotland's highest village and pub, panned for gold, then spent 90 minutes on the hottest coach on record, to watch a team take a 6-0 lead in the first 15 minutes of a pre-season friendly.



Definitely rugby tomorrow.

[KingsburySaint]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Wanlockhead? I'm guttered and in Irvine. I could be there in about 3 hours.

[KingsburySaint]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Go on ahead I'll only hold you back. I await a report on Irvine Vics.

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

It was Creetown v Dalbeattie Star.

I'm now at the Tam o' Shanter in Dumfries, trying to clear the whole Sulwarth/Broughton range.

You say say guttered, I say cunted, let's call this whole thing ON.

[KingsburySaint]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

It was Broughton what did for me.

Creetown is a great part of the world. If your in Kirkcudbright for a St Cuthbert Wanderers game, you must go to the Stewartry Museum. Exactly what a museum should be - full of disparate clutter.

[Mr Cogito]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

KingsburySaint wrote: It was Broughton what did for me.

Creetown is a great part of the world. If your in Kirkcudbright for a St Cuthbert Wanderers game, you must go to the Stewartry Museum. Exactly what a museum should be - full of disparate clutter.

Why I like OTF!

[jameswba]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Zilina vs Bielsko Biala, a Slovakia-Poland cross-border friendly today. Zilina are doing free ground tours ahead of the game.

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Back to blighty and Ilkeston v Forest U21s

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Followed by Derby City v Boston Bucaneers

[The-Reverend]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Ahhh Ilkeston.

Interested to see what landmarks you've picked out BB&F, hoping you've seen the Stanton Wagon paying tribute to the old Ironworks, on the Tesco roundabout.

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

The saloon bar at the Dewdrop and an hour long stomp down the canal trying to find the fucking rugby club have been the sole points of attention so far.

Sorry, but i am waiting for the station to be finally finished before giving it a proper revisit (my first was for the old manor ground).

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Creetown v Dalbeattie Star

I originally had football and rugby sorted for Saturday, and cricket for Sunday, however, a requirement to work Sunday with Friday off in lieu, threw up a few possibilities, which of course required a full day at work planning.

The new trams at Blackpool (which actually sounds like a click bait list of great 80s gigs) and then Fylde v Stranrear was an option, but then this intrigued me. Checking out the fixture list, there was also a game on that evening at Creetown. So simple.

It was only when trying to plan the day that I realised how vast the area was, made more complicated by places not being where I thought they were, and all public transport connections missing by a minute. Anyway, eventually a plan was formulated and off I went.

First move of the day was the 0636 off Sowerby to Preston. I arrived at the former just to see the doors closing but a mad scramble to the guards door saw me on it but no starting photo, so here it is 41 miles later on arrival at Preston.

Onward from there was the 0758 to Glasgow. This is a Transpennine service, which despite having just electrified the line from Manchester, is operated by a diesel train. The Virgin service from Birmingham to Edinburgh, despite being wholly under the wires, is also a diesel.

We headed along through Lancaster, Penrith and Carlisle, into Scotland. North of Locherbie, the railway climbs up over Beatock Summit and then follows an innocuous river which I'd never bothered finding out the name of. I'd always been intrigued by this stretch of line and on seeing a bus, took a few shots of some landmarks to plan a future trip.



My destination was Lanark, 30 miles south of Glasgow. However, as my train didn't stop at Carstairs or Motherwell, I had to go all the way into Central station. 192 miles.

My train back to Lanark was strangely formed of a London Midland EMU, which normally operates between Euston and Northampton. My connection onto a bus at Lanark was one minute, with the next one three hours later, so I was reliant on some punctual operating by Scotrail. Predictably it left three minutes late.

We retraced our steps to the junction where the Lanark branch leaves the main line, passing it 90 minutes after I had gone flying through it on the way into Glasgow. We had regained a minute arriving into Lanark, but were still 2 down arriving. The bus station is adjacent to the railway equivalent, and was fully expecting to see the back of the bus or an empty stand. However, the bus was still there and the reason was clear, the driver was being talked to death by a pensioner. A mad dash through a side gate saw me get to the bus with a -3 connection. For once, the omnipresent OAP rambling to a too-polite-to-move-on rural bus driver, had worked in my favour. Which was doubly good as Lanark is shit. Oh, another 30 miles to add to the train total.

Having paid my £2.50 for a 70 minute journey, I joined the throngs on the bus, all three of them. Coming out Lanark, the lower reaches of the Clyde is crossed.

Initially, the journey is through lowland farming areas…..

……where we seemed to encounter every milk tanker in southeast Scotland.

It was only now that I started to plot the route of the bus. The reason I was doing this service was because at the very southern tip of the route, the road was being repaired for the last mile between Leadhills and Warlockhead. However, between these two points runs a preserved narrow gauge railway, so they are operating a bus replacement service this week. I wanted to take in the full value of this unique occasion by using the bus part as well. However, studying the route, firstly I couldn't work out why on earth the service operated in the first place, as it goes from a tiny place, through other tiny places, to somewhere quite remote when Lockerbie or at a push, Carstairs would seem more logical. Then there was the route, which was as indirect as it could possibly be. I was alerted to this as we passed over the West Coast Main Line just as the 0830 Euston - Glasgow passed underneath, and about 2.5 hours after I had been underneath it.

As we continued to follow the railway and the river, a degree of familiarity overcame, as I realised we were on the exact road that I had been taking pictures of from the train as one I would like to visit. This is the reverse of picture 4.

We carried on, with the other question answered, as to which river it was, it being the start of the Clyde.

Hillsides who's trees look like those stupid Peaky Blinder haircuts that seemed to plague the Euros.

If these pictures are making Sam is get whistful for old Blighty, here is one to prove we can still fuck it up. Where better to stick a massive new electricity substation than slap bang in the middle of previously unspoilt moorland.

By now we were quite late, which wasn't helped by the driver stopping for a five-minute chat about foot and mouth with a couple of regulars.

As we were late the driver decided he wasn't going to go to the station, and instead dropped everyone (ie me) in the village, which meant I was in danger of missing the train, who's sole purpose was to connect into the bus. (42 miles of bus travel)

However, a stomp up the hillside....

.....found a bleak looking station with the train still waiting.

A quick purchase of the £1 single and we were off.

Until now, I hadn't realised how high up we were. The dwelling adjacent to the station declared itself as Scotland's highest house. The railway itself was boasting this. Adhesion means it doesn't use a rack system or is a furnicular, otherwise, I would expect Cairngorm and Snowdon railways are higher.

As we trundled along, there was a lot of construction activity along the road. The only previous bus replacement train I had been on was when the bridges around Workington had collapsed in the floods a few years back, and a loco hauled shuttle service was operating from Maryport, which was just full of trainspotters.

This area was based on lead mining. Deposits had been discovered 400 years ago and small scale extraction had taken place. However the mining boom of the 19th century led to a huge increase in production. This led to the railway being built as previously the only way out was by pack horse. The drop in the use of lead in the 1930s resulted in the price crashing, and despite a small revival in the 1950s, the mines all closed.

Shortly, we reached the end of the line (1 mile). This is rather an abrupt stop in a cutting.

The reason for this is that the line onwards is owned by a Tennant farmer who didn't want his sheep disturbed by trains, so wouldn't allow it to be extended into Wanlockhead proper. However, he has now retired and his sons have no interest in farming so there is hope the line can now be completed.

So carrying on by foot, following the other passenger, who was genuinely replacee, using the line to access her place of work from her home in Leadhills. Unfortunately the track bed was sodden.

Into Wanlockhead, which was declaring itself as the highest village in Scotland. Make your own heroin/buckfast joke.

I had an hour before my bus onwards, and was torn between visiting here....

....or here.

After a while watching sheep eating sand out of a grit bin...

....I headed to the adjoining attractions, but was won over by the Inn being Scotland's highest pub.

Inside and whilst enjoying a Strathaven - Drookit Rabbit, I mentioned to the barman about it being the highest pub, at which point he made the joke about a 'Maryhill cocktail' which apparently is a mixture of methadone and Buckfast. One for Mad Dai to try.

Feeling a twinge of guilt about the lack of education, I drank up and headed for the museum.

The museum was entered through the gift shop and consisted of a display of what lead is used for....

....a mock up of a mine....

....and some rocks.

This took me about 2 minutes to do but I found that the exit was back through the gift shop, straight passed the lady who was still ringing in the three pound I had just given her. I felt guilty about the perfunctory regard I was giving to the exhibition so went round again, which wasted another 2 minutes. Eventually I summoned up the courage and hood up, changed back through the gift shop, passed a collection of second hand books with the Scottish overlord in prime position.

Perusing outside, this attracted my attention. Having seen the various Gold mining shows on Discovery, I am aware that the industry is beset by clueless novices with an unmentioned addiction to narcotics. Fitting half of that criteria I returned to my friend in the gift shop to find out how much gold panning I could do in 20 minutes. The answer was, not a lot.

So I headed off to the bus shelter, but not just any bus shelter.....

.....one immortalised in a Sci-Fi film with Scarlet Johanson. Imagine how many 20 somethings in black t shirts have interrupted an on-line game of Dungeons and Dragons to knock one out over a freeze frame of this image.

Bang on time, my bus arrived. I had another five hours of bus travel ahead of me, all on Stagecoach, which the driver informed me could all be done on a £7.20 explorer ticket. Bargain.

The route out of the village was down a very deep, winding gorge. An extremely picturesque journey.

I was heading for Sanquror, but pulling on to the main road, the driver informed me the previous bus to Dumfries was running late so I made a minus 10 connection onto it in a lay by in the middle of no-where.

I was intending to stop off at Thornhill for the guide pub there, but the description was 'Popular with hunters and anglers, one real ale on, usually Speckled Hen'. As this was a worse offering than Yates, I continued into Dumfries, 32 miles of bus travel.

Dumfries describes itself as 'The Queen of the South'. My view of the queen is that she is probably the least unacceptable pick of a pretty rum bunch, so it is probably a fair description of the town.

With an hour to kill before I could book into my B&B, I had a wander around the town, taking in some of the five GBGs in the town. Firstly the riverside New Bazaar for a Belhaven (ie, what Greene King badge themselves as in Scotland), but then remarkably, a very rare Old Mill - Yorkshire Pearl, which I have never seen round my adopted parts, so god knows how it got up here.

Next was the 'how on earth did that get in' Coach and Horses, which only had Bass on, so I was forced to have a Tennants.

Finally, the Robert the Bruce, for a Chelsea - Alpha 5. Normally I don't do Weatherspoon’s but I was desperate for a shit and to be fair to them, although their beer all tastes the same, their bogs are usually clean.

Nature got its own back next as a pigeon shat on my ear, the debris splattering all over my Ipad.

After checking into my very nice B&B, I headed to the railway station, which was the departure point for my next bus. This turned out to be a coach, which had been sat in the baking sun, and the driver refused to turn on the air con, so was like an inferno.

The end destination was Stranrear. This used to be a busy through bus but since the ferry port moved to Cairnryan, it is now only commuters, shoppers and day trippers returning from Dumfries.

The bus passes through very sparse population, save for the major conurbation of Castle Douglas, and the wonderfully named Gatehouse of Fleet.

The road has been considerably upgraded, as it is still heavily used by or rise heading for the port. Part of this means it has been routed right along the shoreline of Wigtown bay, looking across to Whithorn head, and further on to the Isle of Man.

After a sweltering 42 miles on the road, I spied the ground.

As I had half an hour to go, I carried on into the village of Creetown itself.

After doing the village on both sides of the road, I now only had 28 minutes to kill. The only thing of interest was this place.

It was most noticeable for the hundred year apart before and after pictures, being only different by the appearance of a Vauxhall Astra in one of them.



Heading on to the ground, I did at least find a shop, in this hithero Unknown chain of petrol station, where supplies were procured for later.

Arriving back at the ground, it rather mysteriously went under the Guise of Castle Cary Holiday Park.

Sure enough, there was the opportunity for that ultimate vacation, camping in the car park of a non-league football ground.

Strangely, despite it being July and school holidays, only two caravans, a motor home and four boats had taken up this opportunity.


Creetown 1 v Dalbeattie Star 6, pre-season friendly

Creetown have been in existence 1895, though with various names, most notably Creetown Rifle Volunteers. They play in the South of Scotland league, aka the arse end of nowhere league. They recently moved to this new ground.

Dalbeattie Star reformed in the 1970s, after a previous club disbanded in the early part of the century. They played in the South of Scotland league, until promotion to the lowland league three seasons ago.

The ground itself is incredibly scenic. At one end is the shoreline of Wigtown bay.

Whilst behind the other is Knockeans hill.

Facilities could be described as basic but are actually quite good for this level. A large log cabin housed the changing room, tea-hut social club and also the camping amenities.

In front of this was a pitch railing with hard standing. A decent sized crowd had turned out for the game. In the background are the mountains around Newton Stewart mountains that separate Dumfries from Ayrshire.

The dug outs were on the far touch line and were of an unusual style.

The higher standard of the visitors was evident as they soon raced into a 0-4 lead.

However, their main tactic was to bore everyone to death by just passing the ball along the defence, before hoofing it upfield. In Berkshire, this is known as 'Tommy Burns football' (see also, making a load of youth team players at other clubs join an agency that you are part owner of, then sign them for the team you manage at a vastly inflated fee). My suggestion for a rule change this season, would be that for every ten passes between central defenders, when there are no opposition in the half, sees the other team awarded a goal. Either that or all pitches should be quagmires and all forwards small and nippy, so the defenders look like complete cocks when the ball stops halfway to their team mate.

By now it was time for food, and the dinner of kings was had as Dalbeattie knocked in a couple more.

From the side, the dugouts looked more like portaloos, and seemed to host the trainers from the 1973 cup final.

The port road was immediately behind the goal, and gave a great opportunity for some lorry spotting.

Behind each goal was large patch of stinging nettles…

…..which brought deep joy to the keepers as they went to retrieve wayward shots. After a while, the away keeper was diving full length to save shots that we're going 20 foot wide.

My bus back was the last one of the day, and this was no place to be left stranded, so I headed off before the end of the game, to make sure I didn't miss it. Sure enough, five minutes early, the bus arrived, with its three occupants.

We headed back, with the game in progress.....

.....and the sun setting over the Rhins peninsula.

With another 42 miles of bus travel under my belt, we were back in Dumfries. I headed off to clear the other two guide pubs but the Caven Arms was no-where near where it was shown on the map, however, the Tam O' Shanter more than sufficed with a good range of Broughton IPAs and the local Sulwath of Castle Douglas.


Training beats Coaching Times.

[imp]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Is there still an anarchist collective in Leadhills? I've got a picture of it somewhere - a white cottage with slogans of liberty carefully painted in small letters. That was in 1983, mind, so it may have disbanded by now.

[Paul S]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

I stayed at the Wanlockhead Inn when I did the Southern Upland Way a few years ago. They have a wooden wig-wam outside the pub which costs £10 for the night and came with a heater and TV. The food was good as well.

I also took the coach from Stranraer back to Dumfries. Dumfries and Galloway is a very sparsely populated area and you only realise this when you sit on the coach and see how few towns and villages there are. If you want to go somewhere time forgot, try St John's Town of Dalry. Very isolated with the only 24 hour petrol station in the area.

[Sundeporino]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

I lived in Lanark for 6 months or so when working up that way in the early 90s. The job had me driving from Grangemouth down to Dumfries and all points in between. Beautiful country but the weathers awful. Far too unpredictable.
I changed caravan sites when I heard the tale of the two escapees from the high security prison.

[torres]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

BB&F. Wouldn't it have been easier to change at Carlisle to reach Dumfries instead of heading up as far as Glasgow?

Around the station at Lanark is particularly shit,but the rest of the town is quite nice. If time was on your side there you could have nipped into Moor Park home of Lanark United, it's a very nice junior ground five minutes from the station.

[jameswba]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

The A75 between Dumfries and Annan is known as the 'Ghost Road' : https://modern.scot/ghosts-of-kinmount-straight/

I first read about it after staying in Dumfries and going to Annan vs Morton 3 years ago. The Caven Arms in Dumfries is a superb pub.

In Slovakia, Zilina 3 Bialsko Biala 0 in yesterday's friendly. Preceded by my first ever experience of a stadium tour.

[Big Boobs and FIRE!]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Ilkeston v Nottingham Forest U21s, pre-season friendly.

Derby City v Boston Buccaneers, Rugby League Midland Conference.

Next morning, it was another early start, heading down to the railway station....

....for the 0618 Newcastle service. The station is extremely picturesque and well kept..

....but don't just take my word for it. As an aside, the equivalent winner in Ireland that year was Rosslare Europort, so it maybe doesn't prove much.

There were three other passengers, a girl going through to Newcastle and a shifty teenage couple who were doing everything they could to dodge the guard. They got off at the first station, now I wonder.......

Moving south, the Solway was very misty, giving no opportunity to see yesterday's coastal jaunt.

Onward for the 33 miles down to Carlisle....

...for the 0734 TransPennine service, this time formed of an eight car electric train.

Up and over Shap, which was equally damp.

121 miles later, and in to the 1960s architectural experiment of Manchester Oxford Road.

From here, it was a two car East Midlands unit, through a wet Hope Valley for the 55 miles to Chesterfield.

They have extended the platforms at the station so you now get a good view of the crooked spire.

As the unit carried on to Norwich, I joined a St Pancras bound service. As this was being worked by an EMT meridian unit, it meant for the first time in 475 miles, there was First Class, all 24 miles of it.

Soon we were into Derby and a hasty walk to the bus station.

There seems to be some sort of bus wars going on in Derbyshire, with three operators running identical routes to Ilkeston. There was therefore immediately a bus on the stand, which gave me a choice of operators. One of my current pet hates is Bus Operators are giving the routes names of juice bars rather than numbers. How the fuck does Indigo Study, Vitality or Lime Green assist in working out which bus to get. Therefore I chose to forsake the Trent Barton ‘Black Cat’, and went for a Your Bus ‘Y3’ instead.

Within minutes it was whisking us along Brian Clough Way, as the A52 is now known.

Ilkeston is a bit of an unknown to me. My dad is from Derby so growing up, there were lots of visits to Allestree. I'd always see signs to Ilkeston and Mickleover but both are still a mystery to me. I'd visited once before, as a fifteen year old in 1991, with a Heart of England rail rover. It was one of the last few games at the Old Manor ground, but I can only remember the stagger up from Spondon on a Derby Corporation Leyland Leopard, and the bizarre layout of the ground. Passing through the town, I said my farewell to the bus after 11 miles to add to the total.

Today wasn't going to shed much of a light on the town, as my itinerary was to take the bus through the centre to the new ground, which is situated in the north east fringes. Cresting the canal, the ground was spotted, as a bloke tried to jump start a 1970s Bedford camper van.

Today's game was against Nottingham Forest Under 21s. They were meant to play the full team on Wednesday, but the new manager has taken them to a training camp instead. No idea who this is. If it is the championship, it is probably Uwe Rossler or Steve Evans. Please don't feel the need to follow up with a correction, I really don't care.

I was really only attending the game as I was going to the rugby and a bloke I work with asked if I could pop along and get some programmes as he deals in them, and reckons Forest U21s go for £20 a go. However, after paying to get in, I then found out there was no programme, only a team sheet, and even then, surnames only.


Ilkeston 2 v Nottingham Forest U21s 0, pre-season friendly.

Ilkeston has a proud tradition of clubs going bust and then starting up again. The original Town lasted until 1904, when they were replaced by United, who in turn were followed by a new Town club, who lasted until 2010, after a series of chairmen died, went bankrupt, or never had any money in the first place. The current incarnation, just plain Ilkeston, were immediately formed in 2010 to take over. Much of the initial clubs time was spent in the Midland league, before a brief spell in the Southern in the 1970s. Spells in the Northern Counties East and the Central Midlands followed, before regaining Southern League status. The new century saw them moved to the Northern Prem, and then promotion to the Conference North, before an unpaid 40k tax bill saw them wound up and the new club start. They are currently back in the Northern Prem.

Nottingham Forest have famously won more Simod Cups than all London clubs combined. A film was recently released about the club entitled 'I believe in miracles', it tells the story of how Des Little ever became a professional footballer.

The New Manor ground opened in the early 1990s, when the council decided the town centre Manor Ground could find much better use as a tennis club and performing arts centre. Sport for All. It has slowly been built up over time.

Without doubt, the most notable feature is the corner Clock Tower stand. This is a raised cantilever stand, with an ornate clock tower attached on its perpendicular. A modern classic, unless you actually watch the game from here, as your neck will always be at a 45 degree angle. Below are the changing rooms.

Down the same touchline is a low seated stand, guarded furiously by stewards as anyone walking by over three foot tall, blocks any view from the stand.

Opposite is a huge clubhouse complex, which used to host the changing rooms.

Behind one goal is a large terrace....

...which houses the only terrace located vending machine I am aware of in non-league.

Behind the other goal is a structure with perhaps the least architectural merit in non-league, being an absolute flat cantilever over plain tarmac.

There are some interesting quirks around the ground. Firstly, the old club's name, immortalised in tripping hazard.

Secondly, whilst other clubs describe their pitch surrounds as such, Ilkeston have gone for an actual moat. The absence of any pitch invasion at the game, must deem this to be an absolute success. Expect to see more around the grounds.

The Ilkeston shirt as troubling, in that it had a massive white band at the bottom. No doubt this was so players could wear it without tucking it into the white shorts, but it just looks bizarre as a replica offering.

After a few false starts, the first @keepers_towels of the season.

Forest had a Scandinavian giant playing centre back.

He was as clumsy as he was tall, and he gave away the free kick that led to Ilkeston taking the lead.

My plan was to leave at half time in order to get to the rugby for kick off. However, after 30 minutes, the ref blew up as it became apparent the game was being played in thirds. I took the opportunity to fuck off, the canal towpath being my route to the rugby ground on the south of the town. The map showed it as a 50 minute walk, so I should just about make kick off, provided I didn’t get waylaid.

Oh bugger.

There was a GBG on the way, that didn’t sound promising. However, on entering the Dewdrop, I was presented with a free roast pork roll…..

….and this selection of beers. I felt compelled to clear all the required ones with halves, the duds being the Green Devil, the Acorn, and the Dancing Duck. Of interest was the Bevil, which in true Somerset Scrumpy fashion, was just 50/50 of the Bishops Farewell and the Green Devil.

The canal was far from a beautiful stroll through open countryside, starting off amid bypasses and industrial pipelines, however, it smartened up a bit, though still with a decent supply of discarded pallets.

Eventually, some wildlife was encountered. This being a red kite or a dodo or such like.

My refreshment stop had added 30 minutes or so into the journey, but I should still have made the second half. However, arriving at the rugby ground, there was no sign of any game. Checking the map again, it appears Ilkeston had two rugby clubs, and this was the wrong one.

I carried on, hopeful that I might get the last ten minutes at the other ground. Eventually I found the other ground, this being the sports ground of the long defunct Stanton Ironworks. These were part of Stanton and Staveley, which may be familiar as the majority of manhole covers in Britain bear the name. Oh, 4.8 miles of walking.

The complex is now how to Ilkeston Rugby Union club, and also the former works cricket club.

As I approached the pitch, I heard a long blow on the referee’s whistles. I was resigned to having missed the action, but it turned out that as well as turning up late to the wrong ground, I’d also got the kick off time wrong, and it was only half time.


Derby City 34 v Boston Buccaneers 35, Rugby League Midland Conference.

Derby City RL were founded in 1990 and initially played in the East Midlands Championship. When the conference set up was initiated in 1999, they joined the Northern Conference, which in time, has become the Midlands Conference. They have played at various union grounds around the city, and have been at Ilkeston for a couple of years. This season they are at the foot of the table with only one win.

Boston Buccaneers were only formed in 2014, playing in the Midland merit league and then last season in the Midlands Conference, getting to the plate final but losing in the last minute to Sherwood Wolfhunt. Boston get a lot of their players from the various RAF depots around Lincolnshire.

The sports ground was open in the 1930s.

The main feature is the wonderful social club. This is 1930s Art Deco, and was designed by Harry Tatham Sudbury, who was responsible for many buildings and monuments throughout the town.

There was a decent crowd watching, some of it from the adjacent cricket that had been cancelled. However, asking the score caused some consternation, as no two people could agree what it was. They agreed that Derby were winning, but by how many differed wildly.

I therefore headed round to the team benches, where the timekeeper confirmed it was 24-8 Derby, a shock result.

I soon headed off as the floodlight was on the wonk and creaking sinisterly in the wind.

Making my way behind the touchline, showed that the rugby club were also employing the moat principle.

The second half saw equilibrium starting to be regained, as Boston scored five unopposed tries.

However, Derby then scored two, to make it 34-34 with less than ten seconds to go. However, from the re-start a hopeful Boston punt, cleared the posts, to make it 34-35.

Back in the clubhouse, and there were three Mansfield beers on. Unfortunately, these are all keg beers since being taken over by Marstons, and production moved to Wolverhampton. A bonus was being given the unused cricket tea. Stout and Battenberg is a good combo.

I then wandered back into town, 1.8 miles, for a bus back into Derby.

Dropping down into Spondon, and one of the once numerous Trent Valley power stations was visible below.

Back to the bus station (8.3 miles) and just time to drop into the previously mentioned Alexandra Hotel, for a Castle Rocklimited editions; Guns of Navarone, and Baptism of Fire.

However, the highlight was this interesting combination of animal fat by-products.

I was rushing to make the 1744 Cross Country service to Edinburgh, as this is booked and HST on Summer Saturdays. However, due to ‘staff issues’ on the outward run from Scotland this morning, this was actually a Voyager that was terminating at York.

I got to Leeds (73 miles) on time, to transfer onto my unit to Sowerby (21 miles), for an Acorn – Summer Pale at the Jubilee rooms, and a Brentwood – Golden Galaxy at the Turks Head.

Altogether, 591 miles of train travel, 177 miles on buses, and 7 miles of canal towpaths. Perhaps there are closer bus replacement rail operations, mining museums, losing Championship teams, canals, Step 11 pre-season friendlies, step 7 rugby league, and 14 pints. But hey, where’s the fun in that?

Travelling Times

[Gerontophile]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Great stuff, Boobs.

[Walt Flanagans Dog]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

I used to work in Dumfries so that brings back some pub names I'd long forgotten. Used to occasionally go to the Tam O'Shanter for lunch - despite its tiny size they used to find room for a pot of chili or soup, served with bread.

I've no idea what's GBG listed and what isn't but the Globe is another famous old pub in the centre which would have been worth a visit.

And echo the comments about how sparse that region is, I used to have to go to meetings all over D&G and there is a lot of nothing. For stretches of the west of the region, the only radio stations the car radio would pick up were from Northern Ireland.

[Errorist Sympathiser]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Half way through the first piece I realised I wasn't reading for the match report or naything football-related and I'm incredibly okay with that.

Book, please.

[Crusoe]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

I live vicariously through BB&F's posts.

[Toby Gymshorts]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Yet another tour de force by the boy BB&F! - seconded on the book request.

[Crusoe]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

Book or blog or something - I'd love to share it as a website rather than trying to keep a list of the posts.

[The-Reverend]

Role Reversal - Weekend Matchgoing

A book would be utterly magnificent.