Last but by no means least

25 04 2009
Newtown 1 Bangor City 3
Welsh Premier League

It certainly was a lovely day for it. We parked in the middle of a fairground for some reason. What a lovely day it was to eat Chips from Wales’ finest purveyor of fried foods. What a lovely day it was to visit the tomb of renowned social reformer Robert Owen. What a lovely day!

The last league game of the season and no-one was here, well no-one except a gang of teenagers plus Les and Kath. The first half was meh, to use modern parlance. The sun left and the rain came. What a lovely day to forget your jacket it was! Whilst I promenaded leisurely to the motor vehicle  I caught the sound of high-pitched shouting. “Damn!!” said I, “…must be a Newtown goal.” I arrived back to find my guess was correct. It remained like this until half time and it didn’t look like changing much in the second half; our mostly reserve team wasn’t hitting form.

This was not the first of my predictions to turn out wrong and probably not the last either; we were level within a minute of the restart. Limbo scored it, I was assured. My mind was elsewhere but I can’t remember where now. We had a 16 year old, John Owen, up front in the second half and he looked very promising. He expertly left the ball for Macca to score our second then he actually scored our third. By this third goal we were all really enjoying the match, we looked like we could nearly score with nearly every attack. The passing was crisp but the shooting was wayward.

It was all lovely until they came, all of a sudden we were surrounded by the teenagers. They thought we’d come in a taxi, bless ’em. They thought my flag was shit, bless ’em. they thought we lived in caravans, eh? One teenage social commentator contemptuously threw a whole new penny in my direction with some advice; “Buy yourself some nice food.” I’m not one to judge the educational standards of today but what are they teaching our children in schools? What exactly did the donator expect us to buy with a whole new penny, you can’t even get a penny chew for a penny anymore. They must be using textbooks from the 1950s in his school. In fact I overheard him tell his mates he wanted to get home to listen to Dick Barton on the wireless. Mid Wales, it’s Grrrreat!!

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