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I’m not really a religious man, but I still say thank the gods for football.
Without the game, I doubt my generation and that of our kids would have anything
at all in common.
Me and my dad would often spend time together as we shared pretty much the same
interests, like birds egg collecting (tut tut!), fishing, train-spotting, model
aeroplanes, TV comedy shows, and – of course – football. My kids are more or
less the same as all of the others of their generation, heavily into social
networking, online gaming and puerile music. At least my son likes his
football, and that’s our main connection.
We have managed to drag them to some pretty interesting parts of the world for
holidays, just as my folks did in the days where you found out the best places
to stay by clipping adverts out of the classified sections of newspapers. One
of my favourites destinations as a child was always the Norfolk Broads, mainly
because I could dangle my float out of the houseboat window and pursue my
passion for angling without having to get out of bed. If I ever got bored we
would always nip into Wroxham and spend my holiday money on Airfix kits or
Action man outfits in the toy shop there.
Like everywhere else in Wroxham in the 1960s, the shop was owned by Roy. Never
met the man, but I know he was the boss because his name was spelt out loud and
proud above virtually every business in the town.
Despite my passion for the area, I’ve never really been back much in recent
years, although I have had Wroxham on my radar since the town’s football team
made it to Step 4 a couple of years ago. Two previous attempts to visit
Trafford Park had ended in frustration; the first because I overslept and
missed my booked train, the most recent earlier this year when my poor health
led to a (sensible) decision not to travel.
No such problems today as I’m up on time, feeling good, and ready for a
four-hour journey to Norwich via Nottingham & Peterborough. Wary of the
fact most Norwich pubs traditionally don’t open until Midday, I set off first
to two pubs I know trade earlier, the first of which being The Bell Inn, a
Wetherspoons where I can get some brekky, washed down with an excellent pint of
Black Panther. My walk to the pub takes me down a scruffy part of town called
Rose Lane, my opinion of which takes a sudden turn for the better when I spot a
blue plaque recording that the Beatles once played a gig nearby before queueing
with fans to buy food from a chippie on Rose Lane. Walking in the path of
legends!
After the Bell, it’s a short hop to the Gardeners Arms, known locally as the
Murderers. This multi-level pub has something for everybody, including one of
the best pub sports TV set-ups I’ve encountered. I plump for a Wolf Brewery
‘Granny Wouldn’t like It’, a 4.8% darkish beer which sadly disappoints. A noisy
bunch of students in fancy dress persuades me to eschew a second drink here,
and walk across town to the Ketts Tavern, home of the Norwich Bear Brewery. The
pub is empty save me and the barmaid, who informs me they have four golden ales
and just one that is the right colour for a beer, this being called Legend.
Sadly, it doesn’t live up to its name, tasting very much of home-brew.
So my last watering hole prior to catching the train to Wroxham is the Compleat
Angler, a large corner pub just outside of the station. The beers are not
local, but the Cottage Black Five is a reasonable pint, even if it isn’t
exactly black.
Wroxham’s ground is about a 20-minute walk from the town’s railway station and
right on the edge of the conurbation, down a pathless track, not recommended
for pedestrians in the dark. There’s a modest main stand with seating, and some
roof support pillars to peer round. Behind one goal is a small covered terrace.
The rest is flat standing, with most of the fans preferring to congregate in
the area in front of the clubhouse. The bar, sadly, sells nothing interesting
in the way of beer, and the snack hatch is of equal disappointment to the
vegetarian.
Today’s game is between two sides who are desperate for points, both hovering
as they are at the wrong end of Isthmian Division One North. Visitors Romford
are in slightly the better league position, but both teams manage to serve up a
turgid first half which is shared with a penalty apiece. It picks up
appreciably after the break, with the game far more stretched, Wroxham having
the advantage of possessing two or three players not afraid to pick up the ball
and run directly at the opposing back four. It seems to all be in vain as they
go behind to the visitors, but there’s enough time to level it and snatch a
winner before the end.
This being their first win in seven, the home players and fans are like kids in
a toy shop. Being Wroxham, that shop would have to be Roy’s and – yes – I can
confirm, the centre of the town is still dominated by that name, almost 50
years since I bought my last Airfix kit there. Maybe I should take one home for
my lad. But then again……
There's more on my blog at http://flynn123.wordpress.com/
Whatever boats your float.....
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