Sardines for breakfast, a train full of Blades, and your daughter’s first away game… it’s Newport away!
Tales from Wales
Welcome to Tuesday’s edition of The Scarf My Father Wore, as we bring you three tales from our victorious trip to Wales on Saturday.
Today’s edition is sponsored by Bask, which is the place to be for all of the big games at this year’s World Cup, which kicks off on Sunday. Thanks to Benji and all the team at Bask for their continued support.
If there’s any Newport fans joining us today, please subscribe for free by clicking on the button below. We’ll have at least three or four in-depth articles covering your trip to Stockport on Easter Monday, and there’s lots of decent football stuff we regularly publish, such as interviews, book extracts and (hopefully) amusing groundhopping adventures from across the UK.
Des Junior
🎶 “We go to all the away matches, by bus, by train, by car. And we get so pissed before the game, we don’t know where we are.” 🎶
A lyric from a classic County song gave Des Junior a little bit of inspiration for this regular feature - why have one away day review when you can have three! So for every single away game County play (well, unless it’s like Plymouth on a Tuesday night), The Scarf My Father Wore will be sending three intrepid reporters out into the unknown to share their tales from motorways and train stations across the country.
John Bilsbury enjoyed his usual sardines for breakfast at home (although we so wish he’d cracked them open on the coach to get the reaction of the regular travellers) before jumping on the Fingerpost Flyer for the long journey south.
Up: As the Flyer was due away from the Fingerpost at 8.30am, I set my alarm for 4am so I had time to walk the dog, have a shower, catch up with TV I’d recorded and take in a spot of breakfast.
Breakfast: My usual tin of sardines (high in Omega-3) and a pack of oatcakes (low glycaemic index). If that sounds very worthy, I should point out that I like sardines and oatcakes.
Before: Having completed my morning ritual, I woke Janice as she’d heroically promised to give me a lift to the Fingerpost.
Clobber: I did what I usually do, i.e. throw on the first six black items I find in the wardrobe followed by a blue County hoodie, a denim jacket and by my black ‘Corbyn’ flat cap.
Outbound: After Janice dropped me off on Lowndes Lane, I joined the queue and chatted to the usual suspects until the coach arrived. The coach wasn’t full, so I managed to get a pair of seats to myself and set my stall out. I passed the time by listening to Geordie Hatter’s Away Day Show, reading, dozing and, towards the end, watching Citeh v Brentford on my phone.
Now I’m possibly being a bit controversial here, but when I drive anywhere unfamiliar, I do a bit of research. You know the sort of thing - where am I going, where shall I park etc. That seems to be anathema to the modern coach driver; more often than not we get somewhere near the ground then end up driving round in circles until someone in a yellow vest takes pity on us and tells us where to park. It was no different this time. We drove right past the away fans’ entrance, a ginnel on Corporation Road, then worked our way through tiny streets barely wide enough for the coach until we arrived at the other side of the ground where the home fans go in. It turned out there was no coach parking there at all, so we had to turn round and thread our way back the way we’d come. After getting snarled up in horrendous traffic, we ended up on the other side of the River Usk where we discovered a layby containing the team bus, so we parked there. Although at first it looked as though we faced a route march from the coach to the ground, we were pretty close to the Newport City Footbridge, a dramatic-looking affair in the shape of a massive ship’s derrick, which was opened in 2006. Even at my snail’s pace, it was only a 10-minute walk across the bridge to the ground.
Pre-match: We arrived with nearly two hours to spare, and as the turnstiles weren’t due to open until 2pm, I joined a small group of County fans including Peter Tindall, his son Luke, Joe Holland, Gary and Louie, who were sat outside a coffee shop just the other side of the bridge.
Destination: The main road between the outskirts and Rodney Parade was extremely shabby: loads of abandoned shops, litter-strewn streets and pubs that looked to be boarded-up and open all at the same time. The very centre of town where we parked the coach was much smarter, lots of new civic buildings and the City Bridge dominating the scene.
Visitors: I sat in the Bisley Stand and found it comfortable enough. The roof would have been handy if the weather had been poor. Most of our fans were in the South Stand which is open to the elements and the seats are built up from steel pre-fab sections. The stewards I met were amiable and helpful; despite having a specific seat number on my ticket I was told to sit wherever I fancied.
The ground itself, shared with the local egg chasers, was a bit odd. The playing surface was surprisingly good despite the painted-out rugby markings but some sections of the stadium were shabby and contrasted with the high-tech electronic advertising boards. The boards did more to light up the pitch than the poor quality floodlights did.
Us: A decent turnout and provided quality verbal support. Harry Bruckshaw kept the fans at it with the drum. Some of the fans sat near me sneered at the taking of the knee and didn’t like me applauding it. They also think Kyle Wootton is a waste of time because he doesn’t score every game, which makes the mind boggle, but it takes all sorts I suppose.
Them: They were pretty quiet until they scored and went quiet again after we equalised.
First: We had a playing of ‘The Last Post’ and a well-observed minute’s silence before kick-off. Newport’s dog mascot did its best to look solemn while all this was going on but I always think the inclusion of mascots in these tributes looks ridiculous. Once the game got underway I watched us dominate with some excellent approach work but Newport’s goal on the stroke of half-time was largely self-inflicted and very frustrating.
Half: Nipped below to use the toilets, stared at my phone and sent updates to friends and family at home.
Second: Enjoyed watching us dominate again and get the two goals our approach play deserved. Macca had their full-back on toast and was brought down twice when they realised they couldn’t live with him.
Post-match: As soon as the whistle went I set off for the coach as it was a fair walk and, as one of County’s walking stick fusiliers, I’m not as rapid as I used to be. As it happens, I was first on board.
Inbound: The return journey always flies by when you’ve got three points on board and I occupied myself by watching Newcastle v Chelsea and Wolves v Arsenal on my phone. Janice collected me from the coach and we called at Heaviley Tandoori for one of their humongous special mixed kebabs.
After: Shared the kebab with Janice and Flori the dog. Watched a bit of television until tiredness o’ertook me.
Bed: Around 11pm.
Coach: £35
Ticket: £18
Sandwiches and drinks for the coach: £10
Coffee in Newport: £3.50
Kebab: £10.80
TOTAL: £77.30
Away Day Rating: A good 8/10, a couple of points knocked off for the misguided coach tour of Newport on the way in.
The Stockport Sippers Society, who meet at The Armoury before every home game, travel to the vast majority of aways. But Saturday saw them dotted about all over the place, from a pub crawl in Macclesfield, to a Chester home game, to the rugby at The Emirates Stadium. However, the leader of the gang, Stuart MacKinlay, was determined to represent the Sippers in south Wales and booked himself on the 9.39am train from Stockport station.
Up: 8am.
Breakfast: Just a coffee.
Before: Made a sandwich and bought some crisps and an Irn-Bru.
Clobber: Black County hat, jeans, black jacket with a poppy and a County badge.
Outbound: Nightmare journey. Train was packed with Sheffield United fans going to Cardiff, Barnsley fans going to Shrewsbury and Wales fans for the rugby. Only two carriages - Transport for Wales are a disgrace.
Pre-match: Met a fellow County fan who travels home and away from Oxford in The Tiny Rebel pub, which was excellent.
Destination: Newport’s OK. Great river, decent transport bridge, nice people.
Visitors: Away end was alright, but we were split in two, some behind the goal and some on the side.
Us: Brilliant. Kept singing all the way through.
Them: Poor.
First: Spoke to several County fans. Took a few pictures.
Half: Pie and tea.
Second: Watched County step it up and was very happy that we came from behind to win.
Post-match: I was going to stay till 7pm but caught the train back at 5.30pm.
Inbound: Tired, but at least there were plenty of seats.
After: Watched Match of the Day and a couple of YouTube vlogs about County. Checked my phone to see what the Sippers were up to.
Bed: About 1am, to be up early for Remembrance Sunday at the war memorial.
Train: Managed it for £38 with split tickets and my senior railcard.
Ticket: £18
Food & Drink: £30
TOTAL: £86 (plus a T-shirt I bought for my wife Josie from The Tiny Rebel)
Away Day Rating: 7.5 - It’s always great going to County but it’s not the same without the Sippers and the craic. However, many of the County faithful looked after me.
To be pedantic, the County song at the top mentions a car and not a campervan. But we’re not exactly going to use that as a reason to exclude 7-year-old Charlotte Monaghan’s first ever County away game (written by her dad John) are we…
Up: I woke up full of beans at 7am, that said I was last of the three of us to wake. The missus, who is really a Forest fan but a regular at County, was already downstairs cooking up a full English. Charlotte my 7-year-old was watching Barbie on her tablet, but still in bed. I launched myself into the bathroom with all the excitement I had as a teenager getting ready for an away day. But a fat old git looked back at me from the mirror and I remembered I’m a black pudding addict with a serious Gaviscon habit.
Breakfast: A proper full English, none of that hash brown nonsense. I made the sensible decision to put on a manky T-shirt for breakfast and travel, knowing I would spill beans on it. We wouldn’t want stains on the ‘Argentina’ away shirt.
Before: Nothing, there was no time. I had the idea of this trip while drunk in a Greek village taverna on Halloween. I was wearing my scary clown mask, sitting with my two witches. Of course Greeks don’t really do Halloween so we looked like a proper bunch of loons.
Clobber: I have never at any point in my life been in fashion so it was my Samba trainers, County jogging bottoms, manky T-shirt and just before walking to the ground, the County shirt. I placed a poppy on there too.
Outbound: Very smooth, no traffic problems at all. Three pee stops - if it’s not me needing one it’s Charlotte. We have an electric car with 200 miles range, so that was no good. We travelled in our very thirsty V6 campervan. Of course I forgot to put the Porta Potti in there so there were some urgent jogs across car parks. I finished my Gaviscon supply at the first stop and had to get some more at the second.
Pre-match: I almost put the van in Kingsway Car Park but noticed it had 2.2m headroom at the last moment. Locals were not happy when I reversed back into the traffic, but the international sign of the finger seemed effective. I then took it to Maindee Car Park which had no height restrictions. Charlotte sniffed a donut shop over the road and I promised her one if we won. It’s her first ever away day after all.
Destination: Sad. My father-in-law told me he sailed in merchant ships from there as a young fella when it was a thriving town. It reminds me of some parts of South Yorkshire where I live and industry has died.
Visitors: Coppers and security staff were friendly. The hot dogs very impressive. I sniffed the beer at Rodney’s Bar, but didn’t have any as I knew I was driving to the hotel after the match. Viewing seemed OK at first, but the clouds moved on and we were then blinded by the low sun. The 10-yard space behind each goal due to rugby use made it awkward to judge distance at the far end.
Us: Most singers were behind the goal and made a good racket for most of the game. Lots of old people and kids around us. The fat old guy who refuses to stand up to let us past in the Cheadle End every week sat on the end of our row.
Them: Bunch of kids nearby gave it the big ‘un when they scored, but were quiet later. Some on the far side made a bit of noise.
First: I found it quite frustrating. Their defence was weak, and wobbled whenever we went into the box, but we seemed shot shy. We used the left a lot but didn’t often get down to the line, instead cutting inside. I was sure we could score if we would stop trying to walk it in, but instead we conceded a soft goal. A dribble past about four non-challenges before the ball bobbled across the six-yard box and then was tapped in. Charlotte, whose attention was drifting, didn’t notice.
Half: I stood shaking my head for a while and sent the missus for another hot dog.
Second: Second half was much more like it. We could have scored a couple more, but we left gaps at the back and a better side would have scored again. Charlotte was happy her hero Paddy Madden scored. For a little while she thought it was 2-0.
Post-match: We had a quick march back to Maindee Car Park. Charlotte got a treat from the donut shop, I had some more Gaviscon, and we drove to Ross-on-Wye for an overnight stay in one of those hotels which guarantees a good night’s sleep. I had a gallon of Guinness and a very nice T-bone steak at the Beefeater, followed by a terrible night’s sleep. I mentioned it to the lady on reception but as it was Charlotte’s keeping me awake there was no recompense. Breakfast was good and there was plenty of black pudding.
Inbound: Smooth, again not much traffic, the usual pee stops. The sound of Barbie was driving me nuts so Charlotte kindly played a game, no idea what it was but I had a constant “bee-boo, bee-boo, ding dong, ding dong” in my ears from Worcestershire to Doncaster.
After: A curry and a movie.
Bed: I’m still typing this at 11pm so not sure.
The missus does the money stuff, I’m more of an ideas man. She told me the gallon of Guinness cost £56.40; I didn’t want to hear any more.
Away Day Rating: It was Charlotte’s first one so she’ll give it a 10. I’d give it an 8, though seeing her smile when Paddy scored and hearing her screaming “Come on County” in the last few minutes makes it a 10 for me too.
So there you have it folks, three tales from Newport away, and it’s a victory for… THE CAR! (Well, campervan, to be precise.)
If you’re going to Charlton in the FA Cup next week and you’d like to share your tales from a trip to the capital, drop us a message.
Book a table at Bask for England’s World Cup games
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Stockport photo of the day
A6, Stockport
I’m probably the only person in Stockport who would take a photo of this, but I love it. I haven’t got a clue about art so I don’t know what style this would be classed as, but to me it’s like a painting with so many questions. Who left this here? I’m presuming it’s a pizza slice from the Greggs in Mersey Square but why did they only take one or two bites? And why did they choose to leave it in this specific place, rather than chucking it in the bin or on the floor?
Who do you think left this pizza here? Leave a comment by clicking on the button below.
The only Christmas gift guide you need this year
40 sleeps to go! The Scarf My Father Wore have curated a beautiful Christmas gift guide this year, from independent businesses across the UK. Check the guide each day, with new items constantly added, before our festive giveaway starts on 1 December!
Today in SK
❓ It’s quiz night at Doctor Feelgood on the market. Starts at 8pm with at least £50 cash for the winners. £2 entry.
Well what a great set of Awayday reports! Tremendous to get that flavour of the day, and very pleased to learn that the Awayday Show can combine so well with a breakfast of sardines. Maybe I should get my own sponsorship link-up, with the John West Corporation!