It was no surprise......

On March 19th 1986 the Palace announced the engagement of Prince Andrew to Sarah Ferguson, daughter of the Prince of Wales' polo manager - the couple, both 26, were married in July of the same year.

Before hooking up with her Prince, Sarah Ferguson had been a very well known socialite with a pretty public CV. Undoubtedly for her, marriage into the Royal family was just going to be fun. But, for the Palace, and at the time it seemed all too obvious, the keys to the Aston Martin were now in the hands of a ‘young tearaway’.

By 1992, the marriage between Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson was faltering. Sarah was with various men including Texan multimillionaire Steve Wyatt, while her husband was away on royal duties. They agreed to separate in January 1992, but by August of the same year, surreptitiously taken photographs of John Bryan, an American financial manager — apparently in the act of sucking on the toes of a topless Sarah in the south of France — were published in the The Daily Mirror.

Ferguson was at Balmoral with the rest of the Royal Family when the story broke. Prince Philip handed her a copy of the paper and quipped, “there but for the grace of God go I.”

Unfortunately for Sarah The Queen was less amused. After splattering The Mirror with her egg coated ‘soldiers’, the Queen’s private secretary was instructed to tell Ferguson that she might feel better if she left immediately for London, effectively banishing her from the royal household.

The only feeble defence both Fergie and John Bryan could muster up was that he hadn’t been sucking her toes, he was simply kissing the instep of her foot.

But, I don’t blame Ferguson for the antics….after all she was only doing what came naturally to her. No, the fault line ran through the heart of the Palace and all the way to the interview panel…..the CV was well known and her personality could never be disguised.

Sarah Ferguson was no surprise…….

When I started writing this blog in 2007 it was based on a love of our Club, the combined emotional power of our fans and the exuberance that took us to the top of the league and almost inevitably, promotion…..writing was easy and at times I guess quite uplifting. The bad times were quite simply dismissed by the optimism that ran through our Club.

And my ‘passing shots’ were reserved for Gordon Brown, RBS, Northern Rock and almost any politician …..

But, I do believe our return to the League has delivered no more than the invasive ‘cancer’ of professionalism. And my current state of mental well-being can be best summed up when I pause for thought….. and then consider how I felt when we were dumped out of the FA Trophy by Ebbsfleet, in context with the feelings that sent shivers through my body at the Don Valley Stadium last Saturday.

We lost to Ebbsfleet….the dream of the Shots walking out at Wembley gone….but the pain was removed almost instantly as my thoughts turned to playing Altrincham at home the following week.

And last Saturday…..I just wanted to get home.

Even my wife, who has never seen a football match, could sum up our on-pitch activity as dismal. But, my own despair is based upon so much more….

Last February I wrote that Kevin Dillon had destroyed our young and innocent team in a matter of months. I remember, at the time, being rounded on by a number of ‘loyal supporters’ who cried ‘foul’. And how right they all were as we successfully secured a place in the end of season play-offs………but was their instant judgement based on no more than fragile evidence?

Did we have fun? Did we enjoy the games? Can we honestly say, ‘we were uplifted by the experience’? Well, perhaps not all of the players were impressed with Dillon as so many left at the end of the season, only to be replaced by the ‘best ever squad’ assembled by the Shots.

Added to which I have been ashamed by our manager’s ranting and raving at the officials and opposition players…..it has been a constant embarrassment……and his post-match public comment? No less than ‘terrific’….

After quite a long break in writing I brought my blog back to ‘celebrate’ fifty years at the Rec…..but recording my 50 best memories only served to reinforce the pain of watching our Club be systematically taken apart by the ‘professional’ approach of our Directors and ‘new’ management team.

The restoration of League football to our town so beautifully lit up the Exeter sky in April 2008, but today I’m left with no more than a happy memory.

Following the return of my blog earlier this season I have tried to write optimistically about the club that has been such an important part of my life for so long. And I have never considered travelling 12000 miles every season since our return to a national league to be an effort….an expense…..madness…..work inhibiting. No, it has always been just something that I have done.

However, as I sat in the desolate bowl of the Don Valley Stadium, last Saturday, and watched the sun disappear behind the grim urban form of Sheffield, I saw for the first time the meaning of my wife’s incessant background noise. ‘It’s a waste of time watching a bunch of overpaid mummy’s boys…..we can buy more horses with the thousands you could save…..why not change your car every three years and not 12 months……let’s go on holiday…..you can spend more time with me’.


Such female logic has been ignored up until now.

When the fixtures were released for this season I thought that Morecambe away, just after Christmas, would satisfy my need for an ‘extreme’ trip. Perhaps an overnight stay at the, once wonderful but still evocative, Midland Hotel. But will I be going?

No.

And Gillingham at home on Boxing Day?

No….Exmoor beckons and the next day I will be going with some friends to watch Barnstaple Town v Ifracombe Town in the Western League.

And then Barnet….no, as I still have the Ruiz Ruiz chants ringing in my ears….and Hereford?

Possibly…but then for the Club it matters not financially….as I own two season tickets….and I drink in a local pub following the club’s move to corporate dining some years ago.

But it may just matter next season if I decide to invest my money in Barnstaple Town and not the Severn Bridge Toll, fuel, tyres, servicing, depreciation etc etc…..oh yes, and my season tickets in the North Stand.

I was in Wrexham yesterday and as I drove back south later in the evening my mind turned to thoughts of how I would feel the day ‘Dillon’s departure was announced’…..I mused; perhaps as I do when I watch the sun rise over the snowfields of the Brecon Beacons or the sun setting over Camargue, or the exhilaration that coursed through my body as the final whistle went with the score - Exeter City 1 v 1 Aldershot Town (back to the League).

Then Edgar Street, Hereford came into view…..the skeletal away stand – cold and inhospitable…..a shroud of dereliction hanging over the ground…..just waiting for the announcement that, ‘Hereford United was today relegated from the Football League’…..












And with a sad feeling of realism I take no pleasure in sharing my despair with our Club.

But, I don’t blame Dillon for our current plight….after all he is only doing what comes naturally to him. No, the fault line runs through the heart of the Rec and all the way to our Board Directors....the CV was well known and his personality could never be disguised.

Kevin Dillon was no surprise........