Woking 0 v 1 Aldershot Town - Tuesday 6th August 2019

Despite spending all of my teenage years living pretty close to Woking, and having attended the Grammar School for Boys, returning to the 'old town' is never a pleasant experience. The high rise flats, inconsiderate drivers and nose to tail traffic, together with the frantic pace of the area, simply reinforces the correctness of my decision to move from a city life to the calm of Exmoor.

But in the build up to Tuesday night's game, a brief piece of information carried on the Shots website concerning parking for the match, caught my eye....'Meadow Sports on Loop Road will be providing parking for up to 120 vehicles on matchday.....'.

Meadow Sports....Loop Road. Surprisingly the former Grammar School's playingfields were still grass and not lost in the rush to build more houses for people looking to catch the next train to, 'West Byfleet, Byfleet and New Haw, Weybridge, Walton, Hersham, Esher, Surbiton, Wimbledon and all stations to Waterloo (my apparent encyclopaedic knowledge of the stations of the Southern Region the result of too many years waiting for the 55b bus to depart).

Yes, my mind was encouraged by the advice to drift back to September 1964 and my first day at the Grammar School.

After fighting off the many attempts made to nick my new school cap, I was just a bit late getting up to my new classroom. And by the time I arrived in room 1S all of the desks appeared to be taken, and the places full with faces that I had never seen before - save for a ‘space’ at the back, next to a very large boy. I had no choice but to attempt to share the small bench. He took up 75% of the seat and I perched myself on the end.

Our form teacher was Mr Skuse - a tall and upright man with a pallid complexion. He picked up the register and without raising his eyes from the list of 30 names he called out, ‘Alsop’. The boy next to me answered boldly, ‘Yes sir’. ‘First name, boy’.

‘Timothy Nigel Edward Lucian Cameron Miles - Alsop, Sir’.

Again, without raising his head, Mr Skuse asked. ‘And what do people call you, boy?’

‘Most people call me Fatty sir.’

A gentle smile formed across the face of ‘Paddy’ Skuse.

The playingfields were a bit of a distance away from the school ...a long walk through the park was one option, the other being the regular bus service from the stop just opposite the former police station. I have only a hazy memory of the cost ...perhaps two 'old' pence each way....no matter, we had ten minutes to get to the sports field between lessons, therefore a run down through the park would save the cash that mum had handed over in the morning.

No time for chatting...change quickly and line up for the obligatory kit inspection from Mr Billingsby, Head of PE. He walked along the line tapping the shins of every boy to check for protective pads...inevitably one of the class would have left their guards on the kitchen table. No matter, line up in the middle, and by the time 'Sir' gets to you, 'boy number one' will have passed his pads down the line behind everyone's back. Well everyone apart from Bob Billingsby. After he was satisfied that the ameliorating shin pads were on the move he would simply turn and return to 'boy number one' and tap his shins once again...only this time with a bit more feeling!

My memory tells me that Bob left after my first year and also that he played football for Woking .....

After a series of meetings just outside of Cardiff, on Tuesday, and then a quick stop for something to eat, I got to Kingfield about half an hour before kick-off. The large police presence, countless sniffer dogs and the somewhat vulgar stewards didn't make for a pleasant entry to the stadium...I'm always mystified by politicians claiming that we need 20,000 more police persons, when we seem to be able to field loads for a fifth grade football match, and our local police station always has about ten police cars parked outside, but a sign on the door that says, 'this station is not for the public to report incidents, but you can phone....'

Ah yes, the game.

At least half of the Woking team were giants....and the rest had been instructed to persevere with the simple tactic to get the ball up in the air as quickly as possible. Aldershot, so much smaller, but energetic and committed to supporting each other.

A first half well taken goal was easily enough to put Woking to the sword....

And at the final whistle, my thoughts returned to 1964, and the gentle satisfied smile on Paddy Skuse's face.