To me, Saturday normally means either (a) rest, (b) football, or (c) both. This particular Saturday, however, I had neither.

Despite the negative-sounding introduction, this blog is not another one of my rants about how I was forced into some tedious task like digging an African well or repairing a church roof. While I worked hard, this weekend’s task was enjoyable and for a good cause (not that digging an African well wouldn’t be a worthwhile task – just not for a lazy man like me).

On a hot summer Saturday morning, I met over 50 other Bath City supporters at the home of non-league football, Twerton Park, to raise funds and awareness of the football club by walking 10km around the city. I never normally use kilometres, but 10km sounds so much better than 6.21371192237 miles.

We started by walking down the Lower Bristol Road towards the turnpike by The Boathouse pub. The overgrown hedgerows forced a lot of walkers to take their route onto the main road. I wasn’t so worried about myself and my fellow fans, more so the two players taking part – we have a striker crisis as it is – having one run down and turned into roadkill isn’t going to help our season!

Upon reaching The Boathouse (and not stopping for refreshments) we continued our expedition along Newbridge Road. Part of the trip involved passing my flat. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to go back home, turn on Sky Sports News and spend the rest of my afternoon resting. Had I done that, I would no doubt have been killed by a few of the burly City fans; resulting in my death and football banning orders for them. Not what the club really needs.

The route continued past Victoria Park and into Queens Square, where we then made our way into the town centre. It isn’t uncommon in Bath to see crowds of 50+ people aimlessly wandering around; however, most of them are normally Japanese or American tourists.

We did get a few strange looks. Most onlookers no doubt wondering which team we were supporters of. The black and white stripes would normally suggest Newcastle United, but as all those fans taking part in the walk weighed under 30-stone, we were clearly not Geordies. Our pasty English looks also suggested we were not Italians supporting Juventus.

The troops continued their way through town and down Union Street, where we arrived at the Bath City stand – and more importantly, the ice cream stall.

After refuelling with Cornish cream and the contents of Greggs bakery, it was time to finish the walk and make our way back to Twerton. The route took us back along the Lower Bristol road and past the old Bath Press offices.

As the Twerton arches came into view, I could tell we where nearly there – burger, chips, Thatchers cider and aching legs awaiting me at the clubhouse.

I made it. It was a long walk, but I made it. When asked by fellow walkers if I was tired, or had aching muscles, I was pleased to report I was feeling fine and “could go round again”. This cockiness wore off after I spent an hour resting in the clubhouse and thought it would be a good idea to go home – then the leg-ache reared its ugly head.

I made it home (just) and spent the rest of the afternoon doing what I would have probably done had I not walked – absolutely nothing.

For those interested, the supporters raised over £3,000 in sponsorship. A tremendous effort my all and a sum which will go a long way into helping the club. It is just a shame the wealth of football is not more evenly distributed. The likes of Emmanuel Adebayor can command £200,000 a WEEK for simply being “Emmanuel Adebayor” and rolling about like a cheat. 60 die-hard fans work really hard to raise £3,000 to help pay the wages of a non-league player for a YEAR! Surely this is not right…