iPad
Since my last blog, I have acquired an iPad. Since the now late Steve Jobs unleashed the overgrown iPhones upon us all a few years ago, I’ve yearned for one, on the same level as a lion yearns for zebra meat, a fish for water and Alex Ferguson for Jack Daniels. So, being brave (or stupid), I raided my piggy bank (Online Saver account) and made my way to the Apple shop, post-haste.
The Apple Shop is mad. The place is fill of children playing with all the fancy toys out on display, no doubt Googling the latest craze from the playground – Justin Bieber, One Direction and Morgan Freeman.
I looked for somebody who was in change and would be able to sell me an iPad. Mainly so I could get the hell out of the children’s after school club as fast as possible. Lots of adults were dressed in coloured t-shirts, I guessed they were the self-proclaimed “geniuses”. If you’re a real genius, you would be in a laboratory or library – not working in a shop.
I eventually found a genius who appeared delighted to see me. His excitement was so extraordinary, I thought his brains were going to leak from his ears. Despite this, he asked me to wait over by the iPad table for another genius to assist me. While I waited, I changed the wallpaper on all the demo iPads to the Bath City FC logo and left my blog, Sean’s Stories, open for the next person to use the demo iPad to discover.
I was eventually served. A genius tearing himself away from the laboratory, where he had just discovered a cure for AIDS. I was then asked what I would like to buy, what I knew about Apple and if I wanted to kiss the solid gold life-size statue of Steve Jobs in the centre of the store. Every response I gave was greeted by “amazing”. In fact, if I had been given a pound for every time I heard that word during my visit to the shop, I would have had the iPad paid for.
Somebody once told me that iPads are made in a factory in China and everyone that works in the factory wants to kill themselves due to the poor working conditions. If I worked in the Apple Store, I would kill myself. I think it would be awful.
Ill
While you were all enjoying the long, 4 day Jubilee weekend, I was ill. A throat infection. I’m not sure how I contracted it, but it was very painful. Doing what any sensible person would do, I didn’t call the doctor, instead opted to look on the internet for advice. The conclusion – I was either pregnant or had AIDS. I suspect the former. It really hurt though. My throat felt as if I had swallowed a razor blade and washed it down with lemon juice. I was kept alive on a strict diet of chicken soup, custard and many pints of TCP – my flat still stinks of the stuff now, although in a strange way I like the smell. I may use it as an air freshener from now on.
The bank holiday weekend ended and so typically did the shearing pain in my mouth. Therefore I did not take any time off work. The fact I cured myself also meant I did not have to visit the doctors or buy a pregnancy test. I suppose that is a good thing.
Thrown Away
I watched a programme on hoarders recently. The man on the programme had filled his house with rubbish and made tunnels out of piles of newspapers. He only ever ate boiled eggs and sponge cake. I was worried I was keeping to much junk in my flat and would turn into him. As a result, I have been throwing a lot of things away. I think the bin men must be pissed off. Old coffee machines, juicers, a PC and a massive speaker have all been put in the bin. I’m too lazy to take it to the tip, but spent hours disassembling the PC and putting it into five different bags. That is the only way the bin men would take it. Some of the stuff I threw away could have been sold on eBay. Again, I’m too lazy to organise that.
Flaming Galah
The Olympic Torch is coming to Bath. Some people I know are excited by this and tell me it is a once in a lifetime experience to witness. It has pissed me off as I won’t be able to get home on time. Somebody is running up Newbridge Hill with the torch and nobody is allowed to cross the road. I wonder what happens if it rains. Does the torch go out? What if somebody puts it out with a fire extinguisher? I may be forced to watch it while I wait until I’m allowed home.
Quality Food
I’ve been eating a lot of Wagon Wheels lately. I know they have been around for years – probably since the invention of the wheel – but rediscovering a taste from times gone by is good. They are certainly by favourite type of biscuit. Or are they a cake? The ones with jam inside are better still. The other snack I have been enjoying is Frazzles – the indisputable king of the crisps. Apparently, they are suitable for vegetarians, which surprised me. They taste so much of bacon, it’s as if somebody scraped a pig with a cheese grater, cooked the strips of pork and stuck them in a plastic bag.
Manchester Is Blue
The football season has been shit. Bath City got relegated and Leeds United didn’t do much better. I was however given some joy by Manchester City. I’m not a supporter of the club, but like me, they hate Manchester United, so as a result, I like them. It’s a nice warm feeling how football supporters are united by hate. I must admit, when Manchester City played their rivals, I did let out a very loud cheer of delight when they scored the winning goal. I yelled again last Sunday when they won the league, which meant Manchester United didn’t, My neighbours must think I’m a glory-supporting Manchester City fan. Either that or they don’t know about football and think they’re living next door to a madman. I think one of them is a football fan as he shouts every time Tottenham are playing. Maybe he isn’t a Spurs fan. Maybe he’s just mad and likes to make loud, random noises.
Hereford United 3-2 Torquay United
League Two
Saturday 5th May 2012 – 15:00
Despite Bath City finishing their league season last week, I promised all you lucky people another blog, and boy have you got one. At the weekend, the “giants” Hereford played host to the titans of Torquay. I had to make use of planes, trains and automobiles to get to Herefordshire (OK, four trains and two taxis – no planes), but I am proud to bring to you my first ever blog on a Football League game. Make sure you’re sat down, as the ‘Excite-o-meter’ is about to go into overdrive.
When you think of Hereford, you think of cider. Well, I do. Cider which is pretty decent, but nothing on the stuff from Somerset. When you think of Hereford United Football Club, many think of FA Cup upsets. Most people would think of the time in the 1970’s, when as a Southern League outfit, they beat topflight Newcastle United. Again, I think differently. Hereford United are the “giants” Bath City (famously) knocked out of the FA Cup in 1993 (it was live on Sky, don’t you know).
Since then, Hereford have gained promotion to the Football League, reaching the dizzy heights of League One in 2008. They beat my other team, Leeds United a couple of times along the way, but we won’t talk about that. Since then, for whatever reason, Hereford have not been doing so well and have battled against relegation all season.
Cue a last day of the season clash against Torquay United, who themselves could be promoted to League One with a win over Hereford, should moneybags Crawley Town lose to Accrington Stanley. Then again, Hereford could stay up if they win and Barnet lose to Burton Albion. The permutations were endless, and Jeff Stelling was no doubt having kittens on Soccer Saturday.
Random photo of a wall light
The day started with a taxi journey to Bath Spa train station. I arrived very early and predictably, the train was very late – and very full. Cue mayhem – people fighting to get onto the train, people fighting to get off and getting trapped in the train doors. Then there was the gladiatorial battle for a reserved seat. If anyone wants to see normally perfectly civilised human beings turn into animals, take a trip aboard a busy train.
After making the train trip to Newport, getting delayed and catching a later train, we eventually arrived in Hereford. There, along with about 20-or-so of Torquay United’s toughest hooligans, we were greeted by Hereford’s local constabulary. After wishing us luck (I say “us”, I’m not even a Torquay fan), we were asked to behave ourselves and not to relegate the home side.
Does "rank" mean something different in Hereford?
We then made our way to the ground. We got as far as Morrison’s supermarket – 30 seconds from the train station – when I realised we were lost. I began to wish I had listened to the friendly policeman who had offered directions. I decided to follow a group of Torquay fans, who appeared to know where they were going. Making conversation, I informed them that I was a Bath City supporter and reminisced about past encounters between our clubs – the 2007 FA Cup tie and the 2008 FA Trophy match. I reminded the Torquay fan his side won both games. He apologised.
Green army!
The ground was in fact easy to find. It was a simple case of follow the police officers who lined the streets. Edgar Street impressed me. A friendly club, which treated both home and away supporters like human beings – something which many clubs I have visited this season have failed to do. Both sets of fans were invited to use the clubs many bars and socialise pre-match. There was no trouble whatsoever.
Extremely hungry after our travels, we looked for food. Besides an impressive selection of crisps, there was nothing on offer in any of the three bars. There was however a rather enticing-looking burger van. Burgers were ordered, sadly without chips as the deep fat fryer had broken. A sad day.
No chips. I predict a riot.
Burgers eaten and cider drank (sadly, Magners), we walked though the turnstiles and found our seats. We could have gone in the terraces, but chose to end the season as prawn sandwich eaters.
As the stands and terraces began to fill, supporters were reminded that it was a criminal offence to encroach onto the pitch. A pointless announcement. If Hereford were to save themselves from relegation or Torquay win promotion, that pitch would be full of football fans quicker you could say “Proud members of the Blue Square Bet Premier”.
Best not bring a bottle
The atmosphere and tension began to build. A set of fans behind the goal in a home terrace let off a couple of flares. I was impressed. I don’t think the stewards were overjoyed at the firework display though. As is the technological age we live in, some fan videoed the blatant act of hooliganism and uploaded it to YouTube.
Warm up shot
The players walked out onto the pitch to the club’s very own song Hereford United – We Love You. Cue thousands fans cheering and applauding – probably in appreciation of the excellent music which pisses all over You’ll Never Walk Alone.
Hereford began the game nervously. The thought of a trip to Braintree Town on a cold Tuesday night a real possibility should they lose the game. The fans were quiet. You could tell they were nervous. They did erupt to abuse the linesman who, to be fair to the home fans, was absolutely rubbish.
A load of old bull
Despite looking edgy and generally under pressure from Torquay, Hereford took the lead early into the game. The home fans went absolutely crazy. More flares were lit, a few supporters fell onto the pitch only to be greeted by the club’s mascot, who was equally elated.
The jubilant home supporters behind the goal started singing “We’ll do what we want, we’ll do what we want” Presumably in response to the spoil-sport stewards trying to ruin their flare-lighting and pitch invading fun. Booo!
Traditional floodlights. I like.
The manic scenes still turned very sombre when word got around that Barnet were beating Burton Albion. This meant, as things stood, Hereford would be relegated. I am sure the news of the goal had caused Jeff Stelling to jump around the Soccer Saturday studio like a man with a family of scorpions in his boxer shorts.
Forza Hereford Ultras!
Torquay, who still appeared to be the better side, pushed for an equaliser which would get their promotion charge back on track. They played some fancy football, but cheated a fair bit too; Eunan O’Kane throwing himself to a ground and rolling around the floor a bit like this. This enraged the already angry home supporters, although not as much as when Torquay’s Rene Howe became obstructed by a Hereford defender and did his very best impression of a man getting hit in the face by a baseball bat.
A huge cheer erupted moments later, but I did not know why. My heart sank, thinking I had somehow missed a wonderful long-range goal, or even more disappointing, a dog invading the pitch. It was neither of those things. The scoreboard had an update from the Barnet game and brought good news – Burton Albion had equalised against Barnet. Better still, Jeff Stelling had been admitted to hospital following over excitement and scorpion stings on his genitals.
Match shot
Hereford’s afternoon got even better when they were awarded a penalty, which was well converted. A third goal was scored shortly after, the best of the game, to put Hereford 3-0 up and dreaming of survival and trips to Fleetwood Town next season.
The second half kicked off and Torquay made two changes. One of which was to bring on Ryan Jarvis, who I thought was excellent and changed the game – so much so, he scored in under 20 seconds. 3-1 then became 3-2. The comeback was on, although the Torquay United coach drivers had clearly seen enough – a tannoy announcement informed all away fans that the drivers had returned to their vehicles.
The second goal was greeted by the Torquay supporters ‘doing the poznan’. Some kind of celebration presumably created by Manchester City which involves hugging each other, turning your back to goal and jumping up and down a lot. The home fans responded with “What the fucking hell is that?” before throwing another flare.
Sadly, the 14-12 ‘goalfest’ scoreline I was hoping for did not happen. There would be no more goals and the score would finish 3-2 to Hereford. Excellent. Boom boom, we’re staying up etc… However it wasn’t great. Barnet had taken the lead at Burton Albion, saving themselves and relegating Hereford. Home fans sung how they would be Hereford until they died (or have to go to Ebbsfleet United), while the disappointed away supporters left hoping the play offs would bring them success – and that their coach drivers hadn’t gone back to Devon.
So a sad day really. Sad for Hereford fans that they went down. Sad for all football fans that Torquay didn’t go up, as it meant Crawley Town got promoted instead.
"We're relegated. Lets blame the mascot"
Good luck to Hereford next season. It is a shame I won’t be making the trip with Bath City. Good luck to Torquay in the play offs too, although I will also be keeping an eye on their opponents Cheltenham Town, who have one of my favourite ex-Bath City players ever – Sido Jombati.
And as far as my blog goes, that is about it. Until next season anyway. See you for the pre-friendlies in July, which will feature Western League grounds, trialists nobody has heard of, false hope and the annual visit of a Bristol Rovers XI to Twerton Park – always an exciting affair.
Lets pretend we're staying up
* until next season, or maybe even next weekend if I go to Hereford/Torquay.
Alfreton Town 2-1 Bath City
Conference National
Saturday 28th April 2012 – 13:00
So that’s that over with. After 92 games of Conference National football; 8,280 minutes against (usually) decent opposition; 107 goals scored, 157 conceded; Bath City’s two year stay in the top tier of non-league football is over; ending pretty much as we started it – a disappointing 2-1 away defeat to a team with a ground more suited to the division below. Back in August 2010 it was Hayes and Yeading United who beat us. Last weekend, the victors were Alfreton Town.
Everyone is more than aware of the contrast between our first season in the Blue Square Bet Premier and our second. During the first season miracles were performed by players and management alike. This season, Bath City found their level – second from bottom in a very competitive league, involving clubs with fan bases larger than many League One teams, with owners richer than some in the Premier League. On hindsight, barring a second miracle, relegation was inevitable, although still very much disappointing.
Despite being some 160-miles from Bath, compared to a lot of our away games, Alfreton is one of the more “local” trips. However, we had to leave Twerton Park at the very unwelcome time of 7.30am for a 1pm kick off. Why? Thanks to the satellite TV station, Premier Sports, wishing to broadcast another game in the same division and those loveable guys at the Football Conference insisting every club kicks off at the same time on the final day. So Premier Sports, who have given Bath City Football Club a grand total of £0.00 this season, moved our game to 1pm. Bastards.
Man, those turnstiles have style!
The final trip of the season on the supporters coach, also known as First Pink Bus, was an eventful one. By that I mean not a lot happened. The 50/50 draw was held. I didn’t win. I haven’t won it all year. Sums up our season. Excitement broke out when a puddle of liquid was spotted on the coach floor. Either one of the many elderly travellers had lost control of their bladder, or a Thermos flask had exploded. I was told it was the latter. As my shoes were within the puddle of fluid, I really hope it was the latter.
The coach dropped us in Alfreton town centre, where we were greeted by three chickens walking down the street and across the road. That’s right, chickens walking across the road. There’s a joke there somewhere, but I’m not funny enough to work it out.
The town is a 15 minute walk from the football ground and I was feeling a little lazy, but the attraction of a Weatherspoons was too much to take – a pub renowned for selling Thatcher’s Gold cider, instead of Magners and Strongbox. Sadly, there was no Thatcher’s. Stowford Press was however sufficient and was enjoyed with a cheese and tomato toastie, with chips. I know how to dine.
The ground, like Twerton Park, is traditional. There is no segregation, you can switch ends at half time, and if you’re tight-fisted, you can even watch the match for free on an embankment outside the ground. I paid the more than reasonable £13 at the turnstile.
The cheapskate stand
Just like the good old days of Southern League (and what we will be doing next season), we stood behind the goal which we were attacking. Presumably unaware of this tradition, we were surrounded by home supporters, one of whom asked their partner “Are we sure we’re in the Alfreton side?” as a travelling army of 20(ish) vocal fans sung “Come on City!”
All respect for Alfreton’s non-league traditions was soon lost after they scored. The awful sound, which has become all too familiar in this league, was boomed across the terraces – the sound of The Fratellis – Chelsea Dagger, as was played six pissing times at Grimsby where we lost 6-0.
I’m not really sure how the goal occurred. If you’re expecting a match report on this blog, you should know better by now. I know 1-0 soon became 2-0 after Gethin Jones generously gifted an Alfreton forward the ball for their second goal.
Alfreton's furry mascot and a man dressed up as a bear
Bath City were awarded a penalty shortly afterwards. Scott Murray, making his final appearance for the club and indeed in football, wrestled the ball from regular spot-kick taker (and my player of the year), Marc Canham. Something I was not too happy about. Canham has a 100% success rate from the penalty spot this season and while Muray has had an exciting career, the vast majority of it has been at Bristol City. Why should Bath City risk a result because he wants to go out on a high? Luckily, Murray scored. The keeper did dive the right way, but there was too much power in the shot. Had it been saved, I would have been angry. Very angry.
Bath City fans, delighted that they had actually seen a goal – somewhat of a rarity this season – broke out in song “We’re going to win 3-2”, before the ever-pessimistic, yet legendary supporter, Mike York, told his brother, Brain,”I bet we don’t” A few kicks were thrown – between the players, not Mike and Brian – and the classic anti-P.C. chant of “You dirty northern bastards” was sung by the travelling faithful. Sung, while surrounded by hundreds of home fans. A home supporter did ask them to refrain from swearing as there were children present – a fair, but pointless request, as there was more chance of Bath City winning promotion to League Two next season than the fans laying off the naughty words.
Hardcore support
At the end of the first half, we switched ends, walking the length of the ground to stand behind the opposite goal. A warning message was read out on the tannoy to all those in the stadium “Please do not encroach onto the pitch” the club clearly shitting themselves at the prospect of Alfreton fans celebrating surviving relation and Bath City supporters celebrating going down, by all running onto the pitch and causing mayhem. No sooner had the request been made, a large group of City fans began singing “On the pitch, on the pitch, on the pitch!”. There was no pitch invasion that day, but the threat of one certainly scared the stewards.
City were excellent in the second half and did everything but score. The best chance came late in the second half when Alex Russell only had to tap the ball into the net, but failed miserably. Russell has scored some fantastic and memorable goals for us, but it is clear that he is one of these players who only scores wonder-strikes.
As the remaining minutes were slugged out and Bath City’s time in the Conference drew to a close, Mike York eagerly informed all supporters than Alfreton Town would be turning fulltime next season. Something which is yet to be confirmed. He added that they will also win the league. Something which will never happen. Good old Mike, we’ll miss him in the summer months.
Final ever match shot from the Blue Square Bet Pre... whatever that stupid league is called
After City totally dominated the entire second half, Alfreton nearly scored a third goal. They didn’t score. We only lost 2-1, however it would have been very fitting of our season if, deep into injury time, we had let in a third. In fact the City players probably should have let one in, just for a laugh.
The referee blew for full time on the game, the season and our time in the horribly named Blue Square Bet Premier. Next season it’s the equally annoyingly titled Blue Square Bet South. Hopefully with a few more wins to enjoy. It’s been a fun couple of seasons in the big boys league. I’ll probably write a deep and meaningful season review in the upcoming weeks. I’m also hoping to catch a couple more non-City games this season, so Sean’s Stories shouldn’t be put back onto the bookshelf (or into the bin) quite yet.
Bath City 4-2 Gateshead
Conference National
Saturday 21st April 2012 – 15:00
Saturday saw the final home game of what has been a disappointing season at Twerton Park. The visitors were Gateshead, who had made the very long trip to Somerset from the north east – even longer than my previous week’s journey to Darlington.
Pre-match, I visited the old club shop. The old club shop is a blue shipping container, which up until a couple of years ago supplied supporters with metal badges, mugs and best of all, fridge magnets. Since getting promoted to the ‘big boys league’, Bath City have upgraded their shopping experience to a dog food marquee. The shipping container remains in its original location and is used by the Supporters Club as a base on match days. The purpose of my visit was to hand in my voting form for the player, supporter and young supporter of the season. This was all done with the highest security, to prevent any vote-rigging or foul play. While I won’t post on here which supporters I voted for (they may read my blog!), my player of the season was an easy decision – Marc Canham. A great player, who can even be forgiven for playing for Team Bath all those years ago.
City’s opponents, Gateshead, were having an excellent season and sat just outside the play offs. A remarkable feat for a club who, and with the up-most respect, would not be considered one of the league giants like Luton or rolling in money á la Fleetwood. They did however need a win to keep their play off dreams alive. Surely a trip to the side bottom of the league would be a guaranteed 3 points? In fact, they should just give the first team the weekend off in preparation for their upcoming midweek fixture. Send the youth team to Bath? Football isn’t like that, as we all know.
Bath City’s first season in the Conference South, back in 2007, was a huge success. The majority of the campaign was spent in the top five and talk of back-to-back promotions was rife. That fairy tale ended in April 2008, during the final home game of the season, when Sutton United, who were cemented to the foot of the table and already relegated, beat City 3-2 in a result that shocked world football (probably). The defeat cost us a play off spot and coincidentally almost four years to the day, Bath City, bottom of the league and already down, ruined Gateshead’s party. I guess that’s why we love (and at times hate) football.
After casting my vote, I walked round to the terrace behind the dugouts to watch the magic unfold. Bladud the Pig got into an altercation with Gateshead’s keeper during the warm up. Very strange. Clear red card for the pig. A dangerous two-trotted challenge.
Gateshead started the game well and gave little indication as to what would unfold across the 90 minutes. They even forced City into clearing a ball off the line. Then Bath turned on the style in a performance no doubt the best of the season. Adam Connolly, the goal hero against Dagenham and villain who messed up my bet against Fleetwood, scored what a Twerton Park moaner would call a “pretty good goal”. In comparison, I would call it a “fucking fantastic strike”.
It would appear that God is a Geordie. As following City taking the lead, what was a warm sunny afternoon, turned wet with rain. God was clearly crying as Gateshead’s play off dream started to die.
As God’s tears fell to the Twerton Park turf, Bath City continued their attack. Minutes later winning a penalty, awarded by referee Stephen Bratt who was still overcome with guilt following his last trip to Bath (I hope he got my letter). The spot kick was converted by the player of the season, Marc Canham and City were 2-0 up. Just so you’re aware, folks; the clock at this point reads just 8 minutes!
The singing started, with The Legion entertaining the ground with a rendition of “We’re all going on a trip to Boreham Wood” Excellent. You can stick your Luton and your Wrexham up your arse. I’m looking forward to away days at Staines, Tonbridge Angels and Weston Super Mare… OK, maybe not that last one!
Match shot
Either somebody had put something in the players’ pre-match cup of tea, or I have been looking at the league table upside down all season, as Bath City were playing fantastic football and in just the 13th minute, yes 13, it was 3-0. Was I dreaming? Had I in fact had the hallucinogenic cup of tea? I checked my iPhone for confirmation. We were winning 3-0! At this point there were just three sets of people upset in the ground. Gateshead players, Gateshead supporters and the negative Bath City fans. They were upset because there was absolutely nothing to moan about! You could argue the referee, Stephen Bratt was saddened by our winning margin, given his previous treatment of us, but even he seemed happy.
By the way, for anyone reading my blog who also happened to visit Twerton for the first time on Saturday, I must tell you something. Despite our league position, we play like that EVERY week. I promise. So, if you’re a billionaire who wants to find a sleeping giant of a football club that plays such attractive football they make Barcelona look like Stoke, you know where to chuck your spare coppers.
It was only at half time I realised than Gateshead’s star striker, Jon Shaw was playing. The way some fans, newspapers and websites raved about him, you would have thought they had bloody Pele playing for them. I guess the stats don’t lie. 28 league goals. But Bath City managed to make him look ordinary. Is there still time to win the league, as I think we may give Fleetwood a run for their money? No? Bollocks.
The ever-impressive City continued their dominance and Sean Canham – no relation to Marc Canham (player of the season) – scored a header to make it 4-0.
Gateshead did manage to get a couple of goals back, just to give me a few nerves. After all, what’s a football match if you’re not given a minor heart scare during the course of the 90 minutes. If nothing else, it gave the moaning old men something to whinge about “Roll-o again” they complained. I hate it when people call him that. It’s “Jim Rollo”, not “Roll-o” He isn’t the name of a chocolate sweet. The only person who is allowed to mispronounce his name, and does so only a frequent basis, is the manager Adie Britton.
We were happy. Very happy. The Legion sang how we would stay up and Adie even raised a rare smile from the dugout. A nice sight as he always looks so stressed. It is clear how much the football club means to him. He even managed to share a joke with the referee, reminding him of his performance in the Alfreton game. At least I think he was joking.
Gateshead tried for the third goal, which lead to repeated groans of “Come on, City. Keep ‘em out!” from a nearby fan I have now named Mr. Grumble, however City did a professional job and kept the scoreline at 4-2. An excellent performance and 3 rare points.
Scott Murray won man of the match. He did well, but given the fact it was his last home game of his long career, it was inevitable he would win the honour this week. In fact, had he scored an own goal, broken Marc Canham’s leg, mispronounced “Roll-o” and got sent off, he would still have got the champagne at full time.
The club house at full time was packed. All it takes is a win and the place fills up. Fans, hearing rumours that fellow strugglers Kettering had dropped points, gathered around the projector, waiting for Jeff Stelling to bring good news about our league position. A cheer erupted when our thoughts were confirmed. After 8 months in 24th place, Bath City had moved up to the dizzy heights of 23rd! Cue scenes of unprecedented joy and songs of “We’re not bottom anymore!” I love non-league.
Take a good look at the sign. You won't see it again. *sniff sniff*
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
