TT GROUNDHOPPING

Clive Hayward – @Byehorse

Clive discusses his trip to Worthing

WORTHING (A)

Up and out on Tuesday morning for the normal walk from home to Torre railway station. It was about 8.30 so there were lots of kids with smiles on their way to school. Some of the Mums and Grans pushing younger siblings in pushchairs looked less pleased with their morning exercise.

Opposite me on the train to Newton was a girl with big footballer’s headphones, white socks, blue wool and red knitting needles.

Newton station buffet has has a rebrand and is now Cafe Local. The counter has been turned 90 degrees. They had Vapes and £4.19 bottles of Doombar on sale. Neither held much appeal. The coffee was good though.

As we left Teigmouth along the seawall, an elderly gent behind me took a call. In a distinctive Brummie accent he informed his daughter and the rest of the carriage that: “I’m on the train. I’ll see you at 12 o’clock. It’s a lovely train. Very long. It’s empty actually.”

At Dawlish, almost as if in a cartoon, a bag carrying passenger ran past the Sea Breeze Cafe to catch the train. It was very tight!

At Powderham: 4 men in orange with chainsaws were giving the last rites to one of the Earl of Devon’s stricken oak trees.

At St David’s we were joined by a distinguished looking chap, slightly out of breath and with a more modest set of headphones perched on his white dreadlocks.

A young Mum walked down the carriage, baby in arms and shepherding a toddler who was clutching a croissant which looked as though it was big enough to last her all morning.

I changed at Westbury and on the train down to Southampton overheard a Lancastrian chap in his 40s (scarf, duffel coat, glasses) mansplaining the Kendrick v Drake rap battle to his sister.

I did some reading on the train to Sussex. As we rattled along the coast I had reached the late 1960s in Yugoslavia and Tito was still doing a reasonable job of holding it all together.

I arrived at Worthing just after 1.30. A quick scout around the town for likely pubs or cafes wasn’t hugely encouraging, but as I made my way to my hotel I made a mental note of The Cow Shed Bar and Kitchen, which is located across the road from Worthing Pier.

My Gulls Eye View colleague Tom Kelly lives nearby. He earns his living on Easyjet, but today he hopped off the Coastliner bus and we met up for an afternoon that was refreshing in more ways than one.

We decided to nip into the Cow Shed to review our options and work out how to keep ourselves entertained ahead of the evening’s clash of the titans.

As you might expect in a seaside town on a chilly February afternoon, our arrival doubled the number of drinkers. We were greeted by a friendly barmaid (“server?” “customer host?” “pint executive?”). Two pints of cider were slightly cheekily priced at £12. I promptly gave her a tenner rather than a twenty- an honest mistake, I promise: the lighting was dim- but she refrained from chucking us out and we laughed it off.

If you are the cheerful Torquay fan who walked past the window and waved at us a few times, it was nice to see you. Come in for a pint next time!

After a second cider, Tom and I decided we would go and film a Torquay Talk preview whilst the light outside was still good and before we got too inebriated. Worthing Pier opened in 1862, so it has been around longer than Torquay United and is even older than me. We soon found ourselves 300 yards out into the Channel (well, we would have been if it wasn’t low tide), and we shot a preview which owed more to Morecambe and Wise than Wotton and Warnock, but I somehow doubt that Hayward and Kelly will be getting their own series any time soon.

As the late afternoon continued to fade, we decided to stick with what we knew, and toddled back into the Cow Shed for a couple more liveners. I had a nice chat with Tom’s Mum Jane, my fellow Nat Obs FOF of the Year finalist from a few years back.

Tom and I were having a great time, but when the barmaid came and lit a candle for us I thought things were probably moving a bit too fast, so I suggested we head for Spoons for a bite to eat.

There were definitely no candles in The Three Fishes, but the cider was half price compared to the previous establishment, and we chased down steak and chips with fizzy apple juice (me) and boozy orangeade (Tom).

My attempt to engage a red and white scarfed local in conversation didn’t go brilliantly. I think he may have been a little deaf, or maybe he didn’t understand my accent, or perhaps he simply didn’t fancy chatting to a couple of 6-pint-deep Yellows! Anyway, he eventually responded to my enquiry about whether he was looking forward to the match by saying: “Oh no mate, I’m just having a pint here before I go off to play darts!”

We couldn’t put it off any longer. We set off on the 20 minute walk to- get this- The Sussex Transport Community Stadium. I was expecting another comfortable defeat after the Trophy debacle in January, but the lads fought like tigers for a fully deserved point. Jordan Young’s free kick and Dan Hayfield’s late through ball which allowed Cody to win and convert an injury time penalty will live long in the memory. It was a decent turnout from the Yellow Army, swelled as ever by fans now living many miles from TQ1.

There was a sweet moment after the final whistle when Jordan Thomas- fresh from being snapped in half by a challenge for which Sam Beard rightly saw red- came over to give his Mum a kiss.

Tom untied his Proud Gulls flag with some difficulty in the nippy conditions (not helped by wisecracks from me and a friendly steward about never having been in the Boy Scouts).

We wandered out, soon surrounded by Worthing fans who seemed far from heartbroken at the result. We soon bumped into Messrs Westcott and Robinson, who very kindly invited us in as guests for a nightcap. It took all of Michael’s considerable charm to get us past the reluctant doorman (“attendant?” “security host?”) and we were soon in the posh part, where the assembled throng were ignoring the remains of a multi-coloured Swiss Roll buffet in favour of liquid refreshment. We were introduced to consortium member Matt Corby. We were soon joined by Mike Edwards and Paul Wotton, who shared some thoughts on the game: especially two red cards given and one not!

The Bryn chaps went their various ways (Michael joining Paul and Mike on the team bus for the mother of midweek journeys home). The Referees Assessor departed for his care home, clipboard in hand, Tom caught his own bus and I took a couple of pictures of the Pier whilst the high tide whispered it’s way up the shingle beach.

Wednesday was a travelling day. A bus ride and a mooch around Brighton. A present for Celia, a wistful look at some cracking-looking pubs (we should definitely have a day doing that properly) and then home via Southampton, Salisbury and all points West.

Including Axminster, where a signal failure left us waiting around for 2 hours before a taxi arrived to whisk six of us back to the bright lights of Exeter. You couldn’t make this last bit up. In a desperate attempt to break the silence I asked who had come furthest on the train. Three ladies had come from London. I revealed that I had travelled from Brighton. The guy on my right had started in Chichester, whilst the slightly posh and quite disgruntled guy on my left said he was on his way to a football match in Plymouth but was probably going to miss kick off. At that point, Mr Chichester piped up that he was going to Home Park too- but that he was a Millwall fan.We were quite cramped and there was no room for punches to be thrown. I’m joking of course, but as I write this the Lions are 4-0 down, so there may be fewer green seats in situ by the time you read this!