Whilst the Northern Premier League has completed its season, there are still two weeks of games in the North West Counties League. I wanted to go somewhere I have not been to before, and the forecast looked pleasant enough for a walk in the East Lancashire hills. Colne, Nelson and Barnoldswick were all at home, so I was assisted in my choice when Matt from the Lost Boyos tweeted that he was going to Nelson, entertaining Maine Road, so I decided to pop along and say hello.
I saw Matt getting off the train, but he was too far ahead of me to catch, and looked far from lost as he strode confidently off with his travelling companion, his flatmate Niklas, to find the pick of the town's public houses - having walked past one, he was clearly going to the other. Having been to school at the foot of the North Downs, my first thought on seeing a hill is to wonder what is at the top. The weather was a little showery as I walked up the side of the valley and found myself on the edge of the Forest of Pendle.
The weather quickly cleared and I was rewarded with some fine scenery. Despite being from the countryside, I have never perfected the art of walking over a cattle grid - having small feet, I am unsure whether to put the arch on one bar, or put my heel on one and toes on the other.
After my walk I found the White Swan in Fence. This is a Timothy Taylor's pub, selling, amongst others, Golden Best, which I thought was mainly for Yorkshire, with the Dark Mild being for the export trade, or "the discerning drinker in east Lancashire". In any event I eschewed this in favour of the Champions Blonde, a French style in honour of L'Tour de t'Yorkshire. The Tour de France associates cycling with that country, although some of us are old enough to think more of Belgians with an improbable number of consonants on the end of their names. The pub had an impressive set of glass jars behind the bar containing spirits with fruit floating in them, which sounded very pleasant, but not for lunch time.
On leaving, I passed the Inghamite church, one of only two of this denomination surviving from the 1790s. I then took a short cut along a footpath, forgetting that in hilly areas, the bottom is where the water gathers, and found myself dodging a number of hedge to hedge quagmires.
Nelson's Victoria Park, also known as Little Wembley, is a few hundred yards from their previous home, at which they once attracted14,000 spectators, and which is now partially under the M65. The front doors of a terrace of houses open on to the grass beside the pitch, although with a fence between - taking the habit of northern people not using the front door for everyday access to its logical conclusion, their vehicular access is to the back. I took up position on what we might call the residential side with the sun behind me.
I did not find a team sheet, but the advantage of a club with which I have no connection is that I do not need one, as no-one is expecting captions. I looked out for Matt - someone wearing a flat cap should be fairly distinctive in this part of the world. Er ... I spotted him in the stand, which would have been looking into the sun, so I stayed put and waited for him to walk round the ground.
I stayed with Matt and Niklas behind the goal the hosts were attacking for the second half. About half way through, they disappeared to a corner of the ground, and I looked round, to see they had found a boat. I was a little less than compos mentis, as it took me a few minutes to work out why Nelson were known as the Admirals, so I was not sure why they had a boat (which, it transpired, was less than seaworthy): although the Pendle Water runs the other side of the trees, a pair of wellingtons would be sufficient to retrieve any balls that went in.
With no-one expecting any photos, I can try out new techniques. With my old camera, I could not position myself directly behind the goal, as the autofocus would almost always catch the net. However, I now have a cross hair for the central focus point, so I took the opportunity of Nelson being awarded a penalty to try it out.
The rest of the pictures from what was very much an end of season game with little at stake can be seen here. Photos of the scenery can be seen here. The account of the day on Lost Boyos can be seen here.
Final score: Nelson 1 Maine Road 1.
On leaving, I passed the Inghamite church, one of only two of this denomination surviving from the 1790s. I then took a short cut along a footpath, forgetting that in hilly areas, the bottom is where the water gathers, and found myself dodging a number of hedge to hedge quagmires.
Nelson's Victoria Park, also known as Little Wembley, is a few hundred yards from their previous home, at which they once attracted14,000 spectators, and which is now partially under the M65. The front doors of a terrace of houses open on to the grass beside the pitch, although with a fence between - taking the habit of northern people not using the front door for everyday access to its logical conclusion, their vehicular access is to the back. I took up position on what we might call the residential side with the sun behind me.
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| Matt poses with Boaty McBoatface |
Final score: Nelson 1 Maine Road 1.
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