I was a saggar maker's bottom knocker

This weekend saw Prescot Cables travel to their second pre season game, at Hanley Town. I was concerned by the hosts' website, as the home page had them playing Alvechurch. The latter, however, were telling the world they were at Squires Gate, so, if the worst came to the worst, Hanley would be wondering where Alvecurch had got to, before deciding to play us as we were there.

Hanley is one of the "five towns" (actually six) of the City of Stoke-on-Trent. I last visited Hanley, on the way to Leek Town about 10 years ago, on a rainy day, so I did not see one of the more attractive aspects - being hilly, as is the countryside around, you can see a green hill at the end of almost every street. It was from the nearby village of Dilhorne that my great-great-great grandfather moved to London as a pottery seller in the 1840s, before meeting his wife and moving to her home at Marsh Green in Kent, a couple of miles from which, in the broad sunlit uplands of Surrey, I took my first steps 120 years later.

Pottery was fired in containers called saggars, the making of which was a skilled trade. Making, or knocking out, the bases was a separate, less skilled, occupation. I am not sure if there was career progression: successful bottom knocking leading to saggar making, eventually being let loose on a teapot. I was unaware of my family history in earthenware when I read a piece with this post's title in the Blue Peter Annual of about 1977, reporting on John Noakes trying the trade as one of his less intrepid exploits.

On the way from the bus, I could have sworn I heard bleating from someone's back garden. Dismissing this thought, I was soon in the ground, with my ancestral village over the hill in the background (a visit having been thwarted by the bus only running on Mondays to Fridays).

There was plenty of newly laid tarmac, suggesting extensive work over the summer. The machinery was still there, so there may be more to do.

Most of the ground behind the new hard standing was bare earth, presumably as a result of the works, but there was still some undisturbed grass for spectators to enjoy.

Jazz McCulloch

A new modular stand had been named after a gentleman who was clearly a significant figure, as their Twitter profile picture was also a tribute to him.

Jacob Jones in front of the Colin Stair Stand

The stand, when it is open, will provide the only fixed cover, although there are plenty of trees to provide shade opposite the stand, with the usual challenges of shadow once the sun came out properly in the second half.

Bram Johnstone

This was our only longer distance pre season trip of the pre season programme, and was another good test, giving most of the squad a good run out on a humid day, With the hosts having scored in the opening minutes, we replied with two.

At the end of the game, I caught one of the frequent buses to Hanley Bus Station, the concrete wind tunnel of my last visit having been replaced with an award winning new structure with information screens telling you the next bus to Stoke-on-Trent Station, rather than the guesswork of the previous layout. On the way home, I stopped in Manchester to give Matt from the Lost Boyos a cheery wave at his leaving do before he goes to work in Slovakia. I had threatened to join him for his last game at Salford City, but I knew that once Prescot had started playing I would be on the road with the team again: I am just not cut out to be a hopper.

Oh, and the bleating I heard earlier? My ears had not deceived me, someone did have a couple of sheep in a back garden - a larger than usual one, but a garden nonetheless.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen on the club website here, and on Google Photos here.

Final score: Hanley Town 1 Prescot Cables 2.

Colour combinations

Prescot Cables opened their pre season programme with a visit from Charnock Richard, recently admitted to the Hallmark Security (North West Counties) League. In previous seasons we visited them, but this was more convenient for an evening game, as the bus service through their village finishes at 5.30. I was pleased to see a good turnout from last season's squad, which I was anticipating, as a number of players tweeted earlier in the month that they were enjoying training sessions, but feeling it the following morning.

We planned a different Prescot team in each half. The first half team were sporting the new season's home kit. We have the Puma kit from last season, tending towards the orange end of amber, sponsored again by PMB Tools, with a shirt back sponsor, Britannia Taxis. A priority of the match day photographer is not just to capture the action, or make the players look good, but also to give the sponsors the exposure they are paying for. So, we can expect more shots from this angle!

Joe Nicholson take a free kick

The side for the first half was the stronger of the two, and we were quickly ahead through another Joe Nicholson free kick. I was then in just the right position for Lloyd Dean to score from a penalty into the neat new goal nets.

I once worked with some French people, who wore coloured socks socks matching their shirts or ties. One gentleman, noticing on the way to work that his socks did not match his shirt, went home to change. This thinking seems to have affected the compilers of the Laws of Association Football, who have tightened up on colour matching: undershirts and undershorts must match the dominant colour of shirts or shorts; and sock tape needs to match the dominant colour of socks. I am not sure what the rule was before, but practice was to match a colour, so ours allowed for black undershirts. Not only that, but undergarments and tape must also match the rest of the team. I can see the point of this in professional competition rules, but it seems excessive to incorporate it into the Laws. Those who move clubs will accumulate a large wardrobe. They have not stipulated matching boots yet, but watch this space.

Jacob Jomes

The management were kitted out in neat new training kit.

Tony Carrroll and Roy Grundy

Tony Carroll has returned as Injury Assessor, after a couple of years accumulating stories about working with Shaun Reid - which he seems unfortunately reluctant to tell us!

The visitors' goalkeeper was injured after about 20 minutes, and, without a replacement, I think the teams decided it would be good experience for all concerned if we lent them one of ours.

The second half team was composed of a mixture of younger players with First team experience, some from trials, and some who were unable to play many games last season due to long term injuries. This team used the new away kit. Both are available from the new online club shop (and the table in the bar when the season gets under way).

Connor Grainger advertises the new away kit

There was an encouraging performance from both teams, winning 4-1 in the first half and 2-1 in the second.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen on the club website here and on Google Photos here.

I knew not whether I was in England or Wales

Having been thwarted in my attempt to start my season the previous week, I decided my football should include a proper day out. FC Oswestry Town, another new club in the North West Counties League, fitted the bill, and a 5pm kick off gave me time to potter around taking more general pictures. I started in Shrewsbury: in England with Welsh police cars outside the station. I did not make it to the town of Oswestry: on a humid day I elected for air conditioning, a cold, non-alcoholic drink and some carbs in one of Messrs Costa's more historic establishments before catching the bus.

Once on board, I followed the stops on Herr Arriva's tracker, which kept up well - I find it is two or three stops behind the bus in the city. At least it worked when connected to Mr EE's signal, present at least in the parts where a few people live. I rang the bell just after the stop before mine: unfortunately the driver thought I had missed my stop and helpfully pulled up straight away. Not having consulted Mr Google's Street View, I did not realise I was a good few hundred yards short of where I wanted to be.

I therefore arrived a few minutes late, and followed the sign to the turnstiles to find them closed. The club may in any event have been admitting spectators through the clubhouse. There was a gate open, so I went in. I found a neat ground with a 3G pitch, two blocks of seating and a large clubhouse with a balcony. Oh, and the most substantial dugouts I have seen, even if they incorporate a camera gantry.

I stood in the shadow of the clubhouse to assess the light and cool down after my longer than anticipated walk. As I have no connection to either club, it was not going to be a problem if I did not catch the whole game. Once I was ready, about 25 minutes in, I took up position by the side of the pitch, more towards the end the visitors were attacking.

The score was 1-1 when I arrived, and, having no proprietorial interest in the outcome, I failed to record the order of the goals in what transpired to be a free scoring game.

Oswestry is close to the Welsh border, one of the few towns in England that also has a Welsh name (Croesoswallt) on Ordnance Survey maps. The visitors clearly identified which end of the ground was nearer to Wales.

At half time, I went in to the clubhouse. The signs were a little confusing, telling spectators that toilet and bar facilities were available upstairs in the Venue (the name of the bar and function room), but not adjacent to any stairs that lead there, apart from one flight at the end of the building with a large sign indicating the corporate hospitality entrance. I took the risk of offending the cream of Oswestry's business community, went upstairs, and found myself in the main bar.

Back outside for the second half, a club official, who was multitasking as the tannoy announcer, match secretary and fourth official, asked if I needed a team sheet. I said it would be handy, expecting a photocopy or one he could hold up for me to photograph, taking only a moment of his time. When he started what looked likely to be an extended rummage through his papers I quickly assured him it was not essential.

The hosts had the better of the second half, running out 4-3 winners, and, judging by the retweets, the clubs were happy with the pictures. Having seen a couple of the clubs expanding the North West Counties League to its full complement, I am sure they will provide good competition, and bring some excellent facilities into the league.

Whilst bus routes from Oswestry, Shrewsbury and Gobowen pass near the ground, services run down from 6pm, so I had half hour's walk on a pleasant evening to the train at Gobowen. I had to check the map to confirm this village is in England: Wikipedia gives us a couple of Welsh derivations for its name, one from a pillow used by Owain Glyndŵr, and another from a mine owned by someone else called Owen.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here,

Final score: FC Oswestry Town 4 CPD Porthmadog 3

Dressed up and nowhere to go

Attending pre season games can be something of a lottery. This is not just in the quality of football, anything from a squad complete from last year, to one hastily assembled a day or two before. The latter can still produce quality, the lad who looks too young to be there can be your favourite player by the end of the season.

The other lottery is whether there is a game. When I started watching, fixtures were copied by hand, omitting the crucial detail that the game was at Trub & Slattocks FC (real places, sadly no football club), and you did not always hear a game had been cancelled. With websites and Twitter, clubs can get information to those who might be interested. However, "can" does not always mean "do", as we were to find out.

I had promised Matt from the Lost Boyos that I would join one of his trips before he moves to Slovakia next month. He suggested Atherton Collieries opening their centenary season against Bolton Wanderers, which raised an historical question - how did they find time or personnel to found a football club in 1916? Having missed that, the next opportunity was at Styal, entertaining North West Counties new club Prestwich Heys. I forgot to say I was coming, so I planned to go straight to the village's public house, the excellent Ship Inn, but the weather meant talk of matches rained off, so I found Matt in the Piccadilly Tap, sporting an emergency replacement flat cap. We were joined by Gibbo and his travelling companions: Zach, also from Atherton, and Rob, studying in Sheffield. Having been assured the game was on, we took the train.

This looks like a running in board from the 1960 electrification

Walking the 200 yards from the Ship to the ground, we found not only a lack of football, but a marquee in construction on the pitch. A telephone call confirmed the fact neither club mentioned on Twitter: they were playing at Trub & Slattocks, or at least the other side of the airport. Finding this, and that it was an hour and a half to the next train, Gibbo pointed out a tea shop, but his desire for a cup of Lapsang souchong and a slice of lemon drizzle was outvoted by the rest of us returning to the Ship.

Back in Manchester, Gibbo and Zach went off to the wedding of Collieries manager Michael Clegg, which they gave as the reason for not having a game of their own. In this situation I recall Horace Whalley, Prescot Cables' goalkeeper in 1935, who was married one Saturday morning, and that afternoon kept a clean sheet in a 10-0 win against Harrowby in the FA Cup. O tempora, o mores!

The rest of the pictures ... er, actually it is just the one above!