I Predict A Riot

Despite a London fixture, it was still a relatively early start to the day as John Wilson and I popped to Maries by Waterloo station for breakfast - not up to the high exacting standards that we're used from here to but still better than most.

As we got to the tube, the place was swarming with people clutching various banners and placards - all going to a demo in the centre of London, possibly against the G20 thingy - they all looked quite reasonable folk and not the hard-core protesters that are predicted for later in the week.

It reminded us both of that fateful day back in March 1990 when we beat Barnet 2-0 in the Conference after which we were given a Northern Line express tube journey back into central London to find out that anarchy (or as close as this country gets) had broken out in the form of the Poll Tax riots.

Perhaps this was a good omen for the day?

On arrival at Barnet, we met Steve Duffy and Trevor Rutter and we headed to our first point of call, a Fullers outlet, the White Lion. We were very disappointed to find it only had one beer on - Pride - but it was in very good nick.

After a couple of pints, we moved onto another new place - the Lord Nelson - which is a Youngs pub. Already ensconced were Colin, Argyle fan Geoff plus John Bell and a couple of his buddies, including Rod who had already savoured one Darlo victory this season - at Dagenham - so hopefully he'd be another lucky omen for us.

Our final pre-match pub was the Olde Mitre - the quality and variety of beers here have been very disappointing in recent years though comments on beerintheevening.com had suggested the place was improving. Nevertheless, we decided to just have the one in here.

There seem to be three regular beers - Black Sheep, Adnams Broadside and GK Abbot - plus a guest beer which on this occasion was Mr Tod from the Fox Beer Company so we opted for that. It was a 4.2% beer - produced by a former head brewer at Tetleys apparently - quite a light beer, not much taste and of a rather dull condition - which was not really surprising as it went off just after we'd bought our pints.

We managed to get to Underhill just in time for kick-off and we made sure that we were stood with Colin. The reason was that the referee for the game was Premiership official, Alan Wiley, and since Colin is well known for his loud ranting at officials, it would be interesting to see how he coped with one of the top refs.

During the first-half there was ample scope for him - Danny Carlton was taken out at one point whilst poor Ricky Ravenhill was on the receiving end of some nasty tackles on several occasions (though unkind commentators might say that is karma in action). Wiley was lenient in the extreme and Barnet were lucky to keep eleven players on their famous slope.

Barnet had gone closest in the first half, hitting the woodwork (which is off-target in my book) whilst Calyton Fortune skied a good opportunity at the other end.

In the second half, Colin found that Matt Lockwood, formerly of Orient, was down our side and he proceeded to give him a load of gip. Surprisingly, Lockwood took it well and even shouted something witty and polite back which rather non-plussed our Eastwood Dynamo.

We were also privy to some excellent play from Abbot - including the odd nutmeg - and he was on the end of some good work on the left-wing from Danny Carlton to put us in the lead.

Thereafter we were under the cosh somewhat and the defence stood up to most of it with Alan White playing a blinder - what they missed was either saved by Oakes or blasted over by the Barnet forward line.

Oakes was taken off with an ankle injury with towards the end of the game after what looked to be an innocuous clash with Paul Furlong - cue reserve keeper Kazimierczak and a severe bout of jitters for the Darlo fans - would our young Pole rise to the occasion?

Oh me of litte faith! He did us proud with at least two wonderful saves which along with a goal-line clearance from Rob Purdie saw us run down the clock for our first win here for 13 years. Very sweet.

Post-match celebrations were held at the Wenlock Arms, just off the City Road, which is a very well-known pub for we beardy-weirdies. Suffice to say it had the usual array of interesting beers and we were able to watch England trounce Slovakia. Various DAFTS drifted off to catch trains home leaving just John, Geoff and myself - when the jazz band started we called it a day...

Piglet 8

A reminder to readers based in London that Leyton Orient Supporters Club are running one of their small festivals - known as Piglets - later this week.

I'm going to be there on the Thursday - on previous visits there has always been a great selection of about 25-30 keenly-priced real ales and ciders - many of them tick-worthy if that's your thing - plus plenty of tasty rolls.

More details can be found here including the beer list - including details of their next Real Ale Thursday next month when they'll be featuring beers from local brewery, Brodies.

Shots Down In Flames

As I'd been visiting my Mum in Northallerton for a few days, it was nice to have only a ten-minute train journey through to Darlo for our game against Aldershot.

Breakfast was taken at the apostrophe-free Rockys Tasty Bites on Victoria Road - this had been recommended to me and it has to be said that the Rooster breakfast had about everything you could want in a breakfast but was probably not the thing to eat before trudging up the hill to Ballantynes hotel to meet Steve.

We had been hoping today would afford us a good opportunity to finally get some decent shots of the Northern Echo Arena for the DAFTS site - and since it was a bright, sunny spring day we drove on down there.

(left) North and East Stands of the Arena

After a few minutes wandering around the exterior of the stadium, we were approached by Paul the stadium maintenance manager who was curious as to what we were doing. After a quick chat he could see we were friendly and let us into the ground so I could get some interior shots - the first time I'd been pitch side for quite a few seasons.

Paul originally came to Darlo as one of George Reynold's team and has worked hard at looking after the ground ever since - his recent tasks have varied from tarting up the dressing rooms for Elton John's visit last summer through to three days spent repairing the recently wrecked toilets under the south stand (the mind boggles at the idiocy of the fans who did this to their own ground)!

(right) The less well known nature area of the Arena

Following a good bout of snapping from all angles, we headed back into town and joined up with Cath before heading down to the Quaker. Still no sign of a new name over the door so we've still got Linda and Steve providing a great choice of beers.

It looked as it would just be the three of us for the day as we headed up to Number Twenty-2 - although we did bump into Aldershot fan, Jim, who I'd met briefly in the White Lion when I last visited the Recreation Ground earlier in the season.

We arrived at the ground about 20 minutes before kick-off and I managed to buy one of the last campaign t-shits with Dave Penney on the front doing his best Lord Kitchener impersonation. I've not tried it yet but it appears to be a one-size-fits-all. So that will be snug then!

The game was a bit of a stuttering affair in the first half - Aldershot had probably more chances than Darlo, most courtesy of their on-loan striker Jake Robinson but the linesman managed to thwart him on the rare occasions he escaped the clutches of the defence. Oakes also made a couple of decent saves.

We were all prepared for a nil-nil scoreline at half-time when Curtis Main popped up and neatly passed the ball into the net following a partially cleared corner - there were a few half-hearted offside appeals from the Shots defence but to no avail - the ref was not for turning. A great boost for half-time.

The second half was not much different from the first - fairly even - and following a great tackle from skipper Foster to prevent what looked like an equaliser, a tidy piece of work from Rob Purdie (my MotM) and a neat finish from Danny Carlton put the Quakers two up and gave Darlo a bit of breathing space with about 20 minutes to go.

The game should have been wrapped up beyond any doubt when Carlton had an open goal but he blazed wide. Nevertheless we held out without too much trouble and earned what was a good three points without playing particularly well.

(above) The replica engine plate in reception

The journey home was going to be a bit of a stuttering affair too - the normal 17:57 service would go no further than Huntingdon - from there it was a slow bus journey to Hatfield with a driver who had a worrying habit of catching the kerb on bends. I was on my own too since Martin was too ill to travel - it's not often we see that.

We finally made it to Hatfield in one piece and thanks to Jim and a couple of his Aldershot mates, I avoided getting the slow train to Kings Cross, catching a fast train instead just a few minutes later, which meant I was in the Betjeman Arms for 21:30 for drinks with the London Millers.

This allowed me to finally try the Betjeman Ale brewed specially for the pub by Sharp's - it's quite light at 3.6% but is a surprisingly drinkable quaffing beer - and it seems in much better condition that the others on cask. DAFTS Recommended!

Time To Draw A Vale

Probably the one redeeming feature of a train journey from Euston is it allows me to sample the delights of the Double Six where I can have a great breakfast and listen to the cabbies yakking like only cabbies can. I know it's stereotypical but it is true - they do talk bollocks.

I was worried that I might get caught up in the frantic hordes heading to Manchester for the early kick-off - some team in red versus some other team in red - but I found that I was on a slow train to Crewe and it was quite a relaxing journey, especially being in first class (it was cheap).

Arriving at Stoke I bumped into various other DAFTS - including Howard and Martin who had set off after me but had overtaken my train at some point. Martin had left the rail tickets for their trip at home - not the first time he's done that this season unfortunately - and as he didn't have time to go back, he had to buy new ones to get them both to Stoke. At almost £100 he was not a happy chappy.

From Stoke we took the short trip by train to Longport and then had a mini-route march to the Bulls Head pub in Burslem. Along the way we lost Tony, Ray and Lance - or rather they lost us as we sprinted to the pub, arriving just a few minutes after opening.

However we'd been beaten to the pub by Paul and Mary - a couple of Leicester City fans who also follow Darlo - and who Steve and I had last met down in Exeter.

The Bulls Head is the brewery tap for the Titanic Brewery and as the sign outside says, it welcomes away fans. I've been a fan of their beers for several years as they rarely disappoint - and so we took full advantage of the wide range on offer - Steerage, Anchor, Iceberg and New World plus some more of the McConnell Stout from Thornbridge that we sampled in Number Twenty-2 last weekend.

Interestingly they have their own stout on keg - it would have been nice to have the cask version again as it's an addictive pint - but apparently if they have it on keg it means that they don't need to stock Guinness - and who can blame them? At least they'll be spared the St Paddy's day tat that they hand out in a few days time.

Once again we were taxing pints at £1 a pint and most people were more than willing to contribute - predictably the conversation was mainly centred around the club's chances of survival and the recent decline in form. No wonder we're driven to drink.

From the Bull's Head, we walked passed a shop called What Women Want. Neil couldn't resist the photo opportunity.

It's just a short walk to Vale Park - a new ground for me this season - and on arrival I bumped into Geoff, one of the leading lights of the Darlo Tykes, who proceeded to take £20 off me for some raffle tickets. Not everyone would get away with this but Geoff and I grew up together and we started going to see Darlo with each other in the 70s.

On the pitch, the early signs looked good as Darlo played the ball around well. And after about half an hour it looked like our luck had changed as Danny Carlton put us in front. However just before the break, the defence dithered and allowed Vale to equalise with a bit of a jammy deflected shot.

In the second half Vale came more into the game and took the lead - I thought Oakes might have done better but that may be unkind. I missed their third goal as I'd gone to the loo in the hope I might miss us scoring - well, it worked against Macclesfield last week. There was a goal but it was simply the final nail in our coffin for this particular game.

We got a taxi back to Stoke railway station and after some pleading with the train conductor, I was allowed to catch an earlier train and travel back with Martin, Howard and Chris. A pleasant journey too - the Manure fans on board were suitably subdued- and with only one stop we were back in Euston by 7:30pm.

Still time for a couple of beers at the Doric Arch to mull over the day's events - then after Howard and Martin left I got talking to some well-oiled Wolves fans before being rescued by the London Millers who had just returned from their victory at Rochdale. They were extolling the virtues of the Baum, a pub I aim to visit when we play there next month.

Medway Misery

I was a little early at London Bridge for my train to Gillingham and as I was a bit peckish, I got the opportunity to visit what is supposed to be the oldest pie and mash shop in London, Manze's on Tower Bridge Road.

Apparently the liquor here is "uniquely different" (err...of course) to other pie and mash shops due to some secret ingredients - I suspect that it's something that removes the flavour as this was probably the most tasteless I've ever had. I'm beginning to think that my local shop rules...

A nice quiet journey down to the Medway - just before the rush hour - and not one I've made for many years. The town of Rochester is the highlight and since it apparently has some decent pubs, it could be somewhere we'll be popping to in the close season.

For today though it's Gillingham and on arrival I head off to the Frog and Toad - just two guest beers on, Fullers Pride and Otter Amber. I have a couple of pints of the latter and listen to the handful of locals bemoan the lack of business (they're builders) - seems a friendly enough place though.

My next port of call is closed but I had expected that - it's the Roseneath on Arden Street - this was a nostaligic visit to a pub that we used a lot when we came to games here in the 90s - the highlight of which was the 4-0 thrashing of Brighton in 1999 which saw a Gabbiadini hat-trick - the beer tasted great that day.

Sadly the place is now closed, one of the many pubs now heading for redevelopment into private residences - once they're gone, they're gone for good.

The next venue, the Will Adams, is closed when I get there - ever prepared though, I've got the number of the pub and give them a call - I'm told it will be open at 5:30pm as there's a match on and so I have a wander for 15 mins. There's not a lot to see in Gillingham, believe me.

Just two beers on in the Will Adams when I finally get in - Landlord and Summer Ligtning - but the landlord Peter is putting on a new barrel which turns out to be Harveys Best.

Peter is a keen Gills fan and like we in DAFTs, he's a veteran of many way trips in the lower leagues and inevitably we end comparing our experiences from our away visits this season.

After a few pints, I'm joined by Iain Swalwell and then John Wilson and after a couple more pints of Harveys we trundle off to Priestfield.

This is a ground that has undergone quite a lot of development since my last visit - the FA Cup defeat in 1999 when we were given another chance as the lucky losers and ended up with a plum tie at Villa Park. Gillingham for their part had a great cup run that season which ended in a 5-0 quarter-final defeat away at Stamford Bridge.

The away end is at one side of the Brian Moore stand - an open terrace of the temporary sort you see at the major tennis and golf events - thankfully the forecasted rain holds off for the game as we'd have got soaked.

That was the only luck we got though - a bit of a cobbled together side with players playing out of position - put in a very hard-working performance, frustrated the Gills for most of the game, defended well and even had a few chances of their own.

It is debateable whether we had an element of luck after the ref blew for a foul by Valentine whilst Gillingham had played on and scored.

But to lose in the last minute of injury time was so cruel - a very harsh penalty after the ball seemed to bounce up and hit White's hand - hardly deliberate - but it summed up the lack of luck we've had this season.

Not surprisingly, the players looked utterly dejected as they trooped off at the final whistle but were still heartily cheered by the 70 or so Darlo fans who'd made the trip to this distant corner.

Let's hope they can pick themselves up for Saturday's game at Vale Park - we need to nip this losing streak in the bud.

Mis-Fortune

Brian was already in the pub by the time I got to the Quaker so I got my beer and together we made the first contributions to the DAFTS Beer Tax.

George, one of the 11am regulars at the Quaker, was a bit curious about our little collecting bottle and contributed £1 as well. Good man! Only another £299, 998 to go.
We then got talking to a guy who was a Sheffield United fan and who told us that the stadium had been bought by an Arab and would be dismantled and shipped over there. Cue incredulity from Brian and me - where do people get these ideas?

Tony and Colin then joined us - and so the contributions to the fund continued as we had more beers - before I headed off to Number Twenty-2. I found John and Bev hovering outside - she was itching to go elsewhere to watch the first-half of the Chelsea game. And so she did.

As I was about to get some snaps of the boys and our little DAFTS Tax bottle, I received a call from the Guardian football columnist, David Conn. David is an old chum of ours and was down at Feethams with a photographer, trying to find a way into the ground and see what was left of the old girl, prior to his doing a piece about Darlo's current troubles in the Guardian. I don't think he had expected the place to be quite as barren and flattened as it is.

Whilst David went off to do his research, we got back to raising some glasses - and more money for the cause. One of the barmen approached us to see if we wanted some takeaway pies. Apparently it was British Pie Week - I don't know how that slipped past me - but it seems they'd made too many and did we want to buy them?

Most of us had been to Taylors and were well provisioned but Brian and Tony were pastry-less and so bought a couple - and very nice they were too judging by the speed with which they were eaten.

I got a further phone call - again escaping the usual Number Twenty-2 mobile fine - this time from a Colchester fan, Martyn Stimson, who we'd meet earlier in the season before our game at Aldershot. Martyn and a chum had come up to make a groundhopping first visit to the Arena as well as visit as many of Darlo's decent pubs as they could.

After supping some wonderful stout (McConnells from the wonderful Thornbridge Brewery), we all taxi-ed down to the stadium - I wandered to reception and bumped into David Conn who was chatting with one of the administrators (who barely looked out of school!).

Reception looked a bit gloomy without the smiling face of Helen on reception - Karen from the Supporters Club was standing in for her and had a big collecting bucket so I deposited the tax we'd collected at lunchtime.

Thankfully block 11 seemed to be quite free of the West Stand hordes - Tony and Brian were down in front of us in their lucky seats whilst behind us we had my compatriots, the Darlo Tykes, in the executive boxes displaying their usual level of sophistication and wit.

The game was awful - we were poor, Macc were poor and the ref was poor - we suffered further injures and silly bookings and then the icing on the cake - a needless challenge by Clayton Fortune in the box on a player who was happy to go down.

Flag, Whistle, Penalty. Goodnight Vienna.

So the journey back promised to be a bit miserable for Martin and I but Martyn and his chum joined us and we had a good natter about football, grounds and pubs all the way back to King's Cross.

Over the road in St Pancras, the Betjeman Arms was having a beer festival so Martin and I wandered in - he likes the odd pint of real ale now and again - and before too long, we were joined by a horde of London Millers fresh from their sponsorship day and a nil-nil with Brentford.

I was quite surprised by the range of beers on offer, the majority straight from the barrel - a few I'd never come across before as well as some old favourites such as Woodforde Wherry and Oakham JHB. At least the day finished on a high as I savoured a beautiful pint of Naked Ladies, courtesy of the Twickenham Brewery...

David's piece on Darlo's current plight can be found here and go here to see some of the photos taken during his visit.

DAFTS Beer Tax

As a group, DAFTS are not exactly the youngest kids on the block and so far as doing our bit towards raising money to keep Darlo afloat is concerned, we're not up to sponsored walks or anything else which requires expending energy - other than perhaps Howard on his bike but that would require him to don his Lycra gear and quite frankly, that doesn't bear thinking about. Even Mr Motivator had more taste...

Therefore we're levying a beer tax on ourselves from tomorrow - £1 per pint each - to try and swell the club's coffers as well as our bladders.


And there's nothing to stop those DAFTS who are not going to the game from doing their bit - simply put £1 aside each time you go to the bar or have a pint at home.

Then send your money to the "Save Darlington FC Ltd Fund" at the Co-operative Bank between now and the end of the season. The account number is: 70930812 and the sort code is 08-90-75. Get drinking!

And be warned - next week's game at Port Vale may see an additional pork scratchings levy so stock up on your small change (and your Simvastatin tablets!).

No Gifts From These Grecians

An overrun of tube engineering works on an already reduced service meant that I was delayed so both Martin and Howard beat me to breakfast. Raffles is the best of a mediocre bunch in this neck of the woods and whilst it was filling, it was a bit of a non-descript effort.

A further delay on the train leaving Paddington due to "a technical hitch" was looking like a bad omen for the day but in the end it was only for ten minutes and once we were underway, our mood improved - plenty of birdwatching for me as the train went on the scenic route to Exeter - jays, buzzards, kites, egrets and the odd deer kept me occupied.

Steve Duffy was already ensconced when we entered the Great Western Hotel just by the station - often the local CAMRA pub of the year with a very good choice of mainly local breweries - we started on the pale but interesting O'Hanlon's Yellow Hammer before shifting onto the RCH Pitchfork - both very tasty.

Howard and Martin were keen for a wander round the city centre so supped up and caught a bus into town. Steve and I went to the Well House - a pub bang opposite the cathedral.

The last time we were drinking here was in Feb 2000 (a 4-1 victory) when George Reynolds was holding court in the pub - it being the early days of his reign when he wasn't the persona non grata that he is now.

We tried quite a few of the local brews on offer here - Otter, Cottage Wessex Porter, Red Rock and even a pint of Richs Farmhouse cider to clear my palate. Howard rejoined us after a while, muttering about the lack of decent pies (and pasties) to be found.

From the Well House, it was just a short walk to St James Park - the Darlo fans were on the small terrace behind the goal - very cosy but more than enough space for the 177 fans who'd made the trip.

I've always liked this ground, especially the Cowshed, their equivalent of the TinShed, which was constructed several years ago as a new standing terrace - nice to see that Exeter decided to listen to their fans and not simply turn everything into seated terracing.

It makes for a good atmosphere and is reminiscent of the home end at Aldershot.

I bumped into an old compadre from the Isle of Man tour days, Gavin Ellis, who was wandering around with a grimace on his face - he said this was due to his anger with the chairman getting us into so much debt plus his new Doc Marten's were giving him gip. He wasn't a happy chappy but being the trouper that he is, he still managed to treat anyone within earshot to one of his "jokes" - is there no end to the misery we have to suffer as fans? More corn than Kelloggs...

The Quakers were fielding a depleted team - no Gerken, Foster, Ravenhill or Hatch - and we started the game a little gingerly, defending well for the most part but not offering much in the way of attack. And we certainly had no help from referee Atwell after being on the wrong end of some decidedly OTT tackles, especially on poor old Danny Carlton, but we managed to go in level at half time.

The second half started much as the first half finished and a nil-nil was starting to look a possibility when the ref lived up to his past exploits and awarded a dodgy penalty for a handball in the area by Neil Austin. Given the speed the ball was travelling, it could only have been ball to hand but this new ref seems determined to prove he's his own man.

The goal had more of an affect on the home team and we would have been further behind if not for a couple of great saves from Oakes. I've never been totally happy when he's been in goal but today he couldn't have done much better.

Any lingering hope of getting anything out of the game though was extinguished with less than ten minutes to play when the Grecians got a second from a header. No way back after that.

The defeat we could just about handle - but Abbot going off injured and then White getting sent off just leads me to believe that someone, somewhere has it in for us.

After the game we returned to the Great Western hotel - the place was a bit busy as they were getting ready to show the England-Ireland game at Twickenham. Exhibiting our usual disdain for rugby union, we sat under the TV so we didn't have to watch it.

Another pint of Pitchfork and then a half of the beautiful O'Hanlon Port Stout - smooth as a baby's bottom and absolutely divine - a shame we had to leave and catch our train.

A decent day out, result notwithstanding - I only hope we're still around to make a return visit next season...