It's Panto Season...

As I was up on my annual pre-Christmas trip to see the family in Northallerton, I was able to have a lie-in and still be in Darlo by 9:30am. This early start was to allow Tony the chance to take me somewhere for breakfast.

We settled on the cafe which sits above the covered market and overlooks High Row. The full breakfast was excellent - good to have a bit of fried bread for a change - and it was nice to eat whilst watching everyone rushing around doing their Christmas shopping.

Once fueled, we have a leisurely stroll around town and pop along to get some pies for Howard and Martin who were travelling up from King's Cross.

And then having exhausted shops to wander in as we try to waste time, we get to the Quakerhouse about 10:55am - they're open and they let us in.

For once we beat regulars George and Gwyn to the bar although a Bradford ticker did actually get in the beers in first - very rude but he looked a bit of a ticker and generally their human-skills tend to be a bit lacking.

The beers on parade were as follows: Coach House - Dick Turpin and Coachmans; Rudgate - Good, Better and Best; Hadrian & Border - Tyneside Brown; Vale - Winter Solstice; Marston Moor Brewery - Cock Caper and Winters Tail; Hambleton - Stallion; Woods - Quaff and finally York - Nippy Nights. I'm sure the ticker was impressed.

We'd just got our first beers when John Bell joined us - a change of routine as he normally meets us after he's been to the Brit.

(left) John and Tony audition for the Sound of Music

And then the Sheffield contingent arrived - Brian and Trevor are joined by their mate, Richard, who is a Monkeyhanger. Despite this aberration he was made welcome.

This being December, it seems a collective decision was made to don Xmas headware - in this case the black and white "Bah Humbug" hats. Unfortunately due to the size of my brain box, none of these would fit me.

John Wilson pops in whilst wife Bev is busy shopping - there can't be many football-supporting couples that top and tail the divisions with Bev's Chelsea-mob riding high and the Quakers holding up the rest of the teams.

After trying a good few beers, John and I wander up to Twenty-2 where we bump into Durham Tony. I get chatting to one of the regulars that I've got to know in there over the years - Colin - who has just recently been diagnosed with Parkinson's. He's taking a very positive attitude and making sure he comes out to the pub as he's always done.

The rest of the gang then catch up with us and we nab a nice seat in the front window. There's a lovely stout on today from Marston Moor and it's going down very nicely.

At 2:30pm we pile into our taxis - we have a novice driver who takes us the long way round and by the time we get to the ground the others have overtaken us.

I wander into the club shop as I've heard they've finally got some decent clobber in but the shelves are almost bare. There is a nice managers-style coat - only £35 - but it has a loose thread and there are no others in my size.

(right) A Happy Bah Humbug to all our readers

Up in the stands the East Stand is looking very empty and forlorn - thankfully Bradford have brought a few fans and so we should exceed the 2,000 mark.

As reported in the press, there's no Foster on duty due - although he's on the bench - but there's no sign of Miller either which leaves a relatively inexperienced (for us) pairing in central defence.

The team come out to a muted welcome - it's as if nobody is really looking forward to this game - it's clear that Brian isn't as he is soon asleep, safe in the land of the nod.

Meanwhile the rest of us have to watch the game and for the main, we struggle to retain possession against a busy Bradford outfit that can sense nervous prey.

We're 1-0 down after about 20 minutes - a corner is taken and Liversedge looks as if he's coming to collect then scrambles back when it's clear he can't reach it. The ball is volleyed in from about 12 yards - the defence look at each other and the keeper shouts at them though I feel he could have done better.

(left) Brian tunes out...

We struggle for the remainder of the half - it's not pretty and to be fair, we do well to be only one down at the break. There's been a lot of talk about players being played out of position but it's difficult to keep track as our 40th player of the season makes his debut today.

As the whistle blows, the Sheffield mob take a leaf out of my book and wander off to the pub. Tony is tempted to join them but stays.

The second half is a much improved from Darlo's perspective - the anonymous and apparently uninterested Diop is replaced by Collins and then Main and Convery are sent on to try and find a way through.

It's not long before Tony weakens and leaves to join the Sheffield mob but it has to be said that the second half is an improvement - it would be difficult to be otherwise - but we never really look like scoring against a fairly solid Bradford back four with Darlo old boy Clarke sporting a bandage.

The game meanders to a close and as the referee blows, I rush off to catch the shuttle bus back into town. On board there is much grumbling from long-time fans - "the worst side we've ever seen", "the club are not listening", "we're doomed" - it's not nice to hear this but who can really blame the fans?

Back in town, I pop in for a quickie in the Quakerhouse - spookily quiet - and then pop back to Number Twenty-2 where John and Bev are waiting. There's no more stout so I make do with Burton Ale - something I've not drunk for years - and then Burtonwood Top Hat.

It's nice and warm in here and I could stay all night but I resist and head back to Northallerton and the curry house. Not up to East End standards of course but any port in a storm...