Back to the Future Part One

Life is all about milestones.

First tooth lost.
First day at school.
First Poppies game.
First hangover.
First day at work.
First grey hair.
First kiss from a girl (note to self - must edit to put this earlier on list...)

Another sign that the more youthful phase of your life is behind you is the changing nature of your away day Poppies experience.  Only five minutes seem to have elapsed since a good away trip meant staggering from bed at the crack of dawn, about an hour after you got in on Friday night.  Boarding the coach to God alone knows where (you automatically booked the previous week).  3 hour beer stop on the way to the game.  90 minutes of cheering Peter Morris's team of middle-aged journeymen to a 0-0 draw.  And then a further 3 hour beer and curry stop on the way home. 

If you were lucky you managed to stay awake during the coach journey and repel Hamish's attempts to drown you in his moist armpit.  If you were unlucky and fell asleep, Ivan Long would probably entertain himself by rubbing his lower portions into your slumbering face!  Or setting fire to his pubes.  Or yours.

I'd like to think little has changed since those care-free days, except any parts which include Hamish and Ivan of course.

However, under scrutiny, I have to confess that my current away day schedule does vary a little from the ones of more youthful days.  I don't remember that the proximity of National Trust properties or Cathedrals used to have much influence over my attending away fixtures.  Nor do I recall especially noting if the away game was close to a pleasant stretch of coast.  Or whether we could book a nice B&B adjacent to a sight of natural beauty, or historic City centre. 

I also don't recollect being especially bothered if there was a guaranteed trip home, let alone the proximity of a pleasant RSPB reserve!