Welling up

Up until the 19th century, Welling in Kent was a favourite haunt of highwaymen. They found great joy in concealing themselves in the heavy woodland that surrounded the town. The fact that Welling was also a big stopover for coaches to and from London, meant that the pickings were generally pretty good.

The coming of the trains dried up the victims and, subsequently, sent the highwaymen packing. Also, these days, there is very little woodland to hide in.

Before last night, I’d never even heard of Welling, let alone know about highwaymen using it as a sort of golden pathway to riches or prison. In fact, had Aldershot remained in the football league this season, I’d probably still be completely unaware of Welling.

But, as we all know, Aldershot was relegated to the Conference this season and a whole new bunch of football grounds are ripe for visiting. Welling was our destination last night.

It’s a long drive so Nicktor decided to take the afternoon off before calling at the house. He also took the opportunity to have his tyres checked, gasped at and then replaced. The tyre guy recoiled in horror when he looked at the inside of the front tyres, showing Nicktor a radical gash on one which he declared ‘fit to burst’…literally.

The tyre replacing meant we had a chance to grab a swift pint down at the Albion while waiting for the car. It was then off into the park to take the poodles for a walk to the castle before heading out to Farnborough to pick up Bill and then onto Welling.

The first pub we entered didn’t do food so we moved on to the Wetherspoons for the usual dinner. This was probably the highlight of the night because the football certainly wasn’t.

Aldershot have been playing very well for a team of players who didn’t know each other before the first game of the season. We’ve managed to claw back a position in the table from our start at -10 points but tonight we had no answer for Welling. Granted, the Welling defence was pretty impenetrable but even so, the last ditch resort of just kicking the ball high and upfield proved as unfruitful as it always does as every ball (and I don’t exaggerate) was won in the air by them.

Still, it wasn’t so much that we played badly and without spirit – we fought to the end – but more that they were better than us. Welling deserved the win and were probably surprised to only get one goal. They had an amazing amount of chances, mostly due to all the corners we conceded, but we managed to keep them out of the net. Our chances, on the other hand, were few and far between.

So, rather than a bubbly, joyful drive home, the three of us were candidates for the misery farm as we raced around the M25 for home.

It’s always good to go to the football and it’s nice to visit a new ground but it’s always better when you win.