A brief interlude. We were due to leave for the New Forest after Lisa’s departure and, since she wasn’t leaving until about 7am, on the spur of the moment I decided to go into London and see the Chelsea victory parade.
Lots of fans were already at Haslemere station when I joined them, the swarm gradually increasing as we arrived at Wimbledon. In an excellent piece of timing, the District Line was closed for engineering so a replacement bus service ferried 1,000s of fans to Putney. The traffic was terrible so a 10 minute journey turned into 45 minutes!
We hopped off the bus early and I just followed the biggest crowd to the station then on to Fulham Broadway. Here we were greeted by a confusing sea of shouting souvenir sellers – it felt like Bali without the bargaining! I bought a scarf and just kept following the crowds – not that I had a lot of choice. I somehow managed to find a spot opposite Stamford Bridge though about eight people back from the road.
Chelsea parade the cups
We all then waited about an hour amid songs, hooters, whistles and much jollity until the bus arrived with the triumphant Messrs Lampard and Terry either side of the Championship Cup. Pride welled up as the noise and singing increased. At the back of the bus stood the manager and as it rolled away, a lusty burst of “Jose Mouriniho, Jose Mouriniho” rung out.
And it was over. Less than five minutes. Just before we all left, a TV camera crew turned it’s camera on us and we all sang “Arsenal, are you watching this?” to rapturous reception. It was then the long trek back. Many buses and trains later I was eventually back at Haslemere by 3:15. I’d left at 8:50 and back by 3:40 all for 4 minutes! Was it worth it? Oooo yeah!! The papers say there were around 200,000 fans and I was one of them. What a moment. Glorious!
I walked into the house to be welcomed by 2 over-excited poodles and a happy Mirinda & Lisa sitting on the lounges chatting.
“Hi,” I said “What are they doing here?”
The look on Mirinda’s face was priceless. The last thing I’d said before leaving was to take them to the Forge, which closes at 1pm on a Sunday. Mirinda quickly rang them and managed to sweet talk her way into bringing them over late. Apparently Lisa is more absent-minded than Mirinda. Gotta feel sorry for Jack!
Just as Lisa’s taxi turned the corner at the top of the road, Bob & Claire pulled up. Claire was surprised, saying “I thought Lisa was leaving at a quarter to 7?” to which I replied “Yes. It’s now 10 to.”
We over-packed the car with Mirinda’s various plastic bags full of…I’m not actually sure what…and set off on our mammoth journey to the New Forest. Even given Mirinda’s interesting choice of route, we made it in under an hour and 20 minutes. Claire managed to keep Bob from running over any of the many ponies, who own the roads.
Woodpecker cottage
Woodpecker cottage is very beautiful, big enough for the four of us and in a fantastic location. We are staying in a small village called Woodgreen. The village has a strange history which I am happy to relate.
From the end of the 17th century, people started drifting here, taking advantage of the seclusion. The area has never been part of a manor or under any form of control and, consequently none of the usual church records. Until recently it was classed as ‘extra-parochial’. Basically it is a village formed from squatting! This non-existence proved handy when it became a haven for pregnant, single woman in the early 19th century.
After unpacking, we went into Fordingbridge and bought burgers and a kebab for tea – the pub wasn’t serving food – then drove back. Got to bed about 11.
