The Views Of Melvyn Bragg.

Bloody football.

Bloody Charlton.
Bloody Andrew sodding Lloyd Webber.

All in all, not the best evening.

The Adelphi theatre, showing Love Never Dies, must have been nearing 35 degrees C.  

Despite our tickets being in the 'upper' price band, my left leg became stuck to an octogenarian lady next to me due to the sweat, (me), and Lily of the Valley, (her), we were producing. 

The seats were obviously designed for Ronnie Corbett.

A bar of chocolate turned to soup and I thoroughly regretted wearing long trousers rather than the more laid back attire I'd sported all day.

The show was fantastic if you like that kind of thing.

Unfortunately I don't.

The wonderful electronic scenery, the freaky props and the very fit looking acrobats were very,very impressive but I found myself exchanging those "I can't believe this is so cringey" looks with Mrs CC.

I really can't abide it when characters sing to each other.

My idea of a musical is some acting, some dialogue, then a bit of a tune.

When people meet up and sing, "hello, you look well", to each other with no particular tune, just faffing about with a few random notes it's like finger nails on a blackboard to me.

Until last night, I didn't realise my iPhone lit up like a Christmas tree whenever there's a score update pushed through on the iFooty app.

Sitting in the dark, my aged, sticky legged friend, was able to follow what was happening at Shrewsbury nearly as well as I was.

A bit of a disappointment that our reserves didn't manage to hang on to a 3, (THREE) goal advantage but ultimately I couldn't really care less about the Carling Cup.

We weren't ever going to win it and our wafer thin squad can't really stretch to any extra games.

I was at the last game we won in the competition, three years ago, against Carlisle and we very nearly threw it away then too.

Our record in the competition is terrible so no surprises we lost.

It's all about Friday now.

I'll be there and I'm hoping for a completely different and much more entertaining time.


* Melvyn Bragg had absolutely no input or interest in this post. I'm sure he wouldn't be bothered by either Charlton Athletic or Andrew Lloyd Webber.
(He's more of a Barbara Cartland man anyway.)

Opting Out

I seem to have taken advice from Dave at Drinking During The Game.

I'm opting out this evening.

I won't even be listening in on the CAFC player as I shall be part of an evening of culture.

I shall be spending the evening eating yoghurt

This evening, we will be sitting through our countries favourite Toad lookalike's most recent opus as we endure  enjoy Love Never Dies at the Adelphi on the Strand.

Neither of us are particularly looking forward to it but we know someone in the cast so we are off to show support.

I can't imagine there will be any Lacoste polos or Primark novelty slogan t- shirts being awarded by me at the end of the night but you never can tell.

I'll be the bloke with his iPhone in his hand, looking at the score updates from Shrewsbury.

August 9th Memories.

August the 9th.
1986.
I was there.

I didn't quite realise it at the time but it was going to be one of those events where people who missed out, would tell me how lucky I was for years to come.

Queen had played at Live Aid the previous summer and had blown the rest of the acts off stage.
Their stock rose immeasurably.
 Even people like me, rushed off to purchase Queen's Greatest Hits, (on cassette!) and Freddie Mercury became recognisable to everyone from grannies to school kids.

When Queen announced a 'Magic' tour, the tickets were snapped up all over Europe.
I tried in vain to get a ticket for one of the Wembley Stadium appearances.

Queen were playing with Status Quo.

"It should be a good game", my dad guffawed.

Despite some of my so called 'mates' going as a group to Wembley, I stayed at my Saturday job at Woolworth selling records and tapes from the 'Music Bar'.

I've lost the connection through the mists of time of how I ended up getting a ticket for the last show of the tour at Knebworth.
I do know that I travelled up to Stevenage with two pals called Harry and Tim who I'd known from secondary school and were now at the same college as me, doing 'A' levels.

We exited Stevenage railway station and attempted to push our way onto a bus with the handwritten cardboard sign on the front reading 'Pop Concert'.

I remember feeling decidedly ill at ease.
All around us were big, hairy, leather clad greasers who were looking on with amusement at our trio of suburban soul boys.
I remember feeling very conscious of my rather clean looking Diadora 'Borg' tennis shoes and my Kappa  polo shirt. We'd dressed for the weather, (it was due to be a scorcher), and heavy denim or leather seemed a bit pointless to me.

After moving about half a mile in 10 minutes, we jumped off the bus and followed the crowds towards Knebworth on foot.

There were huge bins by the gates, where people were having to lob their mostly still full beer cans. I remember one fella was on the floor in the recovery position. Perhaps he'd decided to drink his days supply rather than give it up?
We had our sandwiches with us but no beer so we were ok.

The day was spent sitting in the sunshine, listening to people moan as the H-U-G-E screen was tuned to (then relatively new), MTV.

One bloke really lost his cool when Jackson 5 parodies '5 Star' had their opportunity to show their latest video.
He kept saying louder and louder, "Look at everyone's T- shirts, we don't want to see this shite".
He ended up having a vicious argument with his wife/girlfriend/ sister, who went off in a huff and we didn't see her for the rest of the day.

The support act of Belouis Some was quite frankly, cack.
Bottles and half eaten sandwiches started flying around the crowd which must have been a nightmare to clear up afterwards.

Status Quo arrived by helicopter, landed, ran on stage, put their heads down, crashed through their set, then got back onto the helicopter and flew to Switzerland for another show.
The highlight of their appearance was one of their roadies climbing about 100ft on top of the giant screen, to play along with what looked like a blow up guitar.
Everyone cheered madly and the Quo didn't know what was happening.

Apparently they sacked him when they found out.

Big Country managed to torture their instruments enough to make that strange bagpipe sound but Stuart Adamson didn't manage anything as good as his 'Into the Valley' by previous band Skids.

As the light began to fade, more than 125,000 people pushed forwards, (though many reports have the attendance at over 300,000), some rather strange blow up characters resembling the members of Queen inflated and flew above the stage and suddenly we were off.

I won't bore you with the set list but recalling the lights being shone onto the crowd for 'Radio GaGa' as everyone clapped in unison still brings a shiver to my spine.

Freddie Mercury had everyone in the palm of his hand.
It was the show to end all shows.
He must have known he was ill and possibly believed it could be his last live appearance, with no new shows on the horizon.
He gave it everything.

As we now know, that show was the last one Queen ever gave, (at least with Freddie Mercury).
It seems strange now but not only did we not realise Mercury was ill, we also didn't even know he was gay!

In retrospect it all seems so obvious, even down to the name of the band but I can remember getting home, eventually, at around 4 am, then waking for breakfast and proclaiming the show being "brilliant" but the singer sometimes sounded "a bit poofy" when he spoke to the crowd!

All these years later, I still look back on that day with fondness.
I wasn't in The Cavern for the Beatles but I was at Wembley Stadium For the First Division Play Off Final, May Bank Holiday 1998 and I was also at the final show by Queen.

Both of those events I will take to the grave.

............................................................................................................................................................

PS.
I've just realised that today is the 10th anniversary of the tragic death of Pierre Bolangi.

R.I.P Pierre.

Beach Boys Beaten

  Charlton Athletic 1 - Bournemouth 0.

It was brought to my attention last night, that I still haven't got my act together to comment on here, despite being at our game against the Cherries on Saturday afternoon.

So, back from holiday and yes, very relaxing thanks for asking.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, we arrived back to a very wet, cold and miserable England which was very different to the parched, dusty, warm environment we had so swiftly become accustomed to.

A few hours in bed and then it was a new season to look forward to.

In the time we were away, players had arrived at the Valley from Southend, Oldham and Ipswich among other places and I wondered how many of the starting line up I was going to recognise.

And so it came to pass.
The first game of the 2010 / 11 season.

The Nay sayers had been given their many opportunities to Nay, the Knockers had spent the close season, well, knocking and those with their glasses tinted a shade of rose, had all shared their views.

Now it was for real and we all wanted to see some clues as to what the season might hold for us.

Firstly, we all now know that the venerable old Keithy Peacock won't be popping up this season to regale us with half time of tales of "Valley Gold not being around when I was coming through the ranks....".

I'll miss his regular invitation to part with my cash, despite the missing pixels seeming to add 5 years to his age with every appearance.

The electronic scoreboard has been a bit of a laughing stock over the last couple of years and it has now delivered it's final message.

I didn't realise how often I looked at it until it wasn't there.

Parky has assembled a squad that, on paper, and at first viewing, doesn't look much weaker than the one we finished with last season.

Alan McCormack gave a good impression and in Crispy's eyes, could be a kind of Nicky Bailey without the histrionics.

Doherty linked well with Dailly and they had a very solid afternoon. At their ages, three games in a week might be too much so Llera could be getting some game time soon due to injury or fatigue.

Charlton came out of the traps as if they had something to prove.

Kyel Reid was fantastic. He ripped Bournemouth to shreds as he glided past their static defence to cross a pinpoint ball onto Sodje, who managed to send the ball into the Jimmy Seed stand by way of the crossbar.

A few moments later, Reid was at it again but this time Sodje managed to steer the ball home.

1-0 and totally in control.

At this stage, it looked as if Bournemouth were on for a real tonking.

They lost their discipline and started tackling wildly. 

Referee Hegley seemed as if he wanted to help the Addicks along and gave some really odd decisions in our favour, much to the displeasure of the Dorset folk on their big day out in the Smoke.

None of the decisions were match altering but he'd make up for it later.

Abbott was running around in much the same way as Mooney used to, though he doesn't look to be as lightweight as the crowd dividing Irishman.
Semedo was doing his mopping up roll dutifully and Jackson was giving Reid the back up he needed when he advanced forward. Solly seemed happier to be playing on the right.

Only Wagstaff seemed a little out of sorts.

How the score remained 1-0, I really don't know. 

Charlton looked as if they were a class apart and Bournemouth looked as if they had no ideas beyond trying to clog the danger men, (very surprising for a supposedly passing, 'footballing' side).

When the teams returned for the second half, Harry Arter had been replaced. His dream 'return' to the Valley really hadn't worked out well for him and possibly due to trying too hard, he was a bit of a liability and looked a likely candidate for an early bath.

The game turned on the hour mark. 

Semedo stretched to reach a 50:50 ball. 

Both players were fully commited and Semedo, from my angle, seemed to win the ball, (though obviously due to the attentions of the Bournemouth player Symes, it wasn't particularly cleanly).

I believe Semedo's foot made it through to make contact with his prone opponent but it could quite easily have ended up being the other way around.

It was just the kind of challenge a referee might decide is worthy of a yellow card if he's trying to stamp his authority on the game.

The players, and Semedo in particular, were amazed and appalled when the referee made a very speedy decision, rushing forwards while taking his card out.

A red card did seem very, VERY harsh for a tackle that was strong but honest.

From that moment, the game was up.

Bournemouth tried to make their extra player count but they really were quite toothless up front. 

Charlton were quite happy to hold onto what they already had.

There was a heart stopping moment when a clean tackle inside the Charlton penalty area was judged to be a foul. Having decided it was a foul, the referee had to give a penalty kick but strangely then decided the offence had been just outside the area.

It was a ridiculous decision, one of many odd ones Hegley gave to Bournemouth in the second half.

Both sets of supporters could quite honestly moan about the referee. 

He was actually a bit of a homer for periods of the first half but after the break he obviously remembered those wonderful childhood Summers spent at Poole harbour and completely favoured the Cherries. 

Racon replaced Abbott and then Lee Martin came on for Waggy with around 15 minutes to go.

Martin looked lively and could be a very useful addition to the squad this year.

Sodje was the final change as he made way for Francis with only about 3 minutes to go.

Unfortunately, the referee chose to add 5 minutes to the game, giving him an opportunity to book Martin for supposedly kicking the ball away and then booking Cooper for throwing the ball away only 30 seconds later.

My watch showed that well over 6 minutes additional time were actually played due to the ref quite clearly, enjoying himself as the centre of attention. 

A 1-0 win puts 3 points on the board and was a decent leg stretcher for the busy week ahead.

A Casual Rating

The Lacoste polos have been hanging in the wardrobe for 11 weeks now, so I've decided to award two this time.

Kyel Reid is the recipient of the first one for his superlative first half performance.

Chris Solly has added to his reputation with a stellar second half showing and is being awarded one too.
Well done to the both of them.

The Primark novelty slogan t-shirt is, naturally, going to the referee.
Nothing to do with Semedo's sending off.
The red card was given in real time and second guessing from the comfort of my sofa, with the benefit of a pause button really isn't fair.
My gripe with him was he seemed to be looking for fouls in order to even things up rather than just refereeing the game, resulting in some very odd moments.

As I've said before, while we are languishing in tier 3, we'll be getting tier 3 officials so we had all better get used to it.

Up, Up and Away.

*This is not an advertisement for burglers and other Bermondsey types.  

I spent today pretending to pack.

As a typical bloke, I just watched a bit of TV and then chucked a few clean polo shirts, two pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of swim shorts and a pair of Brazilian Havaianas into my suitcase and then poured the contents of my washbag over the top.

Two beach towels rammed in to keep it all from moving about too much and job done.

I can never understand how some people manage to spend so long on packing.

I did spend quite a bit of time filling my iPod touch with films and podcasts to entertain me on our (Easyjet) flights so I suppose it's all about priorities.

Easyjet permitting, I'm back with a few hours to spare before our season opener against Bournemouth.

I hope I'll be returning to news of a freshly signed, or loaned, 20 goal a season striker.

I'll be the relaxed looking bloke in the East stand, smelling of Aftersun.

Over and Out.

Summer's Here And The Time Is Right

After what feels like an eternity, those of us who work in 'Education', finally packed up yesterday for the Summer.

I'm a little perturbed that the traditional '6 weeks holiday' seems to have been rebranded as the '5 week break'.
In reality, I know most people in our country, (who are lucky enough to still be in work), would cry tears of joy at the prospect of an entire month with only minimal paperwork and a few days of planning on the horizon.

The final week of the Summer term is always the worst.
Leavers Assemblies, Leavers Disco, a final mad rush to get all the assessment information into the correct files, (both paper and electronic) and a rather knackered group of kids all contribute to a very long 5 days.

I woke late this morning, watched a bit of television, nursed a coffee, had lunch and dropped the girls off at Bexleyheath.
I then came home and fell asleep again until very nearly 7.30pm!

Rave on Grandad!

Needless to say, I didn't schlep up the Northern Line to witness the friendly one nought defeat at Barnet.
Apparently, not many others did either as the attendance was less than 900.

I won't be stepping back into my classroom until September 1st so for the first time in ages, I haven't felt guilty about doing nothing with my weekend.

Tomorrow I promise I'll do something but today was that day where it all stretches out in front of you with a myriad of possibilities.

Sometimes I feel truly blessed.

It's Coming Together

After a break that was partly due to being far too busy, and partly to do with not really having any urge to comment on this blog,  I suddenly felt a 'stirring' this afternoon.

The signing today of Christian Dailly for another season was most definitely a step in the right direction and flicked a switch in my brain.

Before today, the return of Johnnie Jackson and Gary Doherty definitely made me feel a little reassured that the club are doing all they can with very limited funds.

Jackson really impressed me in his brief loan period with us last season. 

He looked to be a 'Charlton' type of player and I'm very pleased he's now joined for real.

 Doherty may not be everyones idea of a flashy signing but he most certainly is the kind of solid player we need around the youngsters who are sure to be part of our next squad.

The signing of Alan McCormack from Southend meant nothing to me if I'm being honest. My knowledge of 3rd tier football isn't strong enough to have formed an opinion on him before I heard he had signed.

His appearance at Welling on Tuesday was a secure enough performance, showing there is something there to build on. A poor man's Nicky Bailey perhaps?

Akpo Sodje completed his move from Sheffield Wednesday but as he was here for such a long time last season, it doesn't really feel like a signing. (Neither does the signing of Scott Wagstaff, who I feel could be one of the stars of the coming season.)

I'm beginning to feel a little hopeful, -always dangerous where Charlton are concerned!

So, who's next?

The return of Kyel Reid?

Or even the return of Jon Fortune who was spraying his 40 yard passes around the Park View Road turf on Tuesday? 

One thing is certain. The story of Charlton Athletic is likely to be getting yet more exciting and disappointing chapters in the next few months.

I'm starting to look forward to climbing back on board.