Hello! How are you?

Good to be back from the lull of the international ‘break’? On Saturday the 19th of October 5.30pm (western European time) the mighty cannon takes up positions against Bournemouth FC down at Dean Court, Dorset. Hopefully all our players will come back from the international scraps with no scrapes and will be fully available. What with the Liverpool game coming into sight it will be interesting to see who lines up?

Bournemouth? I was dreading this one since the beginning of the season I haven’t a clue! All I know is Tolkien moved there in his final years, his wife died there and later he died there too on a visit having moved back to Oxford some years prior. I seem to vaguely remember driving through as a kid, but that might be untrue, however, luckily for me so I can write the preview but maybe an arch-bore for you, I do have one story related to an amateur football team from Bournemouth…it another tie in but its the best I can do. So apologies for that.

OK, lets go back to the late 80’s. Its a Wednesday night in mid-winter, it might be a false memory, but basically in my mind it was cold and rainy. I’m working at an Italian restaurant, on the high-street in the area where we lived, I’m 19, and I’m doing it for some extra sheckles to get through college, I’m on starters and washing up and my friend whose a year older is on main-courses, he’s a photographers assistant (and has to be up for work at 6.00am)and is so poorly paid he has to also do this some days a week to get by. Neither of us are trained in anyway whatsoever but have learnt having been pushed in at the deep-end a long time prior. We’ve already worked there for some years and are both good friends with the owners son, whose a year older than me, so the relationship is more than an just an employee-we could get away with lots of practical jokes and temper tantrums on 30° summer nights when the restaurant was full and the kitchen was like a suburb of hell. Perhaps it should be said, the kitchen was tiny, not room for more than four and was at the best of times a cauldron of heat, noise, ever changing effluvium, flare-ups and an absurd ballet of trying to avoid getting in anyone else’s way. And yes, I have lots of nefarious stories about what went on behind the scenes, some are really funny, but perhaps if you’re only on that side of the kitchen door though?

Its around ten o’clock, so that means not long till closing (ten-thirty) and at this point we are down in the dank underworld of the cellar, having a crafty cig, when the boss (who I’m very pleased to say is still alive today) comes into the kitchen and shouts out “new order!”. No the band hadn’t turned up, but fifteen (adult) football-players from Bournemouth, they’d apparently played in some kind of tournament in the local area and were desperate for something to eat (no doubt to soak up the booze they had taken on board) and each one had decided to order something separate(no joke) for both starters and main-courses. That’s thirty dishes we had to scratch up, plus sides etc so we’re not getting home at 11, as we might have done had they not turned up. Basically we’re forked. I suggest we both share all the work together as its the only way we are getting home before 1am. We smash through it and by the time the mains and add-ons are out and we’ve cleared away all the washing up too, and are back in the cellar for another crafty oily. The boss comes in “fellas, they have bought you a drink” so we accept and just drink a Peroni beer and go back like troglodytes down into the fusty underworld of the cellar, its a nice gesture, but not too big a deal as we could skank a few beers anyway if things got too pressured.

At around 11.45pm the boss comes in again, “fellas, they want to come out and personally thank you, you’d better change your aprons and jackets” (which were covered in spillages and kack etc.)

So we smartened up and reluctantly blunder out in the world of the front of house, and are greeted by a thirty- second, total, standing-ovation. A wall of cheering, whooping and whistling. We just stood there like a couple of shy plums, blown away by such a barrage of gratitude. Bisognava essere lì per capirlo appieno! What a moment! We said thanks,and youre welcome and waved a bit and went back into the kitchen and got on with the rest of the washing up. But if that’s how sporting teams from Bournemouth always are, then there must be something in the coastal air that’s special. Thanks lads, you made us feel like kings for one moment.

 All roads lead to football, somehow? To tie it in, a few of us who followed the Arsenal took the bosses son to his first game (Arsenal v Newcastle) which was the same day as Hillsborough. Paul had busted his arm about a week before, and I can see him with an ‘orrible cone of chips stuffed into his sling shouting out “come on you reds!” He sadly died very young, but I always salute him when I hear or play a Cure song, or think of that game. Football and music, how it runs and dances through our lives? Pauls gone, the restaurants gone, most of the lads we knew moved on to other adventures. Its the way of all things, but what remains?

Dean Courts been a good hunting ground for us, but its also meant our only banana skin, slippety doo-dah in matches against them, it’s a tough ground with always the atmosphere of an old-style 3rd round FAC game, not something to be laughed at.Unless you win 5-0!

Currently residing in 11th, their manager, Andoni Iraola has a 37.25% win rate and a career win rate of 38.87%. They have no major honours and best finish ever was 9th in the PL back in 2016/17.

Tete-a-Tete it be: P 13 W D2 L1.

Well that’s it, lots of bits and pieces that I’m sure have made you feel like ponder whether under your finger nail there could be many worlds?

Even so, here’s to a great game for us and lucky horses! 

COYG and keep on keepin’ on!

Mills