I decided to end my (English) season of 'hopping' with a 'proper' journey. I looked through the many grounds I needed to visit in the south, at either Step 3 or 4, then see if I could get a deal on the train. I popped Hastings in to the search engine and it came up with a ridiculously cheap price, so it was to East Sussex I made my way today.
Celebratory was hardly the word I would have used to describe my mood as I travelled down on the train as, the further south I got, the more persistent the rain. Naturally, as a paranoid groundhopper, panic starts to set in as to whether the game would be on, as in this day and age the slightest bit of drizzle can cause a referee to 'brick it' and call a game off.
London Bridge, where I had to go for my connection south, was my point of no return, so to speak, as once I was on that train it was Hastings or bust. Numerous phone calls to the club failed to get a response, so in the end I spoke to the opposition secretary, from the Metropolitan Police, who told they were travelling as they hadn't been told otherwise. That was good enough for me, so I decided to travel too.
Finally, after all that waffle regards Hastings, I never once mentioned 1066...oh b*gg*r, just did!!