Saturday 28th July 2018

And although it is just 13 days since the world cup final was played, already the new season is almost upon us, and Norwich were playing in south east London, Charlton, too close to home to not go. And also the chance to catch up with my old RAF buddy, ian, who sadly lost his longtime partner, and friend of mine, Michelle in the cold dark days of February to agressive back cancer. Due to work and my poor planning, I have not had chance to see Ian since Michelle passed away, so as I knew he was going, I would meet up.

It had rained most of the night, but although the ground was wet, all was still brown, new growth will come, but it will take time.

We go to Tesco, rush round as with me needing to catch a train to that London, no time for dawdling. We had to come home through Pineham and Guston, due to massive tailbacks for the port, we only got round the roundabout going to Tesco, and the A2 was jammed once we left.

Back home I cook bacon butties and Jools puts the shopping away, so that come half nine, I was ready to go. Only that with some recalculation, I realised I did not have to catch the train in 15 minutes, but the one an hour later.

So come twenty past ten, Jools takes me down the hill to Martin Mill, I get my ticket and wait on the platform in the sunshine. OK, it was sunny, but a breeze was blowing which did at least mean it wasn't so hot, so that there was no need to carry water or juice with me.

I get a seat so watch the countryside go by as we drop down into Dover and along the coast to Folkestone. And by the time we departed for Ashford, there was barely any seats left, and out of Ashford it was standing room only. Just like a peak service, but with shorts and flip flops.

I carry on watching out of the windows, as the passengers had got on talked loudly and drank from cans of Tenants, but not super strength, which was nice.

I fight my way off at Stratford, and made my way up the escalator, then along to the DLR station where a train was waiting, and my inner child was thrilled to find one of the seats at the front was empty, so that's where I sit, so I can see the view out of the front of the train.

The change this time was that once the train arrived at London City Airport, I stayed on until the line dived beneath the ground and under the river to arrive at the end of the line in Woolwich.

There is a set of stairs leading to the BR line, so I walk onto the up platform to wait for a train to take me the two stops to Charlton.

A ten car train arrived, with more than enough seats for us all, and it rattles though the terraced and close knit housing that stood against the line.

Charlton stands beside the river, and climbs the ancient riverbank and valley sides heading south, whatever stood by the main road before, has been swept away and a huge retail park now stands; a large Sainsbury's and Boots and other shops, just down the street is a large Marks and Spencer. There is rubbish everywhere, so has a down at heel feel. But what it also has is police. Lots of police.

I was due to meet Ian at a pub near the station. It was closed. For good.

Three police stand by it at the junction with the main road, so I ask them where the nearest pub is.

The Rose of Denmark they tell me, but that is for home supporters only. You are best to go straight to the ground. It is just after one.

I walk to the Rose and find three picnic tables outside, two are occupied by Norwich fans, and the other empty. So, I get a pint and one for Ian, take to the empty table and watch the traffic go by.

Ian arrives, and turns out all sitting outside are friends, so I am introduced to all, and we toast the new season. Inside the pub there is one Charlton fan wearing colours, most City fans are wearing yellow and green, but there is no trouble. In fact you wouldn't know there was a game on as business is so slow, we get served easily enough when our glasses are empty, and we get no trouble.

At twenty to three we walk to the ground, back to the closed pub, past that and down a side street, passing dozens of policemen, for on horseback, and no trouble at all. I ask one, do you know something we don't? We're just little ol' Norge. "Standard operating procedures" is the answer, given with theatrical eye rolling.

Inside the ground we have another pint, whilst we can hear the teams running out onto the pitch, so we go into the stand, and find two whole sides are closed, and the stand to the left is half filled with home fans in the bottom enclosure. THe back half of our stand is also fenced off.

The game kicks off, with no real noise, and that's how it continues. City do get the ball in the net, but is ruled out due to offside.

That was as good as it got in the first half.

In the second it was little better, but Charlton score with a deflected toe punt. Norwich push forward, getting more urgent towards the end, but apart from one header that is turned onto the bar, that is it. A 1-0 defeat, and next week the season starts for real.

I say goodbye to Ian, and walk up the stand, back to the station where I find I have lost my smart card, and the ticket back home too.

I can pay using my bank card, so can get back to Stratford, and after sweet talking the guy on the gate, he stamps my receipt to say he is letting me on the train without a ticket, and the guard on the train should accept that.

Being a twelve car train, the guard was in the back half, so no ticket check, I just had to get off Ashford station, as that is where Jools was going to meet me.

She arrived 20 minutes late saying the traffic in town and along the motorway was even worse than in the morning. So, using my phone and live Google maps, we were able to steer a course to Folkestone, then along the Alkham Valley, to the castle and finally along Reach Road to home. As we went over Jubilee Way, traffic was stationary all the way to the roundabout, and people were standing outside their cars, waiting.