104 March 1969

I’d settled well at our new home on the Eastcourt Estate and got to know some of the local lads through kick-abouts on Eastcourt Green. Peter Cragen and Peter Fill lived on Lynsted Road. Others, like Anthony Couchman and Alan ‘Tosh’ Springate, lived nearby.

When it got too dark to play football on the green, I played table football indoors. Only I’d moved on from this…

To this…

With a little help from Airfix enamels and my biased hand, this all-conquering Manchester United side won the league once a month, every month. 

Spring was on the way when I replaced the handlebars on my bike with fancy cow-horn ones, bought from Braggs bicycle shop on Livingstone Road. A big improvement, I thought.

Another thing I bought was an England kit. At least I bought the components; white shirt, navy shorts and white socks. Interchanged with my old red shirt, white shorts and red socks I could now, if I pleased, wear the colours of half the teams in the football league.

Working at the International Stores put the mockers on attending Gillingham matches on Saturday afternoons but having a job and contributing to the family coffers excused me from Dad’s Sunday morning boot camp. At around 10:15 I sloped off and called at Smith’s newsagents on Beechings Way for a box of Paynes mint poppets on my way to Beechings Green playing field for the 10:30 kick offs, where I rarely saw a boring match. Certainly nothing as boring as the Sunday morning fixtures I’d endured in the Catholic Church across the road, but Dad no longer cracked that whip and those days had been left behind.

Wednesday March 5th

At Priestfield Stadium Gillingham beat Swindon 2-0 in a night match. Swindon captain Stan Harland was gracious in defeat. ‘The best team we’ve played this season,’ he said of the Gills. Praise indeed, from a man whose team had reached the League Cup Final and were riding high at the top of the league. 

It was the first Gillingham match I’d seen in while and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The win was much needed as these were worrying times for the Gills, who’d hit the skids and were flirting with relegation. Paul Parker and I blamed manager Basil Hayward. Not least for having a name like Basil.

Ten days later, Stan Harland lifted the League Cup when Swindon beat Arsenal on a mud bath of a pitch at Wembley. ‘Beautiful play! That is that!’ said Brian Moore in commentary on The Big Match, when Don Rogers sealed Swindon’s victory with a third and final goal.