Dennis Menaces Return To Maidenhead
The M40 motorway was blessed by two closed lanes near Warwick, at the beginning of the 50mph road works, following an accident. Fortunately, I was early enough to take the delay in hand and still arrive in Maidenhead by 1.45pm. I had completed my final teaching practice in the town many years before and of course on this day, I recognised nothing and nowhere. I did cast my mind back to days of watching Reading at Elm Park, however, when the team’s two goalkeepers were Death and Pratt. You simply couldn’t make those names up…
 |
| No room @ Maidenhead then... |
 |
| Nearly made it... |
 |
| A little history for the visitors... |
A ‘Groundhopper’ I had met at Daventry had suggested that I parked at the railway station in Maidenhead but when I arrived near the ground, the target was obviously on the one-way traffic system through the town centre and I realised that parking was going to be tough. The Truro team-coach was manoeuvring with some difficulty off York Road into the ground’s cramped entrance and therefore traffic was at a standstill, so I attempted to make a left turn and approach a nearby car-park I had noticed but the entrance was inaccessible and I returned to York Road, thinking I could maybe park within the confines of the old stadium. Wrong…
 |
| I liked this... |
 |
| Chatting people... |
 |
| Warming up before the trees... |
 |
Smart grandstand.
Man bends over. |
I was ushered away by a steward, who suggested I parked in a car-park at the end of a street opposite the entrance, which I hadn’t seen and then I noticed Dennis from High Wycombe… I turned on a sixpence, passed the Truro players, who were extricating luggage from the hold of their transport and drove across York Road into a cul-de-sac; but on further inspection, the optimum length of stay was two hours and I needed three… Great help, Mr Steward. Dennis, in nifty yellow pullover, carrying a coolbag and looking the complete museum visitor, joined me and I invited him to take a seat and accompany me to find somewhere to leave my car. He agreed and this became a short drive, leading us towards what was supposed to be a Long Stay car-park. It wasn’t. There was a retail park and a refuse facility, alongside a small residential estate though. What a good sign that was then… I refused to park near the shopping outlets but decided to leave my car on the estate, later worrying that the team’s coach driver’s comments about warnings she’d been given at Heathrow’s hotel, where the players had slept, that her wheels might possibly disappear near the ground, would not haunt me…
 |
| Stripes and lines... |
 |
| Lots of posts to hinder viewing... |
 |
| View from... |
Off-road slots for residential parking only, concerned us that maybe the road was also off limits to non-residents but there appeared to be no such warning signs on streetlights or on any other notices and thus I left my car, ushering the dithering Dennis away. He wondered whether he would be warm enough without his coat but I assured him it would be fine, as two men drew up in front of us and asked for our assistance. Dennis, if nothing else, was always helpful and friendly. He was advising one foreign guy and an Englishman how to get to a particular road, in a town he was not too conversant with… He told them that they needed a satnav, they said they had one already and Dennis was getting too involved until I interceded, noticing with discomfort that they had ‘Parking Management’ logos on their polo shirts, whilst telling them that I came from Birmingham. I explained that Dennis was not a native of Maidenhead either and although we were sorry we couldn’t help them, please would they take pity on my car if it was illegally parked. They laughed. Scarily…
 |
| Scratching head time... |
 |
| All Gold: Truro City... |
 |
| Not quite matching boots for Les Afful... |
I pulled Dennis away, although he told the chaps that they could give us a lift if they wanted to. I nearly felt the need to explain that I was his carer. The ground, 138 years in Maidenhead United’s use, was untidy and unusual. The toilet block was basic, one quarter of the clubhouse-side of the ground seemed to be a carport and there was an opening between two walls, through which I could see Truro’s ‘Back Row Four’ fans in a grandstand. They were sitting on, er, the back row.
 |
| Celebration... |
 |
| Les is happy too... |
We chatted to Sheila and Trevor, Andy Watkins’ parents, then Dave Ash, Jake’s father, who was loitering in conversation with a couple of Truro fans but the game was soon played in sunshine, Dennis hadn't needed his coat and Truro led 3-0 at the break. Just before half-time, however, Dennis left his friend in the grandstand and sidled up to me, informing me that where I had parked my car was for residents only, according to his friend and it would be clamped, or ticketed. He suggested running to it at half-time, re-parking and returning. I refused, to his dismay, but interestingly his cellphone was in his coolbag, in front of the car’s passenger seat… I told him that we would not have time to re-park because the car was between ten and fifteen minutes’ walk away anyway and then we would have to find somewhere else to leave it, plus the fact that the clamping or ticketing would already have been implemented by then and my sole reason for being in Maidenhead was not to guard my car with pitchfork and sickle but to watch Truro in the FA Cup. He shrugged, returned, thus chastened, to his friend, upon whom I would have like to have practised my offensive skills with a pitchfork and a sickle.
Bob from the ‘Back Row Four’ did mistake Afful, small and dark-skinned, for Watkins, taller and white-skinned, joking afterwards that Afful had “…grown in stature…” Hilarious! I had wondered why Afful’s shorts had fitted him less like galligaskins on the day…
 |
| Playground scrap... |
 |
| Oops... |
 |
| Gaia's goal goes in... |
Dennis spent the latter stages of Truro’s 5-2 victory standing on the far side, able to spot an early exit by me, no doubt and the plundering of his Kit-Kats and cellphone, but we left the ground together anyway, for I had offered to return him to his car. He had travelled into Maidenhead on the bus, surprisingly, and he was probably more pleased than I was to find my car untouched, un-ticketed and unclamped. His directions were simply occasional flicked fingers from worried hands and yet I reckoned my driving to be gentle enough. He left me a Kit-Kat, led me towards the M40 and I was grateful but I then recalled our first conversation last season when he found out that I was returning to Solihull on the M40 after a game; he admitted that he had to go the same way but when I asked him if I could follow him back to the motorway he replied that that would be fine, but he wasn’t sure of the way…
Thanks for that…
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.