Comes in Threes


It was later than usual when I entered the Vic through the Town End turnstile for the Tuesday night match against Bromley ...or was it Boreham Wood? 

On my way in I spotted the newly-installed burger van to my right. Seeing as it was a tad nippy I thought that I would get something warm into me so I asked for a Bovril with loads of pepper on it. Thinking that it would be served in an instant the Van Man switched on a kettle. Talk about personal service. Next thing I heard: the music over the Tannoy and then the cheer of the crowd as the teams took to the pitch. Kettle nearly boiling.

I heard the ref blow so the two captains could exchange pleasantries in the centre circle. Whilst the Van Man shook lots of pepper atop of my beef brew the ref blew his whistle to signal the start of proceedings.

Prior to taking my place on the terrace I bought my two obligatory lottery tickets -- I used to purchase three at one time however with retirement one has to be careful with the pennies ...and give them to the Trust instead.
"Picking the cup up from the barrier I noticed that the paint had already started to peel."

As I made my way to my usual spot on the terrace I had to rest my cup of freshly boiled Bovril on top of a nearby barrier and blow on my blistering hands to cool them down as it felt like it was a crucible of molten metal that I was carrying, not the liquid beef extract of some long-deceased bovine creature.

Picking the cup up from the barrier I noticed that the paint had already started to peel. After enjoying a throughly entertaining first half display from Pools, as well as Bromley Wood, my drink had cooled down sufficiently to take my first sip of the evening and it has to be said, very acceptable it was too, but perhaps a few more additional shakes of the pepper pot would not have gone amiss.

After my second gulp of the pseudo-Oxo, the half time lottery winner was announced. Whilst fumbling through various pockets for my tickets and at the same time spilling copious amounts of Brovil on the concrete terracing and watching it crumble into dust, I noted that I had missed the winning ticket by three numbers. In the greater scheme of things I might as well have missed out by three thousand numbers as you still don't win anything.

Ironically the lad three bodies across from me on the terrace had the winning ticket. And good luck to him. I got to thinking that if I hadn't had to wait the three minutes for that kettle to boil in the burger van I probably would have purchased the winning ticket. My ticket number was 1243. There had to be a three in it didn't there.