Musings of a Mediocre Mother
‘Go on you Reds!’
‘Oh when the Wells, Oh when the Wells, Oh when the Wells go marching in!’ and best of all,
‘Oh Tunbridge Wells, Oh Tunbridge Wells, Oh Tunbridge Wells is wonderful…’ How middle class?
I know they’re not exactly the most inspired football chants, but never have words been sung with such gusto and feeling than at the FA Vase Cup Final at Wembley on Saturday 4th May. It seemed that the whole of Tunbridge Wells had turned out, (if you weren’t one of them, why not?), to support a side of unsalaried players. It’s the first time an unpaid side has reached the final apparently and the first time Tunbridge Wells had played at Wembley in its 125 year history. They were facing a team who had been amongst the favourites since the beginning. Sadly as we all know, they were defeated on the day but they put everything into it and I for one was left with an immense sense of pride for the town where I live.
Ordinarily of course I wouldn’t be found at Wembley but with husband and oldest son away on rugby tour, I decided to attend with my younger boy. It was a great opportunity to go to Wembley without breaking the bank. It also made me realise how diverse Tunbridge Wells is as a town. We have been forever saddled with the ‘disgusted of Tunbridge Wells’ moniker, and indeed a few fans had adjusted this to suit on banners that I saw. It’s also considered to be the epitome of middle class but it seemed as if people from all walks of life were rubbing along nicely together at the game.
As is probably to be expected, I saw a lot of beer being drunk but I didn’t see this spill over into any trouble. And although a lad sitting in front of us used a few choice words, he was rewarded with a cuff and a shhhh from his mate because of all the kids present.
Walking back to the tube in a sea of red, there was a noticeable police presence, probably wary because the crowd size was double what had been expected, but they needn’t have worried, because we are after all from Tunbridge Wells…
I mentioned above that my older boy was on rugby tour. They went to France and played a lot of rugby (the boys), and drank a lot of beer (the dads) and even managed to get in a bit of history by visiting Vimy Ridge, a World War 1 battle site. (Hopefully that justifies the day off school they all had – approved of course!). The point is that in the entire season, not once was it necessary to call an ambulance for any of our players. A few games in France and 3 of the Tunbridge Wells players get carted off to hospital with a dislocated shoulder, a twisted knee and concussion. You draw your own conclusions.
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Finally, I did miss Mr Mediocre Mother when he was away, but it was tempered slightly by the fact that shortly before he went, he was helping me fold some washing, actually the anecdote should stop there as this is a story in itself, but it goes on. He laid a pair of my knickers over his pants and pointed out with some glee that mine were bigger than his. I think it’s fair to say that he won’t be seeing my knickers again for some time!
MM
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