“The last person to be that immobile in Bristol was the statue of Edward Colston that ended up in the harbour.”

When it comes to simple to make meals, Coleman’s tuna pasta bake is in the top tier of filling yet easy food for the Voss family. Be in when we were children at school, something to make myself after a days work, or reheated as the next days working dinner, it is a flexible dish that can satisfy in quick time. However I did not think that tuna pasta bake and a bit of a tiger baguette would be the highlight of my fucking Saturday. We’re three games into the new season and it’s not panic stations yet. But the fact that watching Dorch wasn’t as enjoyable as a sachet of sauce that is 26% tomato powder is a damning indictment of how the hours between 1500-1700 were on Saturday.

Post lunch, pre-football.

As with most days watching Dorch, it all started well enough. My early morning coach to Bristol from London cost me the princely sum of £3.90 with my McDonald’s breakfast actually costing more than my onward travel. Although travelling solo, I was to meet my long suffering sister, Amy, in Keynsham where she now lives. She had not seen a Dorch game since the infamous 2-2 on New Years Day when Steve Claridge made a meal of a well timed Jamie Brown challenge, but with one of her best friends husbands now playing for us in Sam Poole, she wanted to come and lend her support. She’ll never learn. There were issues with rail replacement buses as I tried to get to Keynsham, but after being picked up by Amy near to a church, where in hindsight I probably should have popped in and said a quick prayer for us, unbeknown to both of us, the highlight of the day would soon follow in the shape of the aforementioned tuna pasta bake and a cup of tea.

Jerk sauce and salad optional.

Supporting Dorch has not been easy for several years and despite there appearing to be promising signs off the pitch, the same problems persist on it. WSM at home first up was going to be a tough game and with a pretty much brand new side it was a difficult game to gauge. Our 1-3 defeat wasn’t the most inspiring but with Weston likely being one of the better sides in the league, it wasn’t going to be an accurate reflection on where we are as a side. Then we went to Christchurch in the FA Cup, where by all accounts we were a distant second best in all departments against a side two leagues below us. Nothing but credit goes to Ollie Cherrett’s side who were miles better on the night, but it showed all the frailties we have been far too familiar with over the past few seasons. Yate on Saturday gave us an ideal opportunity to get our season going, show that we have learned from these mistakes and that this season won’t be a re-run of the past few seasons of Southern League obscurity. And we fucked it up. Massively.

Photo; Phil Standfield.

Yate’s ground is a nice little spot, its green surrounds reminding us of Abingdon or a pre-investment Eastleigh, but the most prophetic observation was Cam’s “definitely the type of ground we lose 4-0 at”. With the team news showing a few changes including a first start of the season for Tom Bath as well as other personnel tweaks, it seemed as though it would be wingbacks with two men up top, a departure from the previous games. As our fans rolled into the stadium and the team was announced, the one thing missing was actually our players, who appeared to have got stuck in traffic. We eventually arrived and our 30-40 fans wondered what was in store as we crept closer to kick off. Deadly, who was able to attend due to the coronavirus seeing his game on the line at Cheltenham cancelled, found out first hand that one of the things available were cold chips, but you could at least have jerk sauce or an assortment of salad from a bowl (both possibly non league firsts) with said food items. As we headed behind the goal we were attacking, we hoped that we might actually see some of the action this week, and for the first few minutes we did.

A couple of spells of possession with no end product were encouraging and there were signs of Oakley and Tiago moving past the halfway line. All well and good but the first sign of danger was soon to follow as a break down our left hand side was all too easy, the resultant shot that clipped the top of the crossbar should have provided us ample warning of what was to come. It did not. As Tom Blair conceded a free kick some distance out and quite centrally after 14 minutes, there appeared to be little danger. The floated delivery from ex-magpie Jordan Williams appeared harmless but was anything but as it nestled in the far corner without taking a touch and appearing to bounce twice before going in. It looking fucking dreadful from a distance and was the fourth goal from a set piece in three games. Tiago Sa wouldn’t last much longer than 20 minutes as a calf injury would see him withdrawn with Billy Lowes coming on to replace him, Harry Hodges moving from midfield to the left defensive position in the switch up.

Best part of the day.

This would make zero difference as Yate would find another opening down the left side in what be a recurring theme of the day, another ex-Magpie in Olly Mehew this time being the man allowed the freedom of the left side as his centre was converted by Sam Turl. It was all too easy and makes a total mockery of my observation from seven days ago that we looked alright in defence from open play. Our attacking threat was negligible at best, with over hit crosses or possession being lost in the opposition half being as close as we’d really come. One such over hit cross would see the Yate keeper quite clearly handle the ball outside his box on his right hand side, but with the ref unsighted and the lino on the wrong side, the keeper got away with it despite being stood on a stewards foot on the far side. Frustration started to show as players could be seen and heard arguing, and although the service to him was next to non-existent, Tom Bath’s movement was unfavourably compared to that of the statue of Edward Colston that was dragged down by chains and thrown into Bristol harbour in the BLM protests. There was time for an excellent piece of foreshadowing as Charlie Madden and Will Buse almost conspired to give away a third before halftime as their communication or indeed lack of almost allowed a Yate attacker to steal in for a third, but we made it to halftime at 2-0, and in truth it could and possibly should have been more.

It was a tough watch, one that was not lost on my sister as she proclaimed she’ll never complain about Pompey being shit again having watched that half of football. It was a strange atmosphere, one of more apathy than annoyance at the position we found ourselves in. We shouldn’t expect and certainly don’t just accept turning up and losing, but it’s almost as if we expect to lose as soon as we go behind. There was little optimism that we’d turn it around, and we were proved correct as the duo of Madden and Buse got themselves in a gurt big muddle three minutes after the restart. Neither goalkeeper or defender seemed to want to clear the danger, communication again seeming a real issue, and as the Yate attacker nipped in, took the ball and was barrelled into by Buse to concede a penalty, it really surprised no one. Penalty converted, 3-0 down, any hope of getting back into the game evaporated, and more sniping and shouting at each other including such lines as “you’re not good enough to be fucking around with it there, just get it in the box” from a bloke who did fuck all for nearly the whole game, and one of the senior players exclaiming “that’s why we fucking lose every week”. It was as tough a listen as it was a watch, and it of course got worse when it was made 4-0 by ex-Weymouth man Stuart Fleetwood, as he expertly swept the ball in following another good Yate move down our left hand side. We had been totally out-played again, individual errors compounding a dismal performance, Sam Bayston’s well taken injury time goal for us providing scant consolation. A 4-1 loss and frankly, it could have been worse but for some poor finishing spots of individual good defending.

It’s very difficult to pick any positives from that beyond the fact that the away kit is okay. Some players looked genuinely pissed off at defeat and were visibly annoyed at what was going on around them, others seemed less so. Tactically we’ve not looked that coherent in the first three games and there seems to be a real lack of urgency about our play at the moment. We are only three games into a new season, with a largely new squad in a league which has seen preparation altered by a pandemic and other teams withdrawals. But there are minimum standards that you’d expect to see which just aren’t being met. In one of the past blog about the 2002-03 league winning season, Matthew’s Holmes and Groves both spoke of how then manager Mark Morris could accept mistakes but would not stand for a lack of effort. Some players based of what we’ve seen in the first three games certainly seem to be playing within themselves to say the least. The individual errors and vulnerability at set pieces are a real worry. We’ve not looked comfortable since the first corner vs WSM to the last against Yate, something that won’t be lost on other teams, and of the three goals we’ve scored, two have come directly from individual runs by Tom Blair, with the third being an injury time consolation (albeit well taken) at 4-0 down. If we could stop the ball coming back every time we clear our lines, that would be a great help to our backline. Another blow was the removal of the ‘Kay Bath’ Twitter account, Tom Bath’s Mum’s Twitter musings were taken from us too soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if things were to change both in terms of the starting XI and possibly even tactical set up ahead of tonight’s game against a Wimborne side who have also lost their first two league games.

Trying to look for reasons to be positive is a bit of a chore at the moment as despite the fact we’re only three games in, they’ve been three stinkers. Is it panic stations yet? No, it’s far too early. After tonight‘s game there is a lengthy break for us until Saturday 10th of October vs Tivvy at home, how we fare tonight will be a big factor in how much if any changes are made in that game-less window. If nothing more, both Leigh Robinson’s wins as DTFC manager have come vs Wimborne, so here’s hoping that odd run continues and the Bootlegger clips can once again be used. Alehouse clogging commences in T minus four hours, I’m off for some tuna pasta bake to ensure the day has at least one highlight if nothing more. SV

This is horrendous. For context, Kixstart helps individuals of all ages with disabilities and learning difficulties including vulnerable adults to benefit from active participation in football and related activities. Please get in contact with Shaun or the club with any info.

“Where did Euro 92 take place, Phil?…..”Mexico”

Plus ça-fucking-change eh!? It seems hard to believe that it was over a year ago that I last attended a Dorch away game. A work trip back to the UK and I thought I’d bolt on a week-long holiday in Dorset to see the ‘rents and take in a Tuesday night jaunt down to Truro for the first away game of the season. We lost 3-0. I should have known better.

Fast forward a year, a pandemic, a family bereavement, a sabbatical-cum-repatriation later and I find myself once again back in Dorset eyeing up the first away game of the season. On a Tuesday night. I should have known better.

And perhaps I did, subconsciously. After all, this was only going to be Christchurch …”a nice easy one” – the type of game most fans would drive over after work, routine victory, drive back home and be in bed by half ten. Obviously this is Dorch, and that was never going to happen and so, out of necessity if nothing else, the day would instead revolve around a few beers in Bournemouth before the inevitable 90 minutes of football ruining a perfectly lovely day.

And so ‘El Gen’ and I headed over by train in the mid-arvo to catch up with Phil (now living in the distant, bright city lights of Bournemouth) and have a few beers with him in his local gaff of Ashley Cross – “The Shephard’s Bush of Bournemouth” apparently.

Whilst we waited for Phil to finish work, Steve and I headed to The Camden and took advantage of £6 steak night and tucked into a few Estrellas as we ran the rule over the opening day defeat to Weston. We had apparently done this in the immediate aftermath of the game on Saturday, but due to reasons that definitely weren’t linked to us having done match sponsorship for the day, I had fallen asleep in the bar by this point.

Steve’s thought process (or “philosophy” to use the very much over-used modern day football parlance) is to build from the back first-and-foremost. Defend well first and then add the more attacking layers on top of that. As anybody who has ever stood next to El Generalè at a game knows, this can neatly be summarised as “BASICS!!!!”. As such, Steve is quite at ease with us playing three at the back with wing backs and felt we looked solid enough for a first proper hit out – three individual mistakes aside of course.

My thinking is a little different. For me, you play to your strengths – and certainly look to build your team around them. Ours just happens to be a winger and so I struggle to see how playing what appears to be a 5-4-1 system – that is, a system with wing-backs and two wingers (albeit one tucked in more) , does anything other than nullify our main threat, whilst leaving us somewhat short in the middle of the pitch. Anyway, it was all immaterial really, as we were obviously not going to go to a team two leagues below us and play five at the back and only one up top. Obviously not…

The beers began to flow and it dawned on us that with capacity capped at 300 we should probably begin to get a move on to the ground. We are after all quite the potential giant killing here. And we were right too. Arriving quarter of an hour before kick off, the line was snaking out of the car park. Bollocks.

Fortunately for me, by virtue of helping out down the club over lock down, I was able to wangle myself a comp ticket and sneak on through – leaving Steve in the line. I know. Shit friend. Still, any smugness was soon wiped off my face as the teams were read out over the tannoy. Five at the back and one up top. Bollocks.

To compound matters, Steve then messaged the group to say the gates had shut at 300 and he wasnt allowed in. Fortunately, all those pre-seasons friendlies at Poole Town back in the early 2000’s has made El Gen quite the expert at climbing into tinpot grounds. And ten minutes later he comes strutting along the touchline like a peacock/the chairman approaching Wimborne fans.

El Gen, all smiles from sneaking in and breaking government covid regulations. The smiles would stop from here.

Christchurch were straight out the blocks as you’d guess them to be and picking up the majority of loose balls in midfield in the early exchanges. But after a bout of pressure, we went ahead through Tom Blair. Picking up the ball in the middle of our half, he turned a ran. Beating the first man on the inside, the second man on the outside, and then riffled a shot into the far corner. A proper “nestles” if ever there was one. Lovely, we crack on from here….

Or not. A couple of half chances were all we could muster following that and Christchurch began to grow back into the game. Shooting down the hill they had the majority of play, by virtue of closing us down quickly, winning the second balls and playing in the right areas. Basics, one might say.

The half time whistle almost came with a little relief. But never mind, shooting down the hill second half, bit of a rocket up their arses by Leigh at half time and we’ll crack on from here.

Or not.

Merely a matter of minutes into the second half and Christchurch lob a ball, from deep, towards the back post. Will Buse, decides he fancies this one over 6ft5 Sam Poole but can only muster a flap at it. It lands at the thankful feet of Christchurch’s impressive, and excellently named, Ron Frost. His shot deflects of Dunstan, Lowes, the post and Madden, before ending up in the net. Bollocks.

From here, Christchurch sensed a famous victory and we were second best throughout, falling deeper and deeper as the match went on. The introduction of our two best strikers (now, there’s an idea!) saw us get a little more into it, but it was still the home team picking up all the loose balls and on top.

And just as you begin to find peace with the idea that Christchurch were going to take us to penalties (Christchurch FFS!), they pick up one of those loose balls in the middle of our half. Two seconds, one run and three half-hearted challenges later and the ball is riffled past Buse by Harvey White to set the Christchurch players – and the hundred or so Christchurch fans who weren’t there as neutrals – wild. And frankly, it was utterly deserved, and I found myself clapping Christchurch rather than in howls of despair, such was the obviousness of it all.

The drive home with Berry and Cooky was one of the most depressing I’ve had in a while… and not because of Berry and Cooky, I should point out. Perhaps it was the realisation of another false dawn that hurt the most? Perhaps it was the fact that we went to a team two leagues below us, played five at the back and left our two main strikers on the bench? Perhaps it was just the sheer lack of effort we had just witnessed. Whatever it was, it was neatly summarised by Steve yelling “its the mentality… it’s the fucking mentality” non-stop from Christchurch to Crossways, where I was relieved to jump out.

Whatever it was, it’s clear that something isn’t right or close to it, and whilst it’s early in the season and a completely new group of players who are still getting to know each other, the problems that have been evident all pre-season still remain. Namely, no attacking threat other than through a mazy-run from Blair, and we look consistently a man light in the middle of the pitch. It’s early enough to fix and easy enough to do too.

Still, two winnable games up next to lift the mood, starting with Yate on Saturday. I’ve not the hunger to sit in a car for three hours to watch it. I’ve learnt better. CM

“Either that toilet is blocked or someone in here has a kidney infection.”

New Year’s Eve is, for me, the shittest night out of the year. On the face of it, it should be brilliant. Loads of people about, all the pubs open, Bank Holiday the next day and it is pretty much a free pass as everyone is expected to be hungover the next day. Yet it is nearly always a big fucking let down. Someone peaks too early and needs to go home by ten o’clock, the group gets spilt up as some want to visit a different pub to others, there’s an argument about who has the most convincing Mexican costume, and before you know it, it’s gone midnight, no one noticed and you’ve then got the prospect of a extortionate taxi for one home as everyone else has disappeared. It is a night that can never live up to the hype and expectation and is invariably a big disappointment that promises much and delivers little.

This brings me neatly on to the first game of the season, very much the New Years Eve of sporting events. After a very fortuitous coronavirus based escape when the likes of Melksham and Bristol Manor farm beckoned, we were given a reprieve and have another shot at having a respectable season in the Southern Premier League. I say respectable, the oracle that is Berry informs us we are yet to finish in the top half of this league since our relegation from the Conference South, so anything that doesn’t see us looking over our shoulder with six games to play would be an improvement. So with the new season starting on Saturday following a close season period of squad overhaul and off as well as on field changes, we got back into old habits as the new season dawned. Would the first game back up the most cautious sense of optimism we had beforehand? Would it fuck. That said, it wasn’t all bad and even we’re not naïve enough to judge the season based on one game.

Rogues gallery.

After months of lockdown and the writing of several blogs looking back on more successful times in the clubs past, it was nice to be able to fall back into the old habits of meeting before the game, talking nonsense, having a few beers and being fully prepared for the game to kick us in the balls by ten past three. There was a unique twist to this occasion though as we were the match sponsors. Any dress code, I asked. No, was the answer from Cam. So as I made my way back home from London on the Friday, Cam would the tell us that actually it was smart casual. Having come home with nothing but shorts, t-shirt and a jumper, the half smart trousers I had as a teenager were inexplicably still at Mum’s home in Dorch, so they were utilised as I attempted to polish the turd that is my outward appearance. In truth, they were totally unnecessary as we all looked as smart as you’d expect a bunch of non-league football fans to appear.

We did some ‘painting’. Tried to get AWH in but not for the first time, we were unable to agree terms.

But as we met as Spoons and Cam, El Generale and the lesser spotted Phil met up, the conversations went as if there had been no enforced break from football at all. Over beers and my lattes, the usual topics of VAR, Steve’s undying love for Eddie Howe and Phil’s flip flops dominated the discussion, but it was the state of the club that unites/divides us all, DTFC, that was the obvious underlying topic. In truth, we have no real idea of what to expect from this season. From the recruitment and limited friendlies that have been seen, we can draw some conclusions about our side, but the rest of a league remains somewhat of a mystery. Our knowledge of other clubs is limited mainly to players who we’ve heard of signing for clubs around us, regional knowledge, and we can guess some clubs have more money than others. But with the pandemic altering pre-season, finances, recruitment and almost every facet of the game at all levels, it’s a guessing game as to how the league will go. With Blackfield and Langley withdrawing from the league and rumours about another potential drop out, nothing is certain in terms of relegation places, all we can comment on with any authority is our own side and club. And even then, we’re hardly the best judges of these things…

Here, I’ll praise the club for some of the work done during the pandemic and in the sawn off pre-season we’ve had. With long term figures and hand shaking tag team champions, Matt Lucas and Dave Ring stepping down from their roles after years of service for the club, there has been movement of personnel on and off the field, but we seem to have got a lot done despite the upheaval. ‘The Magpies Fund’ raised good money when the club was unable to use its chief revenue stream of the 3G pitch, the snack bar is now ran ‘in house’ so no more fucking WFC polo shirts there, efforts have been made to ensure the stadium is kept in better shape as it was starting to show its age to say the least, although the drainage in the gents could do with being looked at, the youth set up and team behind it has been improved (it will take a brave player to mouth off to either Dan Claxton or Brian Churchill…) and the manager has been able to go about his recruitment for the first team early and in his own manner. The club does genuinely seem to be moving in the right direction and appears to be making efforts to ensure the foundations are sound as well. Saturday was always going to be a tough game as Weston-super-Mare are one of the few clubs who we see to know anything about.

“What’s the Abbott Ale like?”

In the bar at table reserved in our name as we’re basically corporate sell-outs, we mused as to what we expected. The consensus was that we’d be good at the back but potentially not offer as much as we maybe should going forward. A draw was largely accepted as being a reasonable expectation given the WSM would likely be one of the better sides in the division and we were still finding out feet. As we got the team sheets, it looked like we’d be playing wingbacks with Plymouth loanee Rubin Wilson being the main attacking outlet. As we trudged out onto the terrace with our beers (Dabbs, the two other freebies from the match sponsorship shall be claimed at a later date!), it was just nice to be back watching live football. It was also a competitive game which took on a double meaning for me as not only was it a league fixture, we’d also been humped 5-0 and 3-0 in the two previous ‘competitive’ league games I’d seen. The game would soon settle into what would be its familiar pattern of Weston having more of the ball, but not doing much with it as we sat and defended well, sometimes dropping back to our won 18 yard line but rarely further back. 10 minutes in though and we’d take the lead with what was actually a good goal.

Picture; Graham Hunt Photography

Winning the ball on the right hand side just inside our own half, Tom Blair would run at and beat two defenders and his ball across goal was turned in by the sliding Wilson for a debut goal and we’d find ourselves 1-0 up. This was a rare position to find ourselves in given our last seasons form, so the novelty for us fans was quite welcome. The game would then go back into the holding pattern of a lot of Weston possession but no real threat. A shot from 20 or so yards hit the post with our debutant keeper Will Buse scrambling, but shots from distance was all Weston really mustered deepest having the bulk of possession. We offered very little going forward, save for one curling Blair effort that went just over, but with Weston limited to pot shots and a few corners, that although causing Buse an co a few problems as they quickly realised he wasn’t looking overly comfortable with dead balls put into the six yard box, never caused any real danger, we looked like we might make it to halftime with a lead. This was not to be the case.

A lengthy stoppage after an injury to Weston’s Nick McCootie would see several added minutes of stoppage time and as that was approaching, Sam Poole would knock a back pass to Buse. Buse had time to take and despite setting himself, scuffed his clearance straight to the impressive James Waite, who was able to control and curl the ball into the unguarded net. 1-1 and it was probably a fair reflection on how the game had gone, but we couldn’t take that score into halftime as after causing problems with corners into the box, Chris Knowles headed Weston in front six minutes into injury time and it was all too easy. Charlie Madden (we think) was quick to hold his hand up an apologise, but in truth, we’d looked shaky from set pieces all game.

The halftime chat mainly centred on how we needed to offer more going forward as we’d been dominated in terms of possession and although we looked more than competent defending in open play, set pieces had been a concern. Sure enough we’d concede another header from a corner 8 minutes into the second half, and as the inquest went on at the back as to who should have claimed the ball, who missed a header or lost a man, the game was effectively over. Weston could afford to sit a bit deeper and we lacked a creative spark to get us going. The introduction of Tom Bath, Harry Hodges and Ashley Wells didn’t really make a huge difference, and although we had some better possession and got a few crosses in, we never looked like scoring. In truth we could have conceded more had it not been for alert defending and good goalkeeping, but a 3-1 defeat was probably a fair reflection of what was a disappointing opening day.

So where did it go wrong, what was promising, what needs improvement. Well despite the score line, I actually thought we looked okay defensively in open play. Set pieces were a worry and Will Buse will not want to see the goals back, but as a unit, I though that Oakley, Dunston, Poole, Madden and Sa looked tidy and never unduly worried when defending from open play. We look a far more imposing side physically, something we’ve not looked in years, and there is definitely more of an edge to the squad. It may sound daft, but having at least one or two adult males over the height of six foot has been a rarity in previous seasons. If we’re lucky enough to avoid another lockdown and suspension of the season, I can see this side not folding against teams in midweek fixtures on cold shitty night in suburban London as in previous years. WSM will probably be one of the better sides (their numbers 6 and 9 were excellent, I thought) and playing on a surface like our 3G suited them better than us it seemed. But after one game, it can’t be all doom and gloom. We’ve no doubt the manger has targets in mind as to who he thinks can improve us and one game won’t define the season.

‘Smart casual.’

With that said, we offered very little going forward and were disjointed throughout. Rubin Wilson got his goal but was starved of service, we were unable to get Tom Blair in possession as often as we’d have liked as he was our most dangerous outlet by far, Bayston, Clarke and Lowes all struggled to get a foothold in the game, and our subs weren’t able to influence it too much. We are a new side, we have had some positive results in pre-season and there are some encouraging enough signs on and off the field that we are moving in the right direction. This season is going to be a strange affair with all that is going on in the world and there is a genuine chance we may end up pausing the season again as restrictions change. But I don’t think a season of consolidation is a bad thing. After five to ten games, the league will start to take a bit more shape, the odds and the results at the weekend not really giving any real indication of what to expect. But I think the upper reaches of midtable would be a solid foundation for us to push on from as we try and turn the club around from being hindered by an overly generous mind-set and ethic into being a bit more of a bunch of win at all costs shithouses who aren’t really that keen on the opposition having a nice day out.

Bar conversation was a predictable debrief of what we’d seen, a few pearls of wisdom from the chairman that aren’t suitable for broadcast, and Cam nearly falling asleep as the night went on. We were joined by Spud who not only had not been seen at the avenue for a while, now looks suspiciously like a more rounded version of the ex-Spurs midfielder, Stuart Nethercott, from the 90’s with his blonde brows and complexion. Spud and Cam ended up assisting Shanks with some parenting by democracy as Otis and Inzi asked questions that evidently only those tow could answer, and our musing went on until about ten when we all decided we’d had enough. For what its worth, Oakley got our vote for man of the match, and as we all filed out, us in the direction of the Chinese, Shanks and his two rascals in tow off home, we all said how we had enjoyed being back for a proper game, but would love to see something more to be enthused about. At least the kit looked nice.

We have a chance to get the season going properly tonight as we head to away to Christchurch (managed by former DTFC player and league winner, Ollie Cherrett) in the FA Cup, before two winnable games away at Yate and home to Wimborne this Saturdayand next Tuesday respectively. Hopefully we’ll have something positive to report back on from those, in the meantime I’ll be off to look at possible historic blog topics for any second lockdown and hope that Steve gets over the double blow of Eddie Howe leaving Bournemouth and Brian Stock joining W*****th. SV