Lyn and I live just up the hill from The Valley, Charlton athletic’s football ground. It’s not far away at all – in fact I often go past the stadium on my way to Asda or Greenwich. On match days yellow cones are laid out along our road to prevent parking. That is how, yesterday morning, seeing the cones out, I decided to go to the match.

I had been thinking of doing it for some time. Football isn’t usually my cup of tea – I prefer cricket – but there is no escaping the fact that it is a major part of our culture. Time, then, for me to go see what the fuss is about. Of course, I had been to matches before: I think my parent took me to a Macclesfield Town game once, when we had a German exchange student staying with us, and a couple of years ago I went to a Charlton game with Andrzej. But the difference this time is that I was alone, so I was like any other casual fan. In a way, the cool thing is what I did yesterday was not a major event, but something a great many men do on a Saturday afternoon: just pop down to the footie match.

It went very well indeed, despite the score. The only problem I had was when it came to buy the ticket: the lady in the booth could not see my Ipad, so I backed off, razzed over to a nearby steward, and explained my problem. He kindly helped me buy my ticket, and then showed me to my wheelchair space. I had gone down fairly early, to give myself plenty of time, so while I was waiting for the match to start I took the opportunity to do a little research on my Ipad. Charlton athletic was founded in 1905 and originally played at a ground up by the river.

The game itself was nothing special. I thought Charlton had some good passages of possession, but failed to capitalise. Huddersfield were the lesser team, but got a lucky goal. However, I must say I found the crowd much more entertaining: I don’t think I have ever heard so many obscenities in my life. What they were saying usually made no sense either: what does ”make it yours” mean anyway? How does entreating the fellow on the pitch to keep the ball, then hurling the most obscene abuse at him when he fails to do so help in any way? It was great fun listening to them. Mind you, the stadium was by no means full: I can’t wait to hear what that place sounds like with a capacity crowd.

I think, then, that I’ve found a new hobby. I think I will be going again – after all, it couldn’t be much easier to get too. Good, clean, safe fun which gets me out of the house for a couple of hours. It also offers a fascinating insight into working class male culture: I’ve always been interested in the difference between the (traditionally) masculine and feminine, and how that divide can be traversed. You know, while narrative cinema is still my main obsession, there is still room for me to become a football fan. I wonder what Lyn would say if I got myself a Charlton strip. No, wait, I just had an idea: where could I get a leotard in Charlton Athletics colours?