I have fallen into the habit of wearing my Charlton Athletic Football shirt every Saturday. I bought it a few years ago when my cricketing friend James and I were going to a match, and I suppose it helps me blend in to the local community. The thing is, I often forget I’m wearing it, and it has a tendency to cause some reactions – both positive and negative – from people I pass in the street. Today, for instance, I was over in Charlton to buy a couple of things from the chemist there, and random people kept cheering and whooping me. Despite the shirt, I don’t pay much attention to football, so I couldn’t tell you who Charlton are playing, how they are doing or whatever; yet people seem to assume I know, as if I’m a member of a club. Once or twice in the past I’ve been shouted at just for wearing the shirt, and it has taken me a few moments to work out why I’m receiving random abuse: Charlton must have beaten whatever team they supported. On the whole, though, the shirt helps me feel like a real south Londoner, although I have to be careful when I go close to Millwall fans.