Chronicles of the Berkshire Pig: So Surrey

Camberley Town v Hanworth Villa

Although originally planning for Shrivenham, Cirencester or at best Odd Down this evening, an early finish gave the opportunity to travel a bit further afield and so it was a mid-afternoon HST to the east.

The train passes right by Didcot power station and this was the first time I'd noticed the eerie remains of the collapsed building, with noticeable orange dots where rescue workers were still searching for the missing bodies.

At Reading, appalling signalling meant we crawled into the station, so the sharp connection onto a Gatwick service was missed, and instead it was the South West Trains all shacks.

One of only three UK stations with a shape in its name.

Eventually it was alighted at Wokingham.

Pre-match was to be spent clearing a few stockbroker belt guide pubs, hoping for the lull between the lunchtime crowd of retired Lance Colonel Port-Vale and the evening crowd of city Jeremys and their Sloaney offspring.

Wokingham is true blue tory territory, but revenge comes in many ways in that they are inflicted with having to vote for John Redwood. However, there were some hoardings in the park, which judging by those sneaking in and out, concealed some sort of crack den.....

....but sported some very un-Wokingham like graffiti.

The walk took me down Finchampstead Road, past the former ground of Wokingham Town. They spent big trying to get in the conference, having to sell the ground as a result. A replacement was never forthcoming and they now share with Henley. However, no mention of the club can pass without a link to the video of the outstanding strop by uber cunt ground hopper Barry the Twat, as he demands the ref restarts the game as he has missed kick off.

My first stop was the Crispin, situated next to Wokingham Therapy Centre and Harmony - the good Karma shop.

The Crispin is reputedly the oldest pub in Wokingham, and my karma came in the form of a Vale - Punk is dead (long live the corporations) and flaming hot Monster Munch (the only snack ordered by colour).

Some helpful advice from outside. Though the greater sight was a premises combining a Hollywood Nail bar with a knitting outlet.

Second guide pub was the Queens Head, situated above the town green. Despite being a Greene King outlet, it had a few independents on stick, and a Bond - Best of British was had as the others all had rugby affiliated names.

It was soon back to the station for the next move, another SWT unit to Sunningdale.

This passes through Bracknell and the ICL, the birthplace of British computing (post Babbage). I dare you to find a duller picture on the Internet.

And so into Sunningdale.....

....where the footbridge still sported smoke deflectors from the steam age. So there is a duller picture than the ICL building.

Sunningdale is the sort of place where Gary Lineker and stick ball enthusiast live. My purpose was to clear the two guide pubs without spotting a Waitrose. This involved a fairly dark walk through the outskirts of Windsor Great Park.

It is almost impossible for village clubs to get planning permission for floodlights in these parts. But little Johnny's tennis club, no problem.

This took me to the first tick, the Royal Oak, where a Tim and the Dragon lured me in, only to find it was an inevitable Greene King House Ale rebadge. When will I learn?

The next pub was intriguing as it was a Harvey's tie. These are rare enough in Sussex so to get one in Surrey is pretty unique. But then I suppose I though that about Greene King a few years ago. Anyway, a house Armarda pale ale was enjoyed.

A quick dash back to the Royal Oak saw me arrive just as my bus to Ascot did.

One of the reasons for this particular trip was to get one of the peak hour Ascot - Guildford services as these use the race day platforms at the former, which were required for me.

The main platforms at Ascot are two sided to speed up unloading on race days.

I had a ten minute wait so I went off guide and headed for the Station Inn for a Deuchars. What a mistake. Awful.

Soon we were off on our merry way and in to Camberley.

There was one GBG, a horific high street Whetherspoons It is almost unheard of for me to leave a drink but tonight I did. The Hydes - Provenance Bruges was just undrinkable.

A 20 minute walk to almost the outskirts of Frimley, crossed the railway and from the bridge, the floodlights of Krooner Park could be seen.

Heading past a string of kebab shops, bang on kick off time I entered Krooner Road....

....only to find this was not the entrance to the ground.

Instead a spiral movement through an industrial estate landed me at the entrance.

My arrival as greeted by a loud bang as a ball landed on the bonnet of a Volvo and straight in to my heaving bosom. Turning up at the pay gate with the match ball is a new one for me and made me feel like an RAF parachutist.

Camberley Town v Hanworth Villa, Cherry Red Records Combined Counties League, Premier Division.

Camberley have been going for a hundred or so years, mostly in the Surrey Senior League (the precursor to the Combined Counties) before Rick Wakeman put some money into them and they rose to the Athenian and Isthmian leagues, before dropping down to the Combined Counties where they have been since. Their most noteable players are Phil Stant and Adam Crozier. Yes, him.

I don’t know much about Hanworth Villa. They have been going since the 1970s, doing not a lot in the Middlesex league, until the early 2000s when they rose to the Combined Counties. They are from the Southern fringes of Feltham.

Needing something to soak up the beer, I took advantage of the Camberley full monty.

I was convinced I had been to Krooner Park before, but have no recollection of it or any record. So this was an unexpected scratch. For the second night in a row, the pitch had a significant slope.

It used to have a delightful woodern stand, but this burnt down in the early nineties and was replaced by this offering.

Behind the goal is this homage to everyones second favourite top gear presenter, after the bloke from Supergrasses dad.

Although I had only arrived a few minutes into the game, the bloke on the turnstile was convinced it should already have been 3-0.

He soon got his wish as firstly a break away saw the home striker round the keeper, only for a defender to catch the ball on the line. The defender was sent off….

….and Camberley scored the subsequent penalty.

The miscreant Hanworth player then ambled around to the dug outs. As he passed me, without me offering any words to him, he looked at me quizzically and stated ‘I don’t know why the fuck I did that?’. Instant player access that Sky could only hope for.

As I was walking around the ground, Camberley were awarded another penalty, which they scored.

I then went for a piss and through the very indiscreet near opaque windows of the urinals, I watched the third goal being scored.

The signs for the gents were bespoke for Camberley fans with unequal shoulders.

A closer look at a certain OTF contributor's “kit of the decade”. I have to admit, I do like the numbers in circles.

Camberley scored another before half time, then had two more penalties in the second half, scoring one and missing one.

Hanworth then came back a bit and got a couple of consolation goals, and 5-2 was how the game ended.

A brisk walk through an industrial estate and along a dual carriage took me to Blackwater station on the North Downs line, which has a direct service to Reading. A few minutes to spare gave the opportunity for a Marlow Rebellion - Smuggler in the GBG Mr Bumble just up from the station I forgot to take a photo until I was down the road......