Box

I slept all morning and got up at eleven-thirty. Uncle Kenneth and Shirley had dropped Nanna P. off and Mum and Dad were discussing the merits of three cars: Viva, Lada or Fiesta? Our old one has failed the MoT and will cost £500 to put right.

At quarter-after-two I set off to Cardigan Park. Athletic were playing second-in-the-table Bishophill, and as I got off the bus I met Robert. As we walked down to the ground he told me that they've been given another kitten, a tabby they've named Spike.

Athletic got off to a good start but an old bloke next to me kept tapping me on the shoulder or arm and droning on about how the team’s gone downhill since the ‘30s. I missed Athletic’s first goal because of him so we moved and shortly after Athletic scored again. A Pattison penalty put them 3-0 up by half-time. The atmosphere was exciting although that old uncertainty at the back made things tense and a bit nerve-racking. Ten minutes after the restart, Athletic scored again, a good header from a McArdle cross and then, unbelievably, scored a fifth; such a superb, happy feeling in the crowd! Bishophill never gave up, but they had such a poor defence that you could just tell when Easterby were going to score.

A typical Saturday teatime and evening of watching TV and drawing up league tables.