A DAY TO REMEMBER....OR JUST FORGET!!

Stepping from the black cab, after a very relaxing journey on the Gatwick express, made even more so by the refreshing vodka tonic consumed on route, I am confronted by this apparition of mass bodies and objects, decked out in royal blue and white. I can only describe it as an empire of two tone ants surrounding their favorite nesting place. They are everywhere, hustling for food and domain in this chosen territory. However, these two tone creatures are in fact staunch football supporters prepared to spend a fortune watching their idols kick a ball around a very green, well nurtured pitch, for the next ninety minutes.

What am I doing here, you ask? Me, a person who dislikes most forms of sport and finds the whole ritual of football passion, a mystery of human behavior, not forgetting the total waste of hard earned cash to boot.

The reason I am here is very simple. In a very tipsy moment, last new years eve, I caved in and agreed to accompany my husband, once only, to see his beloved Chelsea football team play, as a gesture of love and celebration of his fortieth birthday.

Here I now stand outside the 'hallowed ground' of Chelsea Football Club, Fulham Road, London SW6. After refusing to kneel down and kiss this sacred turf, I follow himself, through this throng of royal blue bodies, to a very privileged part of the Chelsea stadium, namely The Bentley Suite. Here I will partake of lavish food and view very famous faces before taking my reserved seat at the annual cost of unspeakable thousand pounds per person or should I say succor. My husband's construction Company shell out for four of these tickets per season, solely for entertaining prospective clients but more so, for the Marketing Director's profound personal pleasure. Guess what? My husband just happens to hold that particular job and of course has total control of this perk!!

We are finally sat at our designated table, after shaking numerous hands with assorted celebs, ex football players, wags, bit part actors and uncle Tom Cobley an all!!

The meal served, with a great deal of attentiveness , possibly has come from the shelves of 'Tesco's Finest' or M&S ten pound meal deal. I feel very disappointed but fear not, the best is yet to come..I have taken my stadium seat amongst the many businessmen, dignitaries, redundant footballers and possibly crooks, by the looks of some. I am awaiting the thrill and passion of watching twenty two obscenely overpaid talented individuals about to show me their skills and prowess with a football.

The game itself is proving very visual, as is the surrounding crowds. This sea of supporters swathed in blue. You can almost taste the excitement and anticipation oozing from their flesh. The noise and the shouts are now rising to a crescendo, as the players enter the ground from the tunnel. Rapturous applause now totally drowns out any sounds of jubilation from the opposition's minority supporters. The opposing team is representing my heritage..Bolton Wanderers. You can taste and smell the profound tension surrounding me, yet here I sit, handbag on knees, totally unmoved by this spectacle unfolding before my eyes. I am bored so I decide to people watch to kill time and amuse myself. My conclusion, as I look around at individuals from all walks of life. What idiots and what an utter waste of their hard earned cash. Still each to his own eh??

I have come to the conclusion that football is definitely a male dominated environment, judging by the ratio of men to women and boys to girls present, here today.

The husband is definitely not impressed by my static pose, during this game of 'footy' and visibly wounded by my summing up of the days events.

Should I ever feel the need to write an article of my first and last football experience I would give it the title...

HOW TO SCREW AN ASTUTE BUSINESSMAN...PERSUADE HIM TO BUY A CORPORATE FOOTBALL SEASON TICKET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!