The day was bright and sunny.....

 ...but the game I won't relay.

Lincolnshire Tom and I hummed and ahed about how we were going to get to the Grimsby game at Weymouth. Drive 2 1/2 hours each way, or take the train at 3 1/4 hours each way and nearly twice the cost? Well the answer was train of course. I'd like to say the decision was driven by concern for our carbon footprint, or by our desire to cut the income of autocrats who invade their neighbours. In reality it was because it was more relaxing that way and neither of us needed to be Designated Driver.

Not far from the station. Looking east towards Lulworth and the Isle of Purbeck

And we were mighty glad we did. There was quite a lot to see and talk about en route. We were on a geek fest. Two old geezers with interests in WWII, transportation, football (Tom) and military history generally, and football (me). Too busy geeking to take photos. Anyone foolish enough to listen in would have quickly got bored. Going past Brooklands (home of the old motor racing track, and now to a transport museum) we spotted Concorde. Winchester (the Rifles' museum). Southampton Airport Parkway (home of the original Spitfire factory) and nearby Eastleigh (Eastleigh Football Club - and location our last game of the regular season). Southampton docks with a staggeringly huge container ship. St Mary's Stadium (Southampton FC). By the time we got to Southampton we'd decided the Sun was over the yardarm. 

Then through the New Forest and on to Bournemouth station with its impressive glass canopy. The train split here - one part heading on to Weymouth, the other part going to .....well to be honest I didn't care. Out of Bournemouth and into Poole and around the enormous natural harbour. Thoughts of Overlord, already appearing from Winchester onwards, were taking over. Not forgotting Baden-Powell of course, with the first Scout camp on Brownsea Island. Wareham ("change here for the steam railway to Swanage via Corfe Castle". ECW siege). Wool. No need to remind you which museum is nearby. South of here lies the Army firing ranges. Dorchester South: no, neither of us knows any Hardy, but just around from there you pass Maiden Castle (Iron Age hill fort). Then the final run in to Weymouth. Lovely, fresh sea air.

Time for lunch. Stopped off at the first fish and chip shop we cam across. Always risky. Not always. Not this time. Very good, nice, white, flaky fish. Even if it was cod. It's GOT to be haddock in Grimsby & Cleethorpes. That is a tenet of faith, and one that has held true for generations. Not for nothing does the haddock bear St Peter's thumbprint. But this was cod and it was more than acceptable. Fish and chips, eaten outside on the prom, can't be beaten. Right, lunch over and thoughts turned to cold beverages. The advance party, had arrived the night before and the Globe was reported as being a welcoming hostelry with more than acceptable drinks. And they weren't wrong. Very helpful landlord, nice beer (Aethel Sword), chilled music playing on the wireless, and (sign of my age coming) nice clean toilets.

Along the route were some reminders of why we have such freedoms now.

Panel commemorating the staggering logistics involved in just one part of Overlord

Memorial to the US Army Rangers and their Royal Navy comrades 

Lest we forget.

Sadly it was soon time to head off to the match. A hike of a couple of miles must have walked off that beer. But it was pleasant walk for much of the route.

One of the compensations for your football club being relegated to the fifth tier of English football...

.....is that you get to walk past places like this

The game itself was mostly dull. Grimsby were clearly the superior team, but didn't make it count. Too slow to get the ball forward quickly. It was played at a pace not far removed from a pre-season friendly. A few nearly moments. And we almost paid the price for not taking advantage of our limited chances. Weymouth's defence were very well organised and we didn't really penetrate them. 0-0. Still other results were mostly in our favour, so the play offs are still possible. Who knows. But after the previous week's demolition of 3rd placed Chesterfield, a massive underachievement. Expectations suitably back under control.

Back in town, there was time for a few more beverages. The second pub we went in already had karaoke on the go. At 6PM! These people must start early. Again, a good Mein Host and friendly atmosphere. The journey back to the metropolis seemed to last for ever, with me getting hungrier and hungrier. Met another Grimsby exile heading back to the station just one stop up the line from us. Small world. That's the Grimsby diaspora for you. For 40 odd years, job prospects have not been good there. I guess, also, that there is a touch of wanderlust in the veins. Most of the population during the rapid growth in the 19th and early 20th centuries came from other places. It wasn't so far back that most people's family had moved for work. The reverse has been happening for 4 decades. Consequently, you are never far from a Grimsby fan.

At this level the match officials are more like the officials of old.