I felt the need to go to one long distance away game this season - Plymouth was my choice. And since none of my friends seemed to want to come; I chose to go alone, yes, alone.
If I was to say it was thrilling, I'd be lying, although for the trip up there I was accompanied by some of the Oxford faithful, singing various songs and reminiscing of past games - funny stuff it must be said.
But for the majority of it I was sat there contemplating revision (sorry mum) as there was just too much to see out the window. Such as the sea! And, as I am from Oxford, this is a rarity; I was sure to make a sandcastle.... I didn't.
Arriving in Plymouth was tragic. Dad had told me to visit Hue Park because it's where Francis or someone saw a boat (which is kinda important in English history). Sounded shit. So I wandered around for a bit, grabbed a map, got lost, then got a taxi to the ground. The taxi driver was nice, apart from later realising he had short changed me by a whole one pound.
This pound would prove significant as once in the ground serious budgeting had to take place to accommodate emergency money, a burger and some water. I had to sacrifice a burger, all would've been fine if he'd just given me my fucking pound! Twat.
Then the Military Wives performed, excellent.
Anyway, for this match I felt the need to be one of the faithful, so, standing amongst the corner of singers I "sang my heart out for the lads".
Two minutes in we were one down! Complete fluke from the man that when announced on the team sheet "Let me Entertain You" blasts out, Robbie Williams had scored.
Wayne Brown makes a blinder of a save.
Morgan seems to be trying harder.
Jake Wright with assist of the season plays it through to Asa Hall, he thumps it from 35 yards and its one all. Game on!
Half time comes and the entertainment is hearing that Swindon are losing.
The beginning of the second half was accompanied with a lady four rows down calling some bloke a homophobe and him being a grudge-holding-nob for the rest of the match.
Leven then hit the post on about 50 minutes with the slowest freekick known to man, thinking this was a sign of things to come we all got very excited.
Nothing happened and that would prove to be our one notable chance of the half.
Dean Morgan then dived, then gave up for a couple of chances.
Oh God I wish I had the money for that burger.
We begin to chant "You only sing in your tractor", which gets the fist moving from left to right reaction
In other news, the homophobic fight is still going on.
Full Time and Plymouth are staying up, well done to them, after thrashing them 5-1 earlier this season you'd think they're a completely different team.
So, I decided to get the earlier train. Little did I know there would be some dick as the ticket inspector who would kick me off at Totnes.
Two hours I was there for, alone with a pastie I was rationing that I had paid for with my card. And if you're wondering where Totnes is, don't worry, it's a little village with a train station T________T that big.
I was hoping to find love like the guy on the Match.com advert, it failed every time as surprisingly no one ever got off at Totnes.
The train journey home was dull. I assumed Swindon had been promoted due to the drunk fans in the carriage behind. And the door wouldn't shut so I had the draft to end all drafts coming in through the door.
To top it all off the bus driver wouldn't let me on because apparently being thirty pence short is such a crime.
I got home at midnight! In time to watch The Football League Show, not in time to watch MOTD.
Why couldn't it have been a blinder of a match so my friends would be jealous? Why did Leven hit the post? Why did the woman accuse the man of homophobia? Why did the taxi driver short change me? Why did I pick the train with the dick ticket inspector? Why do Oxford always fuck it up?
So many questions, so little answers.
There's two things I've learnt from this:
Always take someone with you on an away trip.
And don't make homophobic jokes in front of old women.
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