Anthony’s Graduation and Fancy Dress: An Average Weekend by Modern Standards

The Village People famously wrote a song about the Navy, ‘In the Navy’, that was once featured in an episode of the Simpsons from 1998. 20 years later, yours truly and the Baldwin household would be joining approximately 400 people in congratulating the newest set of Royal Navy officers at HMS Raleigh in Plymouth Torpoint, Cornwall.

We would be travelling down from the Royal Borough to support a very good friend in the form of Anthony Osborn, who was due to complete 10 weeks of basic training the following day. Four hours down the M4, M5 and A38 would follow, arriving at the Number One B&B for 8:00pm; a nice hotel that would be our home for as little as 12 hours due to previous booking calamities…

A few pints were in order after such a journey, accompanying a Nando’s at level of heat that even Ethan from the Prague blog struggled to believe (admittedly, it was only a medium). A few pints in the Brass Monkey and the Slug & Lettuce, the latter of which was reminiscent of the First Dates restaurant forcing us to finish the Mortimer’s Orchard rather hastily. Home by 11 o’clock due to the following morning’s early departure.

“The Torpoint Ferry waits for no man,” wrote Ollie’s dad John on Facebook. Thankfully not similar to the ‘vomit comet’ known as the Stena Line ferry from Fishguard, the Torpoint equivalent is a chain link boat that costs the same as an evening parking charge in Maidenhead. The trip across the Tamar allowed us to arrive in good time to be shown what Anthony had been up to over the past ten weeks, albeit in the very positive fashion that ignores the strict discipline and 5:30am starts that Anthony had informed us about two weeks prior.

The recruits walked out one by one, almost of all of whom were able to keep a straight face bar a select few… We were then shown the accommodation whilst the rest of our group checked out the history of the submarines – they would in fact arrive back at the buffet after us, where they would discover the food had gone cold… about half an hour before we arrived! Not one for the vegan community with the selection available, but positives were found by a very modest £3.10 pint of Carling. 

Alcoholic drinks were not allowed on to the parade ground, so we met in the middle with the rules and brought the boozy remnants in under the guise of coffee cups. Parade time, a very proud tradition of the Royal Navy that does make for quite the spectacle, but we could not help but feel sorry for those in the centre of the court who were slowly being baked in the Cornish sun.

Hat’s thrown, hugs had, and pictures taken, we left the Osborn’s early to beat the rush of traffic as me and Ollie would be spending our second night at Colditz the Copthorne Hotel. Whilst perhaps not appealing from the outside, the Copthorne was a mere ten-minute walk from the train station meaning a quick get away was possible in the morning for Dagenham (A); furthermore, the hotel itself was all we could ask for i.e. it was cheap as chips and contained two separate beds.

Dinner would be at a gin distillery, where we met the rest of our troupe from earlier. A unique design, and certainly a first for myself – I wish I could give you more but the poor lad serving our drinks was on his first ever shift (we were also enjoying the vast array of drinks – make of that what you will!). Ribeye steak topped with garlic butter was my pick off the menu, cooked to medium rare, whilst Anthony settled for a burger…

The ‘yoof’ would depart Ant’s family in search of the nearest pub, which turned out to be The Ship just down the road. Thatcher’s Gold for the lads, Jägerbomb for us all. A ‘locals pub’ admittedly, discovered by the presence of a sofa next to our table, but £22.45 for 6 drinks so no mortgage required, thankfully.

Pub two; The Rust and Royal. Interrupted by a near trip into a gay bar, OMG, thanks to prior research by Oliver (I’m still furious that they skipped the opportunity to call the place O.M.Gay). Still on the Thatcher’s, we chose to sit outside under the brollies looking over the harbour. We would also ‘enjoy’ a double vodka Red Bull, and spontaneously agreed to book a holiday amongst the now three of us who remained. #FutureBlogIncoming

Fans of detailed blogging - look away now, as things become rather blurry from this point on. Anthony decided that we should all have a pint of Hophouse, whereas I decided to impose a double shot on the three of us (which Ollie sensibly refused). Apparently, we were in a Wetherspoons, and yours truly would finish his pint in as few as three sips. Moments later, I would be forced to repeat the feat as Ollie departed us on an odd minute leaving half a pint to be drank as the bouncer kindly asked us to leave at closing time.

One o’clock became club o’clock as we found a nearby club that, amazingly, let us past the velvet rope. The day had been slightly marred by the death of Avicii, so a tribute request was a necessity for the 20 and 21 hours awake Shay and Ant respectively. Request confirmed, I dragged Ant on to the dancefloor to the tune of Hey Brother, joined by about five other people having just as much fun.

One pint too many and sure enough we were asked to leave; Anthony would offer to take myself to my hotel, even after the struggle of remembering what room one was meant to be in (202 was far different from the 512 I had originally thought). Ant charged his phone sobered up a bit before making his way to Number One the WRONG HOTEL!! He informed me in the morning that he had spent five or so minutes knocking on room 21 of the Drake, next door to Number One, before realising he was in the wrong building entirely; despite his best efforts, he failed to wake the residents of the same room in the adjacent hotel. 23 hours after we both woke up, we were both in bed, kind of, and ready for a lay in the next morning.

I would wake up at approximately 7:30, as Ollie left with my suitcase on Argyle duty. Yours truly, on the other hand, would be on the train to Dagenham for Fancy Dresslemania, an annual ritual started almost twenty years ago where travelling Maidenhead United supporters would dress up in costume for the last away game [on a Saturday] of the season.

“Booyakasha!” I groaned to the receptionist. That’s right, Saturday 21^st April 2018 would be spent dressed as Sacha Baron Cohen’s famous Ali G. Room checked out of, I would make the 8:51 to London Paddington with seconds to spare.

Recovering, starving, dehydrating, the lot. About as typical as a hangover on four hours sleep dressed as a man who thinks “I iz black” can get. The attention, mainly the photographs, “oh it’s Ali G!!” and the honking of the horns as I walked past made me glad I’d done my research the night before. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-xNK40z6Bg&t=101s 

Arriving in Dagenham for 2:00pm, where I would meet the rest of our travelling horde for Dagenham (A). Such visitors to the Eastbrook pub would include a hippy (photographer Mick, who would in fact be match-day snapping in his costume), Agent K from Men in Black (Sam P), Alan Devonshire from 1986 (Foz), Radioactive Man (Murdo), Cobra Kai (Callum), whilst others congregated at the Pipe Major down the road.

Match time, £21 poorer, and a disappointing game that would ruin a ‘6 wins from 6 games’ finish to the season. Despite mid-week resilience against third-placed Sutton, the Magpies struggled against a Dagenham side, potentially in their last home game as a club (see an interesting article here for reasons why: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-5645013/ON-ROAD-incredible-tale-Donald-Trump-Dagenham-Redbridge.html), who had played a mere 44 hours before. Michael Cheek would get the only goal of the game early on.

A disappointing last final away game (on a Saturday) of the season, but a few Dagenham fans were willing enough for a photo with Ali G which are most likely circulating around phone galleries in East London. We gate-crashed the end of season party in the Victoria Road club house, joined by a rather bemused Dagenham squad as Ali G, Alan Devonshire and a gangster (Taylor) got the rounds in.

Train home, as I continued to cook in the yellow bin bag outfit. Me, Agent K, Alan Dev and Cobra Kai would meet Sutton United’s Gandermonium in King’s Cross, who were relishing in the aftermath of a 1-0 win over E££sfleet.

The younger two of us left Alan and Cobra Kai to it and decided to head home to Maidenhead to separate house parties; the McDonalds at Paddington contained more people who “may have sounded mad but wanted a picture,” before making it home alongside a hen party – more photos on the Internet…

Thankfully I’d prepared a spare change of clothes for the day so after 20 minutes of house partying (and further dehydrating), I was able to quickly change, like Superman in a telephone box, back into reality. We would stay until about 12:30, as 5/7 of the upcoming Zante holiday (#FutureBlogIncoming) grabbed a lift from Chris.

And that would be that; one of the more eventful weekends of my life, in which approximately 600 miles were travelled all for different purposes. I would remain on a relatively low budget for the remainder of the month, so I for one was glad to see the end of the football season. Thankfully I was not at work on the Sunday, so I would be able to recover to some extent from the pints gallons of alcohol consumed over the previous weekend. That’s one way to prepare for exams!