Penrith 2-1 Northallerton Town, Wednesday 4th November 2020

Penrith 2-1 Northallerton Town, The Frenchfield Stadium, Northern League Division 1, att. 120

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I was due to visit Penrith AFC a fortnight ago, when, as I was about to set off from the Wetherspoons in town, I got a call from the hospital.  There’d been complications with regards to my dad’s operation to have a pacemaker fitted, his blood pressure had plummeted and it was ‘touch and go whether he’ll make it.’  Cue a teary mad dash across the North Pennines in driving rain to Darlington Memorial Hospital…to find his blood pressure had recovered, he looked like he was going to survive…and the consultant could go home having stayed on an extra four hours to ensure her patient didn’t bite the dust (a major downside of the job, one would think).

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Anyway, here we are and he’s still alive (just), still very weak, but in rehab awaiting a fairly imminent departure – home, not to the graveyard.  I figure if he’s home, I won’t be able to travel too far from my County Durham base, so best to get one of these further flung destinations out of the way.  Plus Penrith is actually a place worth visiting. Last time I went off the beaten track to visit the Neolithic stone circle of ‘Long Meg and her Daughters’ and then the town’s castle.  The former was good for a quiet moment’s contemplation (I could have done with that later!) while the latter was good for teens hanging out together after school.  My town had a pizza shop the cool kids used to congregate around.  What a difference.

Long Meg and some of her daughters.

Today though I called in at Brougham Castle, just outside Penrith and right next to the A66 I came in on.  It’s a spectacular location too, based as it is at the confluence of the rivers Eamont and Lowther.  It was open as well – as long as you pre-booked!  I hadn’t.  Why would I?  Oh yes, there’s this thing called ‘Coronavirus’.  Oh well, I saw it.  With time on my hands, I decided to drive to Ullswater, about 6 miles the other side of Penrith, through more amazing countryside, before accidentally coming across Pooley Bridge, a place I’d only ever heard of on Look North (the local news for the…ahem…north region, which I forget includes the far north-west).  It now has the world’s first stainless steel road bridge (wow!), replacing a previous one washed away in storms 5 years previous. 

Brougham Castle

All that still gave me time to hit Penrith for pre-match tucker, so I was back to where it all began: ‘spoons.  And what with the country being placed on lockdown from midnight, this seemed the place to be; I saw more cleavages in an evening than I have in 6 months, as several small gangs of young females entered.  (Not many males though; maybe they were appearing later.)  I was also taken aback to see some underboob action.  See this from ‘Urban Dictionary’:

Hands down, one of the finest aspects of a woman's anatomy that can be enjoyed in any public venue.

Underboob is achieved by wearing a very short halter top or cropped tank, also known as an underboob shirt, which exposes the bottom areas of a woman's breasts.

Much like the combination of low-rise jeans and a thong, the underboob shirt can only successfully be worn by select few women.

In an ideal situation, a hottie will wear an underboob shirt to accessorize her low-rise jeans/thong combination. When this happens, all men in the vicinity will regard her as "hot" or "a sexy bitch", while their wives/girlfriend may refer to her as "trashy" or "a slutty bitch", but that's okay. Everyone knows she's a sexy bitch and they all want to do her.

Anyway, imagine a blonde wearing THIS but in yellow.  In Penrith.  (She was later thrown out for ‘playing with the switches’, ha ha)

Back to reality.  Penrith is a decent-sized place (pop: 17,000) plus surrounding villages, but their football team is poorly supported.  Possibly this is historic (Penrith also has a rugby club) but it can’t be helped by the location of the Frenchfield Stadium – a couple of miles out of town, the floodlights highly visible at night from the A66, as I discovered on my last visit.  Still, what it does have is a magnificent stand, with social club at the back, with full view of the pitch, though a small platform behind the seats allows for standing.  Probably the best view in the Northern League, given how low most of the stands are elsewhere.  Opposite was a small (metal) terrace with roof, while a wooden fence surrounded the rest of the ground, perfectly in keeping with its country surrounds.  Though being a night game, we also had an array of brightly lit lorries climbing the hill of the A66 towards the promised land of County Durham.

Inside the clubhouse

A second bonus was the appearance of former Northern League chairman and erstwhile Northern Echo correspondent Mike Amos, who’d brought along a few copies of his book to sell.  I grabbed the last one of 6.  He lacks ambition, does that lad.  Mind, he can’t have been impressed as I took to picking an argument with his mate, the PA announcer.  The latter had used the mic to welcome the news that Sheffield Wednesday’s punishment for breaking FFP rules (or ‘cheating’ as it’s known) was to be reduced from a 12 points deduction to 6.  This will be the difference between them going down and staying up, mark my words.  Or at the very least, provides the impetus for them to shoot up the table.  ‘Justice’ my new friend called it.  (Yes, he’s a Wednesday fan.)  Licence for every team in the Championship to continue overspending in the vain hope of reaching the Prem.

Practicing?  Should be experts by now...

I’d done a lap of the ground pre-match, but as much as I love to stand, I couldn’t resist a view; back row of the stand.  A local came out and I swear he scowled at me, but he lightened up when I offered him the seat, thinking I’d upset a regular.  No, he was fine, he’d stand.  He was rewarded too, as Penrith battered a Northallerton side 6 points ahead of them in the table.  Woodwork was struck twice, the keeper pulled off 3 or 4 great saves and yet more shots were off target.  It coulda…shoulda been half a dozen.  Instead, we reached half time one-all.  The only conversation around me was how many Penrith should be on…I heard anywhere between 3 and 6, and as I say, I’d have gone high.  They certainly didn’t look a bottom 4 team (indeed, joint bottom till they destroyed Billingham Town 5-2 in the basement battle I missed two weeks earlier).

The ref points this way, the player that.

The second half was nowhere near as fraught, though Penrith continued their ability to find the woodwork within 2 minutes of the restart when a hook rebounded back into play.  Otherwise, chances were fewer, despite the added space as the teams tired.  And perhaps that was the key to ‘The Bonny Blues’ (Penrith’s) victory, as a lazy challenge resulted in a penalty.  Portly/stocky striker Kingsley Grandison bagged his second (the 1^st, a lovely strike on the edge of the box from a corner).  Be wary the non-league centre forward who doesn’t look quite the part for football; he will undoubtedly be the cleanest striker of a ball at the club.  Or a fat lump making up the numbers.

Each team even has their own tunnel.

The Damage:
£6 ent
£1.50 tea (most expensive in league; do teabags cost more over the border in Cumbria?)
£1 minute of 1^st goal (I got the 3^rd minute.  I lost.)
= £8.50

…plus a tenner for the book, all about life as a reporter in the north-east.

The Tunes:
Hunky Dory (David Bowie)
Settle (Disclosure)
The Book of Traps and Lessons (Kate Tempest)
Favourite Worst Nightmare (Arctic Monkeys)

Spick and span in the corner.

Down the touchline.

The standing enclosure.

Toward the Main Stand.

The Main Stand.

Inside the clubhouse.

The Penrith Pensioners.

Those by the touchline.

The deciders of the goalden goal time.

Who doesn't love a Neolithic stone circle?