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First full day of solo parenting and I decided to take a huge risk, have an adventure and do something the kids would probably not like. I took them to see York City playing Wealdstone in Ruislip. Chances of fun were not improved by it pissing with rain all day, but as all York City fans have to, I live in hope. Phoebe loves playing football so maybe she'd like to see a (n lmost) proper match in real life. Ernie doesn't really have the attention span for 90 minutes of anything, but I had iPads in my bag and at the very worst it would be a good experiment to see how I coped with the kids alone on public transport.
I have three York City tops so we were all wearing one. It was pretty cute.
I took them for Mcdonalds first, but then rushed them out to try and catch the train. My first mistake was to get the slow train (when a late fast train was about to leave) and my second mistake was to assume there would be toilets on the slow train. Ernie had just necked a fruit shoot and I thought I might have to get him to pee back into the bottle (which luckily he still had), but he held on like a trooper. I probably needed a wee more than him.
As we passed the Emirates stadium I told Phoebe to have a good look at it, so she could compare and contrast with the ground we were going to end up in.
We got to the loo at St Pancras, which mercifully was free and Phoebe waited outside the cubicle amongst all the pissing gents as Ernie did a poo (and I did a big happy wee).
We negotiated the tube and I managed to not even lose one of them and the Metropolitan line was pretty quiet. We were almost having fun, playing Mallet's mallet (without a mallet). It was a bit of a walk to the ground and the rain was coming down, but we stayed cheerful. Wealdstone's ground is not as good as Arsenal's it turns out. Phoebe wanted to sit near the front so she could catch the ball if it came into the crowd and luckily the second row was just about under the corrugated iron roof so we were more or less dry. but sightlines were bad as we were behind the barriers and other fans had tied banners to them. We should have gone higher up in hindsight.
Ernie loved an early bit of action where the ball went really high and we all enjoyed a York City shot that left the ground and I was impressed with the team who had the best chances and some good passing and all the players looked young and fit. The kids were a little bit bored and squabbly, but they sat on my knees and Phoebe was engaged by some of it. It got warm enough to take off our coats. Maybe we'd get through a whole match.
Ernie was a bit scared by the noise and there were some young lads parading up and down, a bit beered up, but friendly enough. The kids had moved to the front row, sitting on the top of the seats so they could see. One of the young drunk men sat down next to them. He didn't seem to be showing much interest in the match, and looked like he was regretting getting pissed at 3.30pm. He then leant forward and was a bit sick on the floor. The sick splattered close to Phoebe. He was maybe 10 metres from the toilet, but he didn't take this bit of sick as a cue to get to a cubicle. He just sat with his head in his hands and then threw up some more. A proper amount this time. Phoebe screamed in justified disgust and the kids clambered back over the seat to be close to me. The man kept on being sick. The idea of moving somewhere away from the other spectators not even occurring to him.
All the other York fans put up with it and didn't say a word. A man being sick in the stands is obviously a regular occurrence and you just have to put up with the smell and the splatter. It's part of the fun. And if you're a York fan one of the best things that you can hope to see. Phoebe in particular was scarred by the experience though and not unreasonably wanted to move further away from the sick and the still spewing man.
So we moved further along and sat in the front row, Phoebe almost shaking now and very keen to leave.
To add to the unpleasantness it now started to rain quite heavily and as we were at the very front now we were getting hit, so I scrambled to get us all back in our coats. As I was doing this York scored. I wouldn't really have been able to see if I hadn't been busy as I was behind the barriers now and York were at the other end of the pitch. But I completely missed the goal.
Still York were 1-0 up and we'd only seen one person being sick so i was taking that as a good first half. Ernie was saying he liked the football now, but Phoebe hated it and said I'd only brought them because this was something I wanted to do (which was only 75% true) and that she hadn't been born near York so she didn't want to support the same team as me. I had said she'd wanted to come when I told her, but she said she thought we'd be in a proper big oval ground (her words) and not sitting in the rain next to some puke.
I think she might still have wanted to go home without the puke, but the puke sealed the deal. It will be the abiding memory for us all I feel and the association might very well mean that they never want to come to a match again. Which would be a shame. I hope that puking man has a good hard look at himself. Sadly I think he was too drunk to even remember he did this.
So we left at half time, which turned out to be a good call as York collapsed in the second half, had a man sent off and lost 2-1.
Phoebe asked me why people drink alcohol, which is a good question. I tried to give an explanation, but really I was struggling to work out why too. When I was her age it seemed pretty stupid, then I got older and it suddenly felt like a good thing to do for the next thirty-five years. But now once again, it seems ridiculous.
I told her it makes you feel happy for a little bit (before making you feel sick and miserable for a day or so) and that if you're shy it can make you think that you're confident and funny. I did add that now I wasn't drinking I could confirm that it doesn't make you funny though. Just repetitive and really not funny, but still so convinced you're funny that you don't realise that you've already hammered the "joke" into the ground.
We went back across London and got the train back to our car. We arrived in Welwyn Garden City at 6pm so I was glad we hadn't stayed for the long and terrible second half which would have added at least another hour to our day. Instead we went for a pizza. I got to feel like a weekend dad and imagine what it would be like to be divorced.
A man being repeatedly sick next to you in the rain is a pretty good metaphor for that.
It still felt like a successful day. We'd been on an adventure. A horrible and disappointing one. But we'd done it together. And none of us even got sick on us.
And there's no danger of either kid supporting York City so I have saved them from a lifetime of hope followed by disappointment and vomit.
