I'm no mug. I clicked on the Southern Trains website a couple of months ago at just the right time.
The fare was 50p, ten bob for a trip down to Brighton, always a good drinking town, if not to actually try and see a game of football.
The trouble was a few hundred other people were hitting the site at the same time, the best service I could get was 8.21, in at 9.36. That left a lot of time to fill before the kick-off.
In for a penny and all that. The weather forecast was good, the Blues were playing some good stuff with a couple of debutants to catch, the recommended pub crawl was a well worn route.
September 19, I laugh in your face, the UK was having another Indian summer, well the southern bit, so on went the shorts and a short sleeved shirt, so what if there was 5 and a half hours to kill, I was gonna have myself a real good time.
But not that good, had to remember, big family do in the evening, watching the step kids in a concert, no falling asleep this week!
The early part of the journey found me a touch nervous, thick cloud and well, cold! Had I made a cock-up on the clothes front?
Three Bridges around nine cheered me up though, a couple of young kids, drunk or high, or possibly both, laughing and dancing up and down the platform like a pair of demented pixies.
Passing Preston Park, four minutes outside Brighton mainline station and the destination nearer game time. the sun had broken through, it was gonna be a hot one after all. The shorts were looking good!
Walking down the hill there was the local Weatherspoons, already packed with the odd drinker but it was a £2.49 traditional breakfast for me, with coffee, honestly, though that didn't stop the big bloke next to me washing his down with a pint of Tuborg.
Plenty of Horny Dawnies Hens decided to take in the sea air
Then on to the seafront with the sun now full on, and the hen parties were out in force. A guy turns to his mates: "Over here, there's a bigger group."
Don't believe everything that's sung about Brighton blokes.
One group stood out, in small pockets all over town, in bright pink t-shirts and cowboy hats, the t-shirts proudly proclaiming they were part of Hornie Dawnies Hens, a photo in the middle of who I presumed was Horny Dawnie herself, not that I could stare for long without fear of arrest.
The lads from earlier are going to have a good Saturday night!
A Shrimper didn't finish his pint, a sad day
Approaching noon, time for a beer and the Evening Star.
Sitting outside in the glorious sunshine, two very quick pints of 4.7%
American Pale Ale from the local Dark Star brewery at £2.80. Crisp, perfect colour, lovely, but not to everybody's taste.
Three real ale Shrimpers that I recognised from earlier trips, one came out with the classic 'we're going through the menu' at the Head of Steam in Huddersfield station, left their glass 20% full before they all walked off. I was shocked, what a waste, if there was a student about they would have finished it off!
Forced me into buying a pint before cashback, the bastards!
Still two hours to kick-off, so it's the ten minute walk to Basketmakers Arms at the wrong end of Gloucester Road.
One of the best Fullers pubs outside London it certainly charged London prices, £3.30 for a pint of ESB, but it was an excellent drop of beer, and behind the bar was an excellent choice of whiskies.
The malt of the month was an old friend from before, and after, the game at Swindon, a 10 year single malt from the Isle of Jura, lovely. They must be shipping over a job lot of bottles. Only £1.45 a shot, I'll take it with a half.
Far too good, want another round but out of dosh, time for the flexible friend;
"Same again, and £20 cashback ".
"Sorry, five pound minimum spend".
"Better make it a pint then".
"Close enough!"
Starting to feel as I did after Swindon, oh no, remember family concert, no more!
Get to station for a 14.25 football special to Preston Park, at under five minutes it must be the shortest exclusive supporter service in the UK, then a fifteen minute walk and in the ground at a strange, for me, 14.45, what to do?
So that's what the players do during a warm-up.
The game itself is far better described here:
www.southendunited-mad.co.uk/news/loadnews.asp?cid=TMNW&id=464076
And you can even catch the goals here:
To be honest, and it wasn't the shots of malt, it's pretty difficult to describe anything at the Whitdean, especially when your team is attacking the far end which we were in the first half.
However, the debut boys did well.
Roy O'Donovan took his goal well, showed good awareness and movement off the ball, linking well with his team mates who'd he'd only met 48 hours before.
For George Friend it had been even less, the Wolves man signing Friday!
Nothing spectacular after replacing Johnny, just what we wanted really after a dodgy defensive display in the first 45. Need to see him in a full game, probably against Oldham.
The rest were 6 and 7's with M'Voto making a rare error for the second Brighton equaliser, that bloody Forster, not bad for 36, but then we hear he's carrying an injury. The problem with such a small squad.
Christophe and Grant though linked well after last week's hiccups against Leeds. The Frenchman just shading it as man-of-the-match for me but both played well.
What we did see clearly was the Laurent winner. If Francis could discover consistency we'd have a million pound player on our hands!
A great pass by Moose, Laurent was on it like a shot where he turned the seagull defender Elphick inside out.
Poor Elphick has had a lot of criticism, mainly from his own manager, you'd never hear Tilly comment on his players like that, which helps to explain why we're eighth from top and not bottom.
To be honest when Francis turns it on like that there's not many League One defenders that can live with him and his shot from such a tight angle was brilliant.
A word on the atmosphere created by the travelling Shrimpers. Considering the dump that is the Whitdean Stadium, everyone was magnificent, getting behind the team throughout the game, and engaging in a lot of friendly banter with the home fans. Great stuff.
Final whistle, quickly back to the station and London, where I didn't fall asleep during the concert, just.