Croydon & The Surrounding Areas – First Hand Report March of 1979. I was living very happily in Gladstone Road bedsits backing onto the railway. Not a care in the world. A nice regular job on BR. 18 years old. Never known a disappointment. Bit of drinking, bit of womanising, bit of fishing on the Grand Union. In their own town, each person is a king and knows their way around and knows the people and knows where there is danger. I was used to my area and neighbourhood, but I had failed to appreciate it enough. What more can we ask from life, when Watford is so beautiful? Its elegant parks, its lively shops and high street, its bountiful waterways, the beautiful countryside, the diverse pubs, the fiery women. Where every horizon, in every direction, holds a thousand marvels! As I know now, Hertfordshire, and Watford in particular, is by far the best place in the UK in which to live. But I was young and innocent. I had been to a foolish all boys school. I had no sisters. I thought all women were soft-hearted Mary Poppins types, who were meticulously clean and tidy. I was a little innocent bon-bon which had never been sucked. It was, ironically, in the Crystal Palace pub in St Albans that I first saw her. Beautiful. Coca cola bottle shaped. Waist like a wasp, Long, very dark hair falling down her back almost to her curves. Wearing multi-coloured lycra with some transparent bits. And a little sinner's smiling glance on her too. And loose! Well, with another girl, but no men in sight. Well, you can imagine. I pulled my WFC beenie hat well-on and thought to myself, I'll go and introduce myself. It turned out she was from Croydon and that, Hornets and Hornettas, is how a few weeks later, I found myself selling all my possessions and with my wallet spongy for once, going to Croydon with her to look around at a place for us to live together. On the train down there, she talked it up and told me how wonderful life was down there. Life would be quieter and more peaceful. It was a modern town and was just as good as Watford - if I'd only give it a chance. I felt very uneasy about it, but as we walked out together from East Croydon station, she gestured grandly down the road towards all the skyscrapers and said “Look Clive, at how much progress there is here!” Then she showed me this tower, the other way, which she said was identical to the Capital Tower in Hollywood. Now there's the internet, I know that was also just another one of her Croydon lies. Well anyway, I allowed myself to be convinced and foolishly moved in with her in a bedsit in the real Crystal Palace (or Upper Norwood as it's really called). That is why I am most qualified to inform and advise about the real nature of Crystal Palace FC. I have lived inside the actual belly of the beast and have seen its entrails! Yes, East Croydon. Very nice. But it's only offices and deader than a doornail after office hours. Fairfield Hall? Fairlyshit. Whitgift Centre? Shitgift Centre. Walk along and you soon come to West Croydon, which is a bit livelier at least. It has its own little station. But it is dark and dingy and taxi offices and chicken shops. Nothing you'd really want to go there for. There did used to be a decent Youngs pub down there, The Tamworth Arms, but they knocked it down now I believe. A disgrace. Further along still and you come to the hospital and Thornton Heath. Like West Croydon, but fewer shops. Busy traffic shooting past all the time. I met a few of the locals at various times and even went in their houses. She introduced me to them and I met some in pubs. Some of them were alright, but others of them were real ****-eaters. There was a almost toothless, drunk, gay one who dressed very smartly in a bow tie all the time, but kept staggering drunk into the road and constantly got run over. He was probably the best of them. He lost his teeth from getting run over. I remember dancing Zorba the Greek with him while he had his leg in a cast. A very decent fellow. Others of them though, as I say, were rightdicks. As for the girl, well she turned out to be a monument. I was accustomed to decent Watford women. Noble and simple. Competent around the house and in the kitchen. Obedient. Not even “what for?”. Well this Croydon girl was not like that. After I'd bought her very fine clothes and the shoes that she wanted, I noticed that I didn't seem to hold the same place in her affections any more. Going out until the early hours, coming home and then off out again at dawn. No food bought or prepared. I got in from working one time and there was a Fray Bentos tinned pie, sitting with the metal lid peeled back and half eaten. She was very loose and low morals. Something I would say is very common for the women of the Croydon area. So after all the declarations of love, I woke up one morning to find myself thrown away on the street corner. Yes Hornets and Hornettas, I had wasted the flower of my youth, my time and my money. I travelled back home to Hertfordshire skint and skinny and malnourished. If I were to see her again today, I would have only one question for her. “How come Jesus Christ died from just three nails and yet you haven't died after being nailed by so many?” The Opposition Tiresome Palace. You keep thinking they're going down, but somehow they manage to just about hang on and delay the inevitable. This season, next season? Who knows. But they're certainly championship bound. The absolute epitome of the one man team, we only have to consider high-pitched whiner and carper, Wilfried “I could have been crippled!” Zaha. The rest of the Palace 11 are merely a supporting cast. Extras to poor tear-stained Wilf's tragedy-stricken leading man. Did you know he bragged about having slept with David Moyes' daughter? While he was at Man Utd? And then wonders why he got binned off back to where he came in short order. What an idiot! As with any tragic actor, Wilf likes to portray himself as wronged by the world. The victim. The hard done by. The slightest breath of a butterfly's wings on him and he's straight into the plunge of the dying swan, with a twist, a double-pike and a little roly-poly (silly little ponytail-a-flyin'), Then he gets up and we move to Act 2 – The Indignant. Arched back. Head forward. Palms outspread and facing upward. Eyebrows as high as they'll go and mouth wide open in that awful, grimacing, cavern thing he does. Every game it's the same thing. We'll no doubt see a ******** of it on Saturday. Oh, their manager is some ancient dinosaur relic who failed with England decades ago. Forget the name. Winterbottom? Prediction Easy 0-3 win. Pererya, Sema and Deulofeu.
While reading Clive's moving autobiography, the soundtrack running through my head was The Kinks' Lola.
I'm torn. A story full of sadness, loss and regret. But midst that misery is the picture of the world's greatest ever pie. I had one a fortnight ago and it was the highlight of my Xmas period. I like the sound of the place. I think I'm supporting the wrong team.
Aaah, The Crystal Palace pub in St Albans where they used to cover up the blood on the floor by throwing down a bit of sawdust. Fond memories.
Is it still there or am I thinking of 'The Horn of Plenty'? I think I will attend as 'Helga' from 'Allo,'Allo.
Groundhog day. https://m0.joe.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/22142957/*****Images-949576948.jpg https://img.maximummedia.ie/joe_co_uk/eyJkYXRhIjoie1widXJsXCI6XCJodHRwOlxcXC9cXFwvbWVkaWEtam9lY291ay5tYXhpbXVtbWVkaWEuaWUuczMuYW1hem9uYXdzLmNvbVxcXC93cC1jb250ZW50XFxcL3VwbG9hZHNcXFwvMjAxOFxcXC8wNFxcXC8yMjE0MjkzNFxcXC9HZXR0eUltYWdlcy05NDk1Nzg1MzAuanBnXCIsXCJ3aWR0aFwiOjc2NyxcImhlaWdodFwiOjQzMSxcImRlZmF1bHRcIjpcImh0dHBzOlxcXC9cXFwvd3d3LmpvZS5jby51a1xcXC9hc3NldHNcXFwvaW1hZ2VzXFxcL2pvZWNvdWtcXFwvbm8taW1hZ2UucG5nP3Y9NVwifSIsImhhc2giOiI2NDUwMTg0MTNjMDMyMTExYTYwODg5NDljNGVlMWEwNTk0NmQ5ZDdjIn0=/*****images-949578530.jpg
The Horn of Plenty became The Horn Reborn and is now, boringly, The Horn. The Crystal Palace is, happily, no more. Too many undesirables frequented it so it was dismantled and reassembled in Croydon. We Snorbanians would be glad to welcome you to our fine city in whatever fancy dress you please. You could even come as Moog or Clive.
This was an excellent day out! www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NhKMt8E83U Notable for several reasons: - The three brilliant goals, obviously - Delirious fan celebrations for all three. - Iain Dowie, ha ha ha! - The two goalies: Kiraly in those stupid tracky bottoms, and..... our very own Ben Foster!
I was in The Goat for the Woking match. Haven't been in there since STAGS days. Kiraly's trousers were hideous but he knew how to treat a Nazi impersonator!
There are several places I take my lad to that make him appreciate how lucky we are to have what we have at Watford. Palace on Saturday is one of those. An absolute sh*thole of a ground. Then there are places I take him where we love the ground/facilities/transport etc. Ironically Brighton is the next trip we'll be taking after Palace.
I suspect it has been written, rewritten, polished, burnished, scrunched into a ball & thrown wildly into the fire many times over the last 40 years. Personally, I'm hoping Clive shagged his way round the current Prem teams in the early 80s.
St Albans has changed. Used to be either Watford or Luton. Now mainly london premier league clubs Even The Goat now is a West Ham pub. Glad I moved on.
Kabasele and Gray fit now it seems. https://www.watfordfc.com/teams/first-team/team-news-crystal-palace-3 Presume Kabasele will come straight back into the starting line up and Gray on the bench.
Palace fans are really hard, I’m scared about going on Saturday, infact a little bit of poo has just Plopped from my bottom thinking about it
It's so tiresome to have to go South of the river and hear the tedious stripey Nigel's, regurgitating all the "facts" that they have heard from the days of gollom onwards. How boring to hear about Capoues career ending tackle on the serial cheat How irritating to hear the Dave Clark Five (who hail from Tottenham incidentally) feeling glad all over How embarrassing to see their black shirted ultras not really making any noise How ashamed they should be to charge thirty quid to get into that shed of a stand with a low roof and pillars in the way Considering all of the above, I might well stay at Borough Market all day
https://img.maximummedia.ie/joe_co_uk/eyJkYXRhIjoie1widXJsXCI6XCJodHRwOlxcXC9cXFwvbWVkaWEtam9lY291ay5tYXhpbXVtbWVkaWEuaWUuczMuYW1hem9uYXdzLmNvbVxcXC93cC1jb250ZW50XFxcL3VwbG9hZHNcXFwvMjAxOFxcXC8wNFxcXC8yMjE0MjkzNFxcXC9HZXR0eUltYWdlcy05NDk1Nzg1MzAuanBnXCIsXCJ3aWR0aFwiOjc2NyxcImhlaWdodFwiOjQzMSxcImRlZmF1bHRcIjpcImh0dHBzOlxcXC9cXFwvd3d3LmpvZS5jby51a1xcXC9hc3NldHNcXFwvaW1hZ2VzXFxcL2pvZWNvdWtcXFwvbm8taW1hZ2UucG5nP3Y9NVwifSIsImhhc2giOiI2NDUwMTg0MTNjMDMyMTExYTYwODg5NDljNGVlMWEwNTk0NmQ5ZDdjIn0=/*****images-949578530.jpg A face I would never get tired of slapping
Is it? There was no evidence of it when I was there. Still seemed like a "finger in the ear sing a song about whale music" and real ale pub to me. That being said, my knowledge of pubs is smaller than a hermit's address book! Think I'll take a comb and wellington boots,just in case!
The Crystal Palace was bulldozed many moons ago. It was the one to skip on a St Albans pub crawl mainly because it was a bikers pub.
The landlord is a west ham fan. A mate went there to watch the West Ham Watford game. He was the only Watford fan in there, apparently they show the West Ham games there and get quite a few local Irons fans.
I wasn't wearing any colours on the train to the play off final and was innocently sat eating a jacket potato when a bunch of pissed up members of the palace version of the 1881 got in the same carriage. Even though they didnt know Im Watford they started taunting my potato and singing 'its just a cheap jacket potato' (to the tune of there's only one watford fc). I hope the whole Watford squad, management, owners and fanbase understand how acute my need for vengeance is and act accordingly.
It's a dreary old stadium but it is one where you can create a good atmosphere. I feel as though I'm owed 3 points there after the last 5 minute debacle last season when we conceded 2 goals and lost the game, it battered down with rain and I found out that I had a hole in my shoe! 3 points please and a red card for diving for poor old Wilf please
https://www.theguardian.com/footbal...-crystal-palace-protection-diving-accusations Absurd Harry hit-piece in the Guardian. Stoking the fire of this faux rivalry.
Well that piece puts paid to my sympathy for the Guardian’s ‘please donate £1 to our poor rag gov’nor we’re going out of business’ plea that accompanies every article. F”ck em, and who is the journalist with the ‘look at my big faux moustache’ anyway? And I’ll put money on precious Wilf diving on Saturday, much as I admire his skills as a footballer.
Crystal Palace. The once strong building destroyed by fire and poor decisions on building materials back in the day. Bit like the team. Burn up any love for any game or season for their dwindling fan base on a cold and dreary Tuesday evening in the Championship then to see Kevin (who do you play for now) Philips send them into the elite at our expens at Wembley. Egg and chips on a chilly Saturday afternoon at a ground they once shared with Wimbledon FC and Ironically played home and away to them back in the Premiership days of old. Enough about them. Well since we had a nice break to get over the worst and best of our season bundled inside 45 minutes at the home of the Muff Divers (pun intended?) we are refreshed and ready to go again. Wilfred scoring in the 90th from a the most pre planned and choreographed high diving attempt in our box after Gray comes on as a substitute for Success, clean through on goal and sends the ball over the goal, the stadium wall and ontothe garage shed of Mr. Debby who lives around the back. We play extremely well. We will win this game for once. Deeney will score so will Success. Javi will sing all the way home. I will ignore all I have posted above this final paragraph. We win 2-0.
What a stinking pile of crap. Zaha never goes down, never. But when he does, everyone else does too so it's ok.