I started writing this a while back and then got distracted by workload and at times total dismay at some of the stories, tittle tattle and going-ons that had me thanking my lucky stars that I am no longer Chairman. There is strength in unity...at the moment we are not strong enough.
There is a huge rant building up inside of me, but for now we'll stick with going live on the bit I started to write after the FA Cup defeat, the rest can wait...
For the record - had an excellent weekend in Bideford, even if it did go all horribly wrong on the pitch. Just over half-a-dozen pre-match pints helped to ease the pain, but adds to the anger when you travel over 220 miles to see one of your own players react in the way that Rob Bartley did to earn his red card. It was right in front of where I stood. It was stupidity of the highest order, an embarrassment for the traveling Chesham fans and well, just so bleeding annoying... it probably cost us the game.
You cannot fault the hospitality of Bideford though, we had a good chat with them in the bar afterwards before sloping back to the pub we had been to pre-match, and then onto a Chinese at which point my lack of memory beat me.
The journey home was a bit of a total nightmare. Attempting to get home in good time and surprise Mrs Calder to be back in time to take my youngest to rugby training Sunday morning, Dad and I awoke early in our hotel room (neither of us very clear about how we got back there!), feeling a little worse for wear we skipped breakfast for an early start, heading down to reception at 7.00am. Complete darkness. Not a soul. I scribbled a note explaining that we had to leave early and I'll call up to make payment. Then we get to the car and I see Dad looking inquisitively at the money in his pocket. It had been a fairly heavy session the previous day, expectation would be that you look disappointingly at the few coins you have left out of what you started with, but Dad was the opposite, he had about £140 in his pocket.
So we set off on the road. A little hungover. I was starting to regret missing breakfast. Dad was still trying to work out who could have given him all the money - "Do you remember Giles giving me any match or player sponsorship money?"... "Perhaps Simon gave me some...". Then I became distracted by an engine light on the car dashboard. Never a good sign...The car started to lose power..."Perhaps Brian gave me some coach money"... My body wanted breakfast....The car ground to a halt. Five miles outside of Bideford.
In the end I had the RAC out and was eventually back on the road nearly three hours after I first set off. We never got to stop for breakfast at all. In fact I nearly missed lunch. I certainly missed rugby, and the temperature in the house was a few degrees chillier than it was outside when I eventually got in through the door.
We bounced back on the Tuesday with a 3-0 home win v Bashley and the following weekend I was heading back down the M4, this time on my way to the Celtic Manor in Newport, South Wales...Yes, it was my one weekend a year when I have to work; boy did that work out well.
Whilst I was enjoying the luxury of the hotel resort (plenty of working too, but a fair amount of socialising as well) from 3pm onwards I was constantly watching Twitter for updates from the FA Cup game against Northwood. There weren't many, until I saw the Northwood penalty, followed by "scored". Yet again, we had gone out of the FA Cup to lower league opposition.
Since then there have been more disappointments on the field with defeat at home to Gosport Borough and away at Arlesey...Behind the scenes it has been completely, well, more of that later...
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