After the original game back in December 2010 was postponed for the snow, I lost out on my train fare as apparently advance tickets are only refundable if the train is delayed, so £40 down the drain before I even started. Following the daytime trek by car to Morecambe on mostly motorways, there was no way I was doing a trip to Lincoln on a weeknight, so opted for a train and overnight stay. As this was a leisure trip on my own, I chose to go first class, which was around £80 for the return trip. Considering a day-time trip to Manchester costs around that, I thought this was a worthwhile treat.
Unfortunately this game was on the first of the month, which is one of my busiest work days. I managed to escape the office at 11:45, caught the 12:30 Guildford-Waterloo, and after a cross-London transfer I left King's Cross for the East Coast Line up to Newark North Gate. The East Coast trains are possibly the old InterCity 125s, or at least they look that dated. Still, my first class table seat was spacious and I was offered plentiful tea and coffee or water. The other passengers hoping for the cooked meals were disappointed to find that was only available on different trains, and had to get by on the standard class toasted sandwiches. From Newark, there was a chugger one carriage train to Lincoln which took around 40 minutes.
The train circled into the city around the University campus, before finally arriving in the centre. I had never been to Lincoln before, but had hoped to spot the cathedral as the renowned landmark from miles away. The local buildings shielded it from view, and I headed up into the Old Town towards my hotel, still with no views. The walk got steeper and steeper. I found myself on the cunningly named "steep hill", and after twenty minutes of huff and puff finally got to the top by the castle and cathedral. I spotted a Yellow couple and said hello, and they had been to the top of the castle but advised against climbing. With sweat rings on my shirt, I decided to check in to the hotel and have a cool down. My hotel was literally built into the ancient walls of the city, and I went for a short walk around the top end of the city to take some pictures of the cathedral and castle.
What perhaps shocked me most was the Big Issue sellers and beggars based up by the Cathedral, who were quite clearly addicts from their faces and bloodshot eyes. For the 'posh' end of town I was surprised, but apparently the people who visit cathedrals are most likely to give to 'good causes'.
I decided to dine at the hotel Grille, which was advertised as recommended to pre-book. Just guessing, but the speed with which they dished out my 'hot smoked salmon steak' starter from the specials board, and the pork belly main course made me suspect the food was pre-cooked, deep frozen and finished off in the kitchen.
Later I wandered downhill to the town centre, finally spotting Womble through the Wetherspoons window, and joined his group for a pint. Down town looked a lot more like the Cowley Road, with a Chinese takeaway called 'Legal Food', which made me wonder quite what the alternative was . We then went on to the ground, and I took my usual detour to the club shop for a club badge.
We were placed to the top of one corner of a stand along the pitch, perhaps similar to what away fans experience at the Kasstad. To our left were some vocal home fans up against the segregation netting. In the equivalent of our East Stand were a hardcore of young fans who stood all game, banged their drum, and jumped around too. To our right was a fairly unused Executive Stand, although Oxford fans had taken one box. Opposite was the main one tiered stand.
So, onto the game. This was a bizarre match where Lincoln went one-up, and then we equalised after their goalie somehow stopped a shot and whilst prone on the ground let the ball slither from his grasp for us to equalise. The stewards kept their beady eyes on us throughout which was quite disconcerting. In the second half we started strongly, but then it all went wrong with two comical own goals, leaving Lincoln the deserved 3-1 winners.
I took the lazy option of a taxi back to the top of town, had a couple of glasses of wine in the hotel bar before retiring to bed. In the morning I opted for the poached eggs and hollandaise sauce. Good, but not as good as at Lake Louise.
The morning walk to the station was interrupted by a search for a book shop, which the Yellows I had seen the afternoon before promised me had a Lincoln-Oxford programme from the '70s. I found the shop, was taking details to let my programme collectors know as the shop wasn't due to open until 11, when the owner started opening up. He let me in early, charged me 99p for the programme, and I headed on back to the town centre and station. At only quarter past nine the local addicts were congregating on a bench over the canal / river for their morning lagers.
9:30 saw a two carriage train head to Newark Castle, which was around 25 minutes walk to North Gate. Newark is a quite well preserved town with obviously a castle, but also converted warehouses and redbrick building. I finally got home around 1pm, and then back to work to catch up.
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