So, tonight was my 500th game and, having lived in God's County for 19 years now, it does mean a lot to me.
It was fun, because it was just normal. I drank with guys I've known for 25 years. We talked about friends who couldn't make it down tonight but were equally important to our shared journey. I saw and said hello to people tonight that I've never known the names of, but just know them because they're K's. I conversed and joked with new friends on the terrace who I feel like I've known forever. I sang songs with the sons of people who used to teach me songs on the terraces. I talked about my football trips with folk who used to define what a football trip was. I chatted like equal acquaintances with two directors who helped me out tonight. Kim Harris was manager. K's legends were on the terraces. The burgers were lovely. Ex-K's fans / strong sympathisers were in abundance - I hope they'll all be back one day. Programmes ran out as per tradition. The Guinness was awful. I got jealous of old and new mates talking about away games I know I'm not going to make. The cider was palatable. Tolfs. I laughed at the new beermats. I wished more of my old pals were around, knowing full well my own service has been lacking. We lost.
500, not out.
This Is Kingstonian.
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