To Broad Lane! …on Saturday afternoon. It’s been a while. Wivenhoe Town were at home to Long Melford. Nope, me neither.

What was more certain was me missing KO. You don’t say. A work shift finishing at 3pm meant that I wasn’t at the ground until 3:15pm. The Dragons were already one up. Blimey.

I had barely fiddled around with my camera lens before a second was added. Blink and you’ll miss it, etc. I certainly did. These goals are rare. Make the most of them whilst you can.

My usual photowalk around the ground followed. I was delayed further with some very friendly conversations. Non-league football is not about ruining your entire weekend; I’ll leave that to Forest. Friendships are more important here.

I reached the home dug out. Gosh - there’s Mo, the club all-rounder, coaching. I must have missed that announcement. It was good to see him back on the sideline. At 2-0 up, he was clearly doing a half decent job.

HT came. I caught up with R:

“Did you catch the two pens on camera?”

…he asked.

Hang on pens? TWO pens? I was late for the first goal. The second goal wasn’t a penalty was it? Oh. Crap Match Report ahoy!

Wivenhoe added a third goal soon after the break. It was a great team effort on the breakaway, with some calm finishing around the ‘keeper. 3-0, game done. It’s a long way back to Long Melford. I think.

Long Melford pulled back a consolation. I’ll let them have that. The young team had battled well, in what was starting to become something of a dirty game for both teams.

Wivenhoe looked like they could hang on, but an absolute worldie from down the wing led to a final nervy ten minutes. The equaliser came late, late in the game.

And so 3-0 up, to 3-3 at FT.

Non-league football remains bloody brilliant.

Another day, another meh Weird Wiv walk. That’s unfair. The meh was in the weather, and not the sights around CO7. It was one of those Tupperware days where you appear to be living under a giant grey plastic roof. The solar light on my shed failed to flicker into action this morning. I’m still pounding the pavements, whilst semi-crocked. My calf is probably about ready for a return to running. But I’m rather enjoying these power walks right now.

Another day, another Quayside walk. Actually, it was a lot more than that - almost 5km in total. Rain is forecast around these parts over the next few weeks. You need to take your chances whilst you can. That was a bloody big high tide down at front. I had to take the slight detour through some back passages to find a dry route. Keep walking.

I’m still crocked, I still can’t run. My calf came close to PINGING once again at the weekend. I had taken a month off running. I found that pretty tough. I thought all was fine to start pounding the mean streets of CO7 once again at the weekend.

WRONG!

PING!

Ouch, that bloody hurt.

I’m so I’m back on my own personal rehab, aka walking each day whilst I can. I get restless with wfh, and so need to head out.

The wanderings around Weird Wiv on Monday were nothing spectacular. Always different, always the same, etc.

I headed up towards The Cross, back down The Avenue and High Street, and then along The Quay. I’ve started to notice other daily walkers sharing the same time frame as me. Maybe they’re all crocked as well?

I arrived fashionably late at Broad Lane. No shit. Same as it ever was. I heard a lame cheer as I was locking my bicycle up. The Wiv cheer is often lame, but not as lame as this. Ah, so Needham Market Reserves must have scored. Arse. Whatever.

It was a murky, dull January afternoon across the bloody Estuary Wilds. I struggled a little with the light and photography. It’s best to focus on some of the characters, rather than the action shots. I was helped by a trip of Dad’s Army recruits as the officials. To be fair, the three Men in Black had a decent afternoon.

Needham Market Reserves were very young, and very skilful. They played a beautiful passing game, compared to the more hit it and hope effort from the Dragons. Fitness was also always going to come into this game. I feared for Wivenhoe with each passing minute.

The Dragons had their chances, but they weren’t hitting the target. I felt sorry for the fella heading back and forth, retrieving lost footballs from the car park.

The atmosphere picked up a little at the start of the second half. It was helped by standing next to a couple who were rolling up the most delightful tobacco. It wasn’t THAT type of roll up, but it did add a sweet smell along the empty terraces.

Having missed the first goal from Needham, I might as well miss the second. I was too busy tapping in the above para into my phone. It’s not called a Crap Match Report for nothing, Comrades.

We had to do a runner with the score at 2-0, and five minutes left in the game. Work shifts back at base, and the Forest game on the telly were both calling.

A brief look on X, and BLOODY HELL - the final score was Wivenhoe 1, Needham 3. And so I missed all four goals. Still, a decent game. I’m becoming rather fond of Wivenhoe Town these days.

The main aim for the WivGigs Thursday Social row was to avoid the rain. We could all see it coming on our various smart prediction apps; we could all see it and smell it in the Estuary Wilds air as we gathered down at the Sailing Club.

Actually, we couldn’t see it. There was a thick layer of mist hanging over the Colne, late afternoon. If this was a weekend row with the Sailing Club Cadets doing their dinghy thing, then navigation would have been a problem. But for a Thursday afternoon, we had the whole bloody estuary to ourselves.

I was put on stroke. I felt fine, but wasn’t really up for setting the pace. The crew was a mixture of experienced old sea dogs, and some new hands. I found it tricky finding a suitable compromise.

We weren’t helped by rowing through a channel full of shit. Suddenly the water turned brown. Bits and bobs of brown texture were rubbing against the oars. This was no time to start splashing around with some power strokes. Put a peg on your nose instead.

Whatever. We pressed on. Buoy 18 was reached. We had a little extra time and tide, and so decided to push on and turn at Buoy 16. The visibility weakened, yet still there was no rain. We powered back to the Sailing Club along a very high tide. Audacity was wrapped up and put to bed.

Yep - we beat the rain.

Another day, another walk. Live to walk, walk to live, etc. Of course I’d rather run, but I’m still partially crocked with my dodgy calf.

It’s been over three weeks now since it first pinged. I was foolish enough to attempt a pickleball game one week after the initial injury.

OUCH. That bloody hurt. I was back to square one.

I’ve slowly, slowly been building up with the walking each day. The 5km-ish route stays pretty much the same. I’ve picked up the pace to look like a right twat as I power walk around the town.

It’s done the job. I feel ready to return to running. But I’m increasingly cautious in all areas of my life as I age. The weekend has been pencilled in for a return to pounding the mean streets of CO7 once again.

The walk today was quite lovely. The harsh coldness of the past few days has disappeared. The snow and ice has gone. We’re waiting for the next weather phase with rain and wind incoming.

But for today, a brisk walk to the top of the town, and then back down along the Quay was what I needed.

I walked it all the way to the other end of the Trail and onwards towards the Hythe on Monday. I was in desperate need for a swim and a stretch. The ice and snow was still heavy along the Muddy Banks. I wouldn’t have fancied riding along there.

And so I crunched along at a pace, wearing my walking boots. You get to see a whole different perspective walking the Trail, rather than riding it. No shit.

I approached Windy Corner opposite Rowhedge. Slowly, slowly on the horizon I could see a bloody great big barge being tugged along the river. This is quite a rarity. It reminded me of my early 90’s student days up in the Towers, watching Russian shipping boats heading up and down the Colne.

Those days are long gone, with a silted up river, no shipping industry to speak of around these parts, and, erm, Russian ships not exactly being welcome right now. At the time I was probably reading a first year politics textbook about how the end of the Cold War would lead to a brave, safe new world.

But anyway - the barge thingy being towed up the Muddy Banks on Monday. It looked a little perilous. The tugging thing pulling it along looked like a contestant for World’s Strongest Man that had arrived a little underprepared. It was swaying from side to side, still trying to keep the big old bastard of a barge moving.

I pressed on with the walking. I reached the Hythe, and made my way along King Edward Quay. Ahh - so that explains it. The community of house boats now has a few gaps. The barge was being moved from the Hythe to Gawd knows where. Brightlingsea? There’s certainly no room for it in Weird Wiv.

The City Council had a particularly spiteful policy just before Christmas of hiking the morning fees for the close knit community of house boats down by the Hythe. It looks like the gathering has now been split up, with gaps appearing along the quayside.

A decent walk. I should take in these ramblings and observations more often.

High water down at the Hythe as I cycled through on Friday morning. Which can only mean one thing: Haven Road is flooded, innit. I don’t quite understand the physical geography of why Haven Road cops it, whilst King Eddie Quay somehow gets away with no extra water. I don’t think the stalled Hythe Taskforce does either. I’m just grateful for having a safe passage and the opportunity for a few cheeky sunshine snaps.

An icy ride along the Trail for Saturday morning. It’s the first time that I’ve braved the bloody Estuary Wilds mud for a few weeks. My reasoning this morning was that it would all be frozen over, making for a smooth passage.

Instead I found the frost starting to thaw, but still leading to some delicate handling. This wasn’t the occasion to time trial it along the Trail, even if it was deserted shortly after 8am. The only other company I had was a gathering of lapwings flapping around in the mud.

It was a good job there was no other traffic along the Trail. My bicycle bell had frozen. Some of my body parts felt the same. It will be spring soon, right? Please tell me it will be spring soon.

Wishing the days away.