The Chips at Twerton Park
By Turlough
- 2031 reads
When Raleigh’s ship came into port the gentry gathered round
To see the cargo in its hold of veggies small and brown.
But little did the people know as Walter disembarked
That what he’d found would one day make the chips at Twerton Park.
Once on a trip to Liverpool I had a sausage roll.
At Middlesbrough I bought a pie from the hut behind the goal.
And Leicester’s chips, although not bad, just lacked that vital spark
No football club has food to match the chips at Twerton Park.
I’ve eaten curry in Madras, pastrami in New York
And from our local takeaway some sweet and sour pork.
By a sandy beach in the Cyclades I’ve even sampled shark,
But nothing ever tastes as good as the chips at Twerton Park.
My dear old Mum would greet us home, her peeler in her hand.
So proud she was to serve us up fresh from her old chip pan.
The fat red hot and a pinch of salt, her years old trade mark!
Although she tried, they weren’t the same as the chips at Twerton Park.
Whenever I can, I take my kids down to see Bath City.
Sometimes the football’s very good and sometimes a bit poor.
But as every Saturday comes around the children do remark.
‘Come on Dad, we want some chips. Let’s go to Twerton Park!’
A note of explanation:
This is little something that I rescued from my archives and digitally remastered a bit. A poem I wrote about twenty-five years ago when I used to go with my three lovely kids to watch Bath City playing in the sixth tier of English football. The standard of play on the pitch wasn’t all that special but standing in the fresh air for a couple of hours, chatting with the friendly supporters of all ages (some of who had been attending matches at the magnificent / dilapidated Twerton Park stadium since the Middle Ages) and even exchanging views with the players themselves became part of our weekly routine. But the cherry on the Saturday afternoon cake was a plate of hot, crispy chips. In terms of non-league football cholesterol-generating greasy snack bar food, they were top of the league.
Image:
Created by me. My kids at Twerton Park in 1997, looking excited in anticipation of their half-time plate of chips.
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Comments
Another lovely memory,
Another lovely memory, Turlough, and what a delightful picture!
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You can't beat em! and once
You can't beat em! and once you find that special place that serves up good old fish and chips that are perfect in every way, there's no turning back.
We had a fish and chip shop just down the road from where we lived. Every Saturday night we'd look forward to our feast...but it was a sad day when they closed, and no other fish and chips ever tasted the same again, even to this day.
Great poem that prompted my own memores.
By the way, I just love the photo...happy days.
Jenny.
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Chips at Twerton Park. Ah..
Chips at Twerton Park. Ah...you can't beat food at the footie. I always have a balti pie at Villa Park. Memories are made of this. Paul :)
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A lovely rhythmic ode to the
A lovely rhythmic ode to the traditional chipbag! Whichever is your favourite source! My son was in a youth group ages ago where a regular event was testing the chippie bags that had been collected around town anonymously to decide the best in the town. A certain one usually won I think. Rhiannon
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I liked this very much, all
I liked this very much, all the different things weaving through - the arrival of potatoes to their apotheosis at Twerton Park, your Mum with her potato peeler and you taking your children to sample the culinary highlight of all your travels. Your photo is wonderful, so full character and happiness
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Sir Walter saved my childhood
Sir Walter saved my childhood. If it wasn't a potato, it wasn't dinner.
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Hi Turlough, what a
Hi Turlough, what a delightful anecdote. It reminded me of my time in Italy where the general belief of most married men was that meals provided by their wives were never as good as those of their mothers.
Your poem prompted me to jot down this recollection in a little dirty that I'll post today.
Btw, I never sampled shark but I had swordfish.
Best, Luigi.
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When I read this before, I
When I read this before, I wondered why you had "a bit poor" instead of a rhyme for city, have only just realised :0)
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