Away Day - Clitheroe 12.08.25

After Saturday's first game of the season, fans were in an excitable mood looking forward to our first away of the season: Clitheroe on a Tuesday night. There was talk of a mini bus. Cappy, clamouring for numbers, had provisionally put mine and Sleepys name down. The beer continued to flow.

Sunday afternoon, and any murmurings of a supporters mini bus had been dispersed; perhaps the beer was talking? Perhaps a bit of despondency having lost our first game narrowly? Perhaps the fact it was a Tuesday night just put people off. Well not myself and Sleepy. We arranged to get the Train to Clitheroe, with a stop off at the legendary Bowland Brewery a must. Having already asked the wonderful Muggsy, a lift home after the game was secured. We were good to go.

Kick-off was at 19:45. We wanted to give ourselves time to have a pint or two at the aforementioned pub, and with it taking just over an hour on the train, we decided that 12:15 was a perfectly reasonable time to meet. That only gave us 7 and a half hours until KO.

Once Sleepy ditched his car in Urmston and I'd scranned a sausage butty from County Grills (other sausage butty providers are out there), we agreed that we had enough time for a quick pint at Bevano Lounge. Sat outside, the sun popped its head out and brightened our faces. 5 minutes until the train and with still half a pint left, I panicked, "Is that the train pulling in?" I chirped, grabbing my pint downing what was left. Confused at the seemingly early arrival of the 12:58 train, Sleepy also grabbed his pint ready to down it and jog across the road to the platform.

FFS... it was then I realised the sound of the train pulling in was in fact the sound of an electric sander being used as some works were being done on a building by the station. What a wally.

Once the train did arrive, on-time, and dropped us off at Oxford Road, we decided to go for one in The Refuge, just across from the station. Sleepy scanned me through the barriers - for some reason, he was trusted with buying the tickets, and a few minutes later he managed to scan himself through.

We didn't manage the 100 yard stroll to The Refuge. Instead, we were confronted at the bottom of the hill of Oxford Road by a shed that was once a bicycle storage container, but now, a micro pub - a much better use of a unit, we can all agree.

Sleepy walked in first, looked at the array of craft beers on offer and boomed, I like Stella. Brilliant haha. The barman then suggested a couple of lagers that would rival any 'premium' lager, including Stella. Two of those please, barman.

What was supposed to be one pint before getting back on a train to Clitheroe, turned into two. It was a good pint, we were sat outside and the sun was shining. Clitheroe can wait. Plus, the music on offer was decent too - eclectic, but decent. "Who sang this one?" asked a cock-sure Sleepy Lee.

Taking a moment to think, I finally quipped back, "Kenny Everett!"

What a wally part II haha. I obviously meant Kenny Rogers, which would've also been incorrect, but a less stupid answer. It was Glen Campbell anyway. Second pint finished, and the next train was a mere few minutes away, so we upped and left as I knew it could potentially take Sleepy a few minutes to get us back through the barriers. I volunteered to go through first, just in case.

Both safely onboard, we had to alight at Bolton before changing for another train to Clitheroe. We were umming and ahhing as to whether or not to get a beer in Bolton before getting our final train.

No offense, but the feeling we got from Bolton train station was depressing. We quickly looked at the timetable and luckily, the train to Clitheroe was 4 minutes away! Lets just get that and get out of Bolton was perhaps the wisest decision. Sorry Bolton.

An hour later, Clitheroe. Google maps pointed us in the general direction of Bowlands, but we wanted to stop off first for a beer. The Beer Shack was close by and has 4.8 on Google reviews. Winner. A couple of stein glasses of German lager and upstairs to the outside seating area we went. I whacked on some good old music on my Spotify (no, not Kenny Everett) and we kicked back and relaxed. The pint tasted beautiful after being cooped up on the train for an hour.

And then Janet from Thanet came in with two members of her family. She arrived like a whirlwind. A female Sleepy Lee. This was going to be fun. Sleepy immediately cottoned onto the fact she wasn't from round here. "Fu*k off, I'm not telling you.", was here reply when Sleepy quizzed her on where she was from.

"Have a guess.", she demended.

Saying Essex touched a nerve. Janet again told us to do one. She threatened to punch Sleepy numerous times. It was all good natured though - to be honest, I think they were both flirting.

Thanet in Kent is where Janet is from.

"How old do you think I am?" Janet said proudly.

Without skipping a beat, Sleepy shouted, "85!"

"Oh fu*k off, you." she replied looking at her family "I'm gonna knock him out!" Everyone was laughing, as her daughter said she's always like this. "He's the same", I said pointing at Sleepy.

Without realising her error, Janet informed us that she was actually 70, nearly 72!

We just laughed to ourselves again.

After finishing our pints, we decided we'd better head off - there's only so much of Janet from Thanet we could take.

The Bowland Brewery. Like a kid in a sweetie shop, I was in awe of the choice of beers on offer. Reading about different ones, I had a chat with the barstaff about what I was looking for. I tried two beers and settled for a pint of Alpha Beta, a crisp 4.5% IPA, with a hint of citrus. It was perfect.

Sleepy had a Madri.

Two or three or four beers and some deep conversations later, we realised we better sup up and head off to the game.

The game. We tend not to do match reports on here. It's not what it's about. Head over to TraffordFC.com for a superb and insightful match report. From me, all I will say is that we again dominated the second half but lacked a knock-out punch. Shoot more. Preferably on-target.

The game finished and we managed to negotiate a lift home with Leeky instead of Muggsy: Muggsy had important stuff to do and would be a while. Leeky was leaving right away. What was mainly a journey home via country lanes, was halted when we got on the M60. It was deadlock. We darted off at Eccles and avoided what would have been a standstill for hours. I kindly informed our supporters on the Trafford only WhatsApp group about the traffic and advised to leave at an earlier junction. What friends are for, eh.

A top day. Top laughs. Sh*t result. We'll be back and with a better result next time, I'm sure. See you Saturday.