In 1969, I had the misfortune to be sacked by Renold Chains (found asleep on the night shift), and was petrified of telling my old feller, who was very old school and would have gone ballistic.
I was engaged to Moses' mother at the time, and we decided to take our minds off this disaster by going to a football match. It was a bitterly cold night in February, and choice was extremely limited. Indeed there wasn't ANY choice.
Which was how we came to sit in the main stand at the Drill Field, and contract frostbite while watchibg an absolutely dreadful 0-0 draw between the Green Slime and Morecambe.
The upside of this was to take in the stream of dog's abuse handed out to the hapless Vics players by their "supporters". They had six of David Birch in that stand, and if I had been their centre forward (name eludes me but 14 stone of useless fat !) I'd have been tempted to jump into the stand and sort one or two of them out.