“I fell in love with you,
The Last Waltz
The last waltz will last forever,
It’s all over now, nothing left to say,
Just the Gills at the Rainham End singing,
Naa naa naa na-na-na-naaa
Na-na-na-naaa,
The Gills!”
“Do you fancy going to Sheffield at the weekend?”
“Sounds nice. I’ve never been to Sheffield.”
“Great! Gills are playing Rotherham on Saturday, so we can go the match, then have a night out in Sheffield with Sam and Dave.”
Well, I walked right into that one.
It was the early noughties, and early days in my relationship with The Man of Kent. We were both studying at Nottingham, and Gillingham FC were in the Championship.
At that time, I was young, and naïve, and my soul was not yet battered from years of consoling a long-suffering Gills fan. The Man of Kent would occasionally sing the old football chant, ‘In your Northern slums’, at me in those days – in good humour, of course. Despite this, I would accompany him to away games that weren’t too far from Nottingham, because Gillingham FC is one of the great loves of his life.
I remember a friend assuring me once that The Man of Kent “is a good egg.” This friend hadn’t met The Man of Kent at the time, so I asked how he could possibly know. My friend answered immediately and confidently, “Because he supports his local team – not everyone does.”
That’s true, on both counts. The Man of Kent is a good egg. He’s also not one of those glory hunters who were born and bred in Medway, but pledge allegiance to Man United or Liverpool or some other Premier League side. No. He is a staunch supporter of the Gills. He and his Dad attend every home game at Priestfield. Of course, like any football fan, he has threatened not to renew his season ticket after a run of poor performances, fumed for hours over a dodgy refereeing decision, and contributed a fair amount of salty post-match analysis to online fan forums. But he is Gillingham through and through. A true Shouting Man. Literally so on match days.
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