BREAKING NEWS

A very Happy New Year to you all . . . and special thanks for the encouraging feedback I’ve had from my temporary return to blogging, with Festive Break below.

 

It’s been so encouraging, in fact, that – sucker as I am for taking on extra stuff (but you know I love it really) – I will now upgrade it from annual to quarterly.

 

Or that’s the aim, anyway!  So watch out for my Easter Break, then Summer Break and Autumn Break.

 

In the meantime, for any readers new to me – or perhaps just fancying a fresh read of earlier offerings – you’ll find a few of the “ones I did earlier,” stretching back to my blog’s launch in 2015, in the Blog Archive to the right, here. 

 

Weekend Break launched in February this year and the ones prior to that were the blog’s original, longer version - with plenty of good old local nostalgia, local current life notes and only occasional footballer stuff! 

 

FROM ONE BLOGGER TO ANOTHER

You’ll forgive me, I’m sure – you will, won’t you? – for reproducing this extract below from the world-beating blog of John Marquis, accomplished author, journalist (my all-time favourite editor), artist and many more things besides

 

SELF-PUBLISHING PARTNERSHIP

EARNS THIRTY GRAND FOR CHARITY

 

I’VE written before about the merits of self-publishing, and the well-known novelists who have turned their backs on the mainstream trade.

Take the Chinese novelist cum sports writer Timothy Mo. He considered the advances offered by established publishers too puny for his gilded talents.

So he launched his own imprint, Paddleless Press, and went it alone with some success.

His fellow Booker short-lister J.L.Carr also became disillusioned by the shortcomings of major houses and launched his own firm, Olive Tree Press,  from the back bedroom of his semi in Kettering, Northants.

But one of the most heartening, and lucrative, ventures into self-publishing that I’ve encountered features my pal and former colleague Mike Truscott, whose many books on local history and Cornish sports heroes have now earned just short of £30,000 for charity.

Each title is diligently researched by Mike before he commits words to paper, then he hires a commercial printer to produce his attractively presented books.

While Mike himself researches and writes the story, his wife Janet supervises production. Their teamwork has created one of the most remarkable self-publishing ventures I’ve ever known.

Most remarkable of all is that every penny goes to Cancer Research UK, with all their labours donated free.

Latest titles from this Falmouth-based partnership is Streets Ahead, the story of Cornish footballer Andy Street, and Sixty Years a Soccer Boss, the astonishing tale of Melville Benney, Britain’s longest-serving football manager.

Mike, in an earlier incarnation, was the doyen of Cornish journalists, working as chief reporter for the Falmouth Packet group, and for rival weekly The West Briton. He also spent four years with the Liverpool dailies (the Echo and Daily Post), and freelanced for Lloyd’s List. For 25 years, he ran his own PR business, a tribute to his entrepreneurial flair.

He also happens to be one of my personal Top Twenty - the finest newsmen (and women) I’ve worked with during a 50-year career in newspapers and magazines. 

FESTIVE BREAK

OF BOOKS, BLOGS AND PAINTINGS

£30,000 CANCER MILESTONE IN SIGHT

 

Not quite sure why, but I see this blog website (latterly Weekend Break)  is continuing to attract healthy interest despite my having closed it down a few months ago for all but occasional footballer memoir promotions. 

 

One should “never say never,” of course, but for the time being at least I see no prospect of returning to its broader-interest base. 

 

Much though I’d like to have continued with it – because I loved doing it – circumstances had conspired to force me into concluding that something simply had to give. It was either my books (and occasional paintings) or the blog. 

 

And as the books and paintings raise money for Cancer Research, but the blog doesn’t, at least not directly, it was a no-brainer. 

 

That fund-raising will hopefully pass a major milestone in 2026.  If my current ghost-writing project – provisional cover design below – performs anywhere near as well as expected, then the grand total raised from my books and paintings since I retired in 2015 should pass £30,000. 

 

 

So a big thank-you to each and every one of you who has supported me these past 11 years with purchases or assistance in any way. 

 

It’s been a true labour of love – and all for a wonderfully worthy cause – and I certainly intend to continue with it all, majoring on a new book every 12 months, for just as long as I can. 

 

But meanwhile, as tiz Christmas time, ‘ere be a one-off festive foray back into blog territory for ee. . . 

 

THE WAYS WE CORNISH DE TALK - ALLEGEDLY

 

My sudden departure from “proper English” in that last paragraph above is a sort-of introduction to my theme here.

 

For starters, I’m wondering if ANYONE from any part of Cornwall ever talks, or has talked, in the way I’m about to exemplify. (Blowed if I recognise it, speaking as a Cornishman of 71 years’ residence here):--

 

“I’s never knowed ee go especially to church to do so. Not when there ain’t no service taking place” . . . . “ I’ll tells ee what; I could make ee a sandwich” . . . “You’re the Froggie, ain’t ee?” . . . “That’s how they sees it, but tain’t stopped me working” . . . “Ee tweren’t romantic in the least” . . . “Then I comes awake and remembers; they be the loneliest nights of all.”

 

These examples are taken from the novel I’ve just finished reading, Wild Strawberries, by Emma Blair (pen name for Iain Blair), which is set in Coverack in the Second World War.*

 

It reminded me of something I was once told when I made my first stab at novel-writing: “The moment you start using dialect and accents in dialogue, you’re treading on a minefield.” 

 

That is, getting any kind of balance between authenticity and readability is well nigh impossible.  In other words, the greater the “Cornish” consistency, the bigger the threat to fluency.

 

The “minefield” warning - 40 years ago - came from now-retired Cornish author Jane Pollard, whose Cornish-based historical novels were written as Jane Jackson, or similar. 

 

And it’s as true today as it was then – as I discovered when I recently caught up with her.

 

“I, too, have seen some dreadful examples of so-called Cornish dialect which was actually an all-purpose totally inaccurate bastardisation!” Jane told me.

 

“When you consider that Penryn dialect is different from Camborne, which is different again from Bude, it’s not surprising so many authors get it wrong.

 

“Most of the time this is due to sheer laziness!  They don’t bother to check Cornish grammar or sentence construction, yet there are plenty of books on the subject.”

 

In Wild Strawberries, there is a striking, nay hilarious, example of inconsistency when a returning merchant seaman relates over a thousand words or so how he survived a sinking.  

 

Without exception, his tale - entirely in quotes - is told in perfect English, in masterly prose in fact, only for the guy to revert immediately, upon completion, to talking Cornish, or at least the author’s attempt at that, e.g. “ . . . then a drink it be. Tis a long while since I had a pint of cider . . . I’s dog-tired anyhow. ’Twas a long journey down . . . You can’t imagine the times I’ve thought of ee." 

 

Oh, and another common failing when authors have their characters talking “Cornish” is to forget to drop their H’s, which again makes it all sound instantly and totally inauthentic.  

 

Lest you think I’ve got it in for Mr Blair, let me readily add that Wild Strawberries overall is a cracking good read, with the Paris Hotel at its heart and with at least one episode based on true life.

 

*  Notta lotta people know this, as Michael Caine might say, but Coverack was hit by an audacious daytime bombing raid in August, 1942, killing four people, injuring 21 more and destroying five houses.

 

WHEN IT SEEMED EVERYONE IN 

FALMOUTH (ALMOST) LOVED ME!

 

And while the Festive Season is still with us, here’s one from the archive, from one of my Packet columns back in 1984, in fact, published three days before that year’s Christmas Day (soon after I had become Falmouth Rotary Club’s youngest-ever member!):--

 

. . . there was one evening last week when for nearly three hours I was the most loved, lovable person in Falmouth. Despite the fact that my white moustache kept falling into my mouth whenever I spoke, scores of children beamed bright-eyed into my face, and their parents, too, were delighted to see me.

 

(Have you guessed who I was yet, this dark and cold winters night?)

 

My hood was altogether too big for me, too, and I had to cross roads very carefully and hold it above my forehead as I stooped to talk to the little ones.

 

One little boy – clever brat that he was – remarked: “I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Another, with an equally high score on the brat scale, said: “Hey, you’re wearing brown trousers.”

 

(Oh, come on, you’ve surely cottoned on by now!)

 

Close by me throughout my vigil was a giant snowman hauled on a trailer to the accompaniment of taped seasonal music. And members of Falmouth Rotary Club were knocking on doors with collecting tins for the club’s Christmas charities.

 

Oh, the unrestrained joy and innocence on those sweet little faces and whispering so precisely into my ear what they wanted for Christmas.

 

Oh tragedy that these delicate creatures must grow up and encounter this world’s wicked realities.

 

Happily, the reality for me and those collectors last week was nearly always a warm welcome and a generous donation.

 

In streets were you would anticipate little spare cash, residents without exception – from pensioners to toddlers in their night clothes – would come running with handfuls of coins.

 

At some of the more sumptuous households, however, we came across instances of people peering through their curtains and then not even coming to the door. 

 

To them, I say: shame on you, you latter-day Scrooges of Falmouth. To them goes this Santa’s blackest mark of the year!

 

HOW MY WIFE WAS TRAPPED - AND 

A CITY’S TRAMS WERE HALTED

 

We don’t have a big family – it’s not an endless stream of seasonal social visits to and from all and sundry – so during the Festive Season I usually turn my time to a bit of extra spring-cleaning/decluttering.

 

What often happens is that I stop and dwell on so many items from days gone by that I rarely shift anything like the amount I had in mind.

 

This year is no exception and included a reminder of the day, back in April, 1993, when a crash involving three of my family paralysed a city’s new tramway system.

 

“Once a newshound, always a newshound,” of course, and Guess Who duly issued this press release:--

 

A Falmouth woman was trapped for nearly an hour in a city centre accident that knocked out Manchester’s new tramway system on Thursday evening.

 

Mrs Janet Truscott, 41, was a front seat passenger in a car that collided with a tramcar. As a result, the city’s much-heralded  new transport system was brought to a standstill for one-and-a-half hours.

 

She was eventually cut free by firemen and taken by ambulance to Manchester Royal Infirmary Hospital, where she was treated for minor cuts, bruising and shock.

 

Mrs Truscott, wife of Falmouth public relations expert Mike, had travelled to Manchester by train with the couple’s two children, Annabelle, 14, and Lisa, 11.

 

The car was being driven by Mrs Truscott’s father, Mr Herbert Lowe of Swinton, who was unhurt. Annabelle, Lisa and Mr Lowe were treated in hospital for shock.

 

WHAT A BLAST – NOT!

 

Doubtless it will be a blast in many ways when the New Year is ushered in . . . but one “blast” that will be sadly absent, once again, will be the cacophony of ship’s horns from a rich variety of shipping in Falmouth Docks.

 

Long gone are the days when anything up to 20 vessels or more would be in dock and alongside, including two abreast and just occasionally three, with any number of ship types and company colours. 

 

You can just imagine what a great sound that lot made, can’t you, when the clock struck midnight.  

 

That was back in the post-war boom years of the 1950s and, to a lesser extent, into the early ‘60s.

 

Now you’ll be lucky to hear just one ship trumpeting away. That’s all it amounted to last year and the current picture is pretty much the same, with just three MoD ships constituting the seemingly permanent Docks scene. 

 

The long-term all-grey look is great for the yard’s stability, of course, but enough to make any keen shipspotter - or New Year’s reveller - cry into their bubbly!

 

MY IDEA OF CORNISH HEAVEN

 

Sadly, my painting is not progressing at the pace I would like. Art, of all things - for me anyway - requires total focus and if humanly possible a minimum of three hours at a time, to the exclusion of all else.  Say no more . . . 

 

So no freshly completed paintings for another month or two.  I’ve got two on the go at the moment, and in the meantime here’s a reminder of one of my all-time favourites (acrylic on canvas, 30 x 30cms), from a photo (Gunwalloe) by daughter Annabelle.

 

 

Apart from the particular technical challenges I overcame, I think its principal appeal for me is that it is so Cornwall . . . so my idea of escapism and relaxation, so that switch-off moment when you arrive at a beach, with peace and the sea awaiting, maybe at the end of a little walk with nothing but nature around you (e.g. Sunny Cove near Falmouth).

 

This one’s already spoken for – it was quickly snapped up when I put it here a couple of years ago – but you can see some others of mine, along with an insight into my art world, if you visit the gallery on my teacher’s website, Jeanni Grant-Nelson:  https://www.visual-awareness.com/store/c16/Mike.html

 

 

YOU KNOW YOU’RE GETTING OLDER WHEN . . .

 

. . . For the fourth time now in five weeks, you forget to retrieve your pound coin from the Tesco trolley slot! 

 

 

SO . . . POINTING THE WAY TO A BETTER MEMORY?

 

(Spring-chicken readers below 60 may wish to skip this item!)

 

Senior moments . . . doncha just love ‘em!  I have devised a mind game to keep the little pests at bay as best I can.

 

This is how it works. Quite simply, start each day with ten points and lose one each time you have one of those moments – or, more precisely, whenever you forget to do something, or do something familiar the wrong way.

 

It can be any little thing – including the classic “now what the blazes have I come into this room for?”   

 

And if you have what you would regard as an exceptional massive senior moment, whatever that might be, then you lose two points. 

 

Yesterday was the first day I tried this, and I was down to seven points after just my first three hours. (No, I’m not going to tell you my final score!)

 

Part of the challenge, of course, is not to forget how many points you’ve dropped as the day goes on. In which case – let’s now make another rule – that day’s challenge is red-carded and declared void. 

 

I’ll let you know how it all goes for me when I post my next Festive Break this time next year.

 

(If I remember to, of course. . . )

 

POSTIE’S PUZZLE

 

One of the photos in the Step Back In Time feature in this week’s Falmouth Packet was of a man identified in the caption as “Mr Wagstaff.”

 

That was it, just the two words, albeit with a reference elsewhere on the page acknowledging him as “a well-known face of the (1977) era.”

 

Robert Wagstaff was indeed well-known, as head of his namesake Falmouth-based group of china and glass stores. 

 

I also fondly recall him as the recipient of what has to have been one of the most creative postal addresses of all time on an envelope.

 

Here’s how it read:--

 

The Manager or Manageress

The China and Glass Shop

Quite Near To The Falmouth Bookshop, I Believe

And Not Far From Where The Road

Curves Around With A Pub And A Church

With Shops In Between

Leading To A Phone Box

The Main Street

Falmouth, Cornwall

 

NEXT BOOK – THE FIRST SNEAK PREVIEW

 

And finally, for a flavour of the Melville Benney book publishing later this year (see first item), try these extracts from its Foreword, written by Leon Prynn, Packet Newspapers Sports Editor, 1987-2010:--

If enthusiasm was the barometer for achieving success, then Melville Benney would have been one of the most successful football managers at the highest level in the country.

. . . during his time Melville, now 74, has probably ushered thousands of players through the early learning curve of adult football, which in itself is a major achievement. 

. . . he has also kept many clubs in existence by taking on additional off-field duties such as treasurer, secretary, linesman and even groundsman. If no-one was willing to do a particular job, Melville would volunteer to fulfil the role – or, on many occasions, all the roles even in a league capacity.

. . . Speaking to Melville after a match a while ago about pitch markings, he revealed that he didn’t have time on the day of the match to mark out the pitch and did it at 8.45 pm on a Friday evening because no-one else could – or would – do it. The knockout punch was that Melville had to mark the ground with a torch, but not a word of complaint, he just got on with the job as he has so often done over the years.

STOPPED IN MY TRACKS – BY NOTHING

Took a rare day off from dawn walking yesterday, but normal service quickly resumed this morning.

Except that it wasn’t normal.  I rounded Pendennis Point at 0802 and was struck by that rarest of sights:  no ships, no boats, no cars, no pedestrians.

Nothing, just me and the birds!  And there was another thing missing, even at that time:  full daylight.  

So here’s to those longer days and the first hints of spring – and a bit more “company” when I go round that Point!

THANKS FOR READING – AND WATCH OUT FOR ANOTHER FESTIVE BREAK FROM ME AROUND THIS TIME NEXT YEAR!  

TRURO-GATESHEAD LONGEST-EVER TRIP? NO, SAYS FORMER FALMOUTH SKIPPER!

Claims that today’s Truro City match at Gateshead sets up a new record as the longest away trip in English football are being disputed by a former skipper of the club’s one-time deadly local rivals Falmouth Town. 

ANDY STREET led Town to a domestic trophy “treble” in 1996-97 and won over 100 caps for Cornwall. 

 

On January 20, 2001, his Town side lost 4-1 at Bedlington in the FA Vase, which, he records in his memoir STREETS AHEAD, involved a round trip of 956 miles – 42 more than Truro-Gateshead. See this extract from Andy’s book (published wholly in aid of Cancer Research UK):  

 

. . . . there was the little matter of notching up yet another new record.  On January 20 we played away to Bedlington Terriers in the FA Vase, which became the longest trip ever made in any FA competition.

 

The distance was 478 miles, or a round trip of 956 – and the build-up was immense, the more so with the match in some doubt right up to an hour or so before kick-off because of the weather. Our mission even made it into the national press, being featured in Super Goals On Saturday, a weekly supplement published free with The Sun.  Here’s how reporter Vikki Orvice described it:--

 

FALMOUTH JOIN MILE-SIGH CLUB Falmouth Town are praying their FA Vase clash at Bedlington Terriers goes ahead today – after embarking on the longest-ever journey for a domestic fixture.  The Cornish outfit set off at 8.30am yesterday to make it to Northumberland ahead of their fourth round encounter, which kicks off at 3 pm this afternoon. It means travelling for TEN hours through FIFTEEN counties, racking jup nearly 500 miles on the way. And they will have to do it all over again when they return home tomorrow.

 

Not surprisingly, the prospect of the weather intervening is far from appealing. Falmouth secretary John Thompsonadmitted: “When we saw the draw and where Bedlington was, we thought “My God.”Their third rokund replay with Nantwich went to a replay and we were praying that Bedlington lost. We’re looking anxiously at the weather now and just hope the game goes ahead.  We’ll play on glass.

 

Thompson has spent the last two weeks arranging the trip, which will cost £3,000, although the FA have agreed to cover any losses. He added: “We considered flying, but we woulds have had to get to Bristol first, which would have meant leaving atr 3am. So we decided to leave on Friday by coach. We planned to stay in Newcastle on Friday and Saturday and then return, hopefully, with a win.”

 

Falmouth are Jewson South Western League champions and their longest trip in the division is a 70-mile jaunt to Tavistock. They will take 53 people to today’s game and have travelled in the double-decker tour bus usually used by singer Elkie Brooks. Thompson said: “Our striker Luke Hodge’s dad Al is a session musician with Elkie Brooks, so he arranged it. It normally carries six or seven beds which have been taken out – although we might have been able to use them! 

 

The team . . . will be underdogs against a Bedlington outfit who reached the FA Vase final two years ago. But Falmouth manager David Bull (sic) insisted: “They won’t want a replay!”

 

They didn’t need one; they beat us 4-1 on an absolute bog of a pitch.  In normal circumstances, the match would never have been played, but the ref said he was prepared to let it go ahead as we had travelled so far.  Arguably, Bedlington were much the better side, but the manner of our defeat was actually very frustrating as we came so close to reaching the next round.  Sid Taylor, I’m convinced, had his best game ever for us and kept us in the running with so many great saves.  Then, with just ten minutes or so left, Luke Hodge was brought down as he was about to shoot from just six yards and he converted his penalty – while the culprit escaped with just a yellow card.  On another occasion they might even have been reduced to nine men, as one of their players actually threw mud at the ref but was allowed to stay on the pitch! Then Bedlington equalized in the 87^th minute – through that mud-thrower - and went on to sow the game up in extra time.  

 

And so, the old saw about a long, long way home for the losers took on even greater resonance – although Luke at least managed to bag the one remaining bed on the coach for a good day’s sleep all the way back home the next day! Our tale of Bedlington woe also included the loss of defender Ian Stephens, who saved a certain goal with his hand, the absence altogether of my brother Sage through suspension and my substitution with my poor legs being deemed too old to cope with the extra time. 

 

  STREETS AHEAD is published wholly in aid of Cancer Research UK and priced at £5, with higher donations strongly encouraged. It is available by contacting Andy direct: a.street831@btinternet.com

THE LITTLE CLUB THAT IS ONE OF ANDY’S GREATEST MEMORIES

ANDY “SLEDGE” STREET’s Cornish football career was nothing if not illustrious, with 20 winners’ medals and eight runners-up with Falmouth Town, Newquay, Bugle and St Blazey, plus over a hundred Cornwall “caps.” 

 

It’s all recounted in vivid detail in his memoir, STREETS AHEAD, out now in aid of Cancer Research UK and with another personal signing session at a special sales event near St Austell this Friday.* 

 

Some of Sledge’s fondest memories of all came with his first years at a South Western League outfit, Bugle, a club that has ceased to exist altogether since 1998. 

 

In his book, Sledge recalls how the Bugle of the early 1980s were transformed from the league’s whipping boys – regularly suffering heavy defeats - to the all-conquering champions, as per this abbreviated extract:-- 

 

At the end of the 1983-84 season, Bugle strengthened their emerging status as one of Cornwall’s top teams by winning the South Western League Cup, beating Tavistock 2-0 at Launceston. This was the club’s first cup final appearance since 1952, when they beat Saltash United 3-2 in the Cornwall Senior Cup..        

 

That proved to be manager Bobby Bell’s swan song. He moved on and was succeeded by Terry Huddy,who led us so memorably to the league title, finishing five points ahead of St Blazey.  

 

That was phenomenal – especially as older supporters would still not have forgotten how their club had been the league’s whipping boys some 20 years earlier, with at least one double-figures defeat.  

 

Our final match in that title season was away to Launceston, which we won 5-1 (having already secured the title by beating Plymouth Civil Service 1-0 in the previous game) and I well remember the presentation of the trophy and medals in the clubhouse after the match.  The best part was that my brothers Dave and Sage were also part of that great team and to win it together made it even more special (a feat we would later repeat together). 

 

As champions, and as per tradition, we played a SWL XI on May 21, 1985, and the programme notes for that occasion underline just how noteworthy our title success had been.  Tristan Scott, League chairman and former chairman of the club itself, wrote: “I have suffered Bugle’s results over the years and to share the honour which this season’s team have brought to the club is tremendous.” He described Bugle as “much the smallest community to boast a team in such a high standard of football.” Over the years, Bugle had had to seek re-election, but the continuing support and faith of the other clubs had now been fully justified.        

 

Sadly, Bugle were relegated from the South Western League in 1991-92 and ceased to exist as a club altogether by 1998. But the memories live on and, notwithstanding the treasure trove of medals and trophies that subsequently came my way, my time with Bugle was stand-out special in so many ways. After four happy years, though, it was time for me to move on. 

 

* Sledge will be personally signing all copies of his book sold at AJ’s Cafe and Bar at Beach Road, Carlyon Bay, St Austell, this Friday, October 17, starting at 4 pm. The book is priced at £5, with higher donations strongly encouraged. If you can’t attend the AJ’s event, please contact Sledge direct through Messenger, WhatsApp or by email: a.street831@btinternet.com.   

‘SLEDGE’ BOOK LAUNCH FOR CANCER RESEARCH

ANDY “SLEDGE” STREET, skipper of Falmouth Town’s 1997 treble-winning side and holder of more than a hundred Cornwall caps, will be signing copies of his book, STREETS AHEAD, in the clubhouse at Falmouth’s Bickland Park ground on Saturday, October 4.  

The book will be sold wholly in aid of Cancer Research UK, with a cover price of £5 but with higher donations encouraged. The launch will be underway before and after Town’s Southern League match against Swindon Supermarine that day (kick-off 3pm), plus during half-time. 

It is anticipated that the event will be attended by a number of Sledge’s fellow living legends from the “treble” team that won the South Western League, League Cup and Cornwall Senior Cup in the one season.  

All told, Sledge collected 20 winners’ medals and eight runners-up in 23 years as a prominent player in Cornish senior football, principally with Falmouth and Newquay. He also enjoyed notable successes with Bugle and St Blazey.  

THE FA CUP SAGA THAT RAN TO 540 MINUTES!

Tomorrow sees Falmouth Town take on Bideford in the FA Cup. These two old rivals have produced some epic clashes down the years, and none more so than that of 1973 – with a record-equalling saga that certainly can’t be matched tomorrow.  So let’s dip into my archive with this blog piece originally published in 2017:--

 

THE REF WHO WAS HUGELY POPULAR . . . MOST OF THE TIME!

 

As you would expect, the recent “Legends” soccer match marking the 60^th anniversary of Falmouth Town’s Bickland Park ground prompted many a trip down Memory Lane.

 

One such concerned one of the all-time most respected Cornish referees – and the occasion when he was, exceptionally, none too popular with the Falmouth club.

 

In the 1960s and ‘70s, Bill Pearce was a familiar and formidable figure on the field of play.  He was very much “loud and clear,” with his voice echoing around the grounds, and his commanding gait was instantly recognizable, with his big, rapid strides.

 

He was definitely not flavour of the month, though, in the autumn of 1973, when Falmouth and Bideford were involved in a record-equalling FA Cup third qualifying round saga.

 

The occasion was the third replay at Bickland Park, played on a midweek afternoon to avoid power cuts at that time.  It was well into stoppage time, with Town leading 2-1 and everyone in the Falmouth camp screaming for Bill to blow for full-time . . . but where oh where was that final whistle?

 

Alas, an innocuous-looking cross from Ben Murphy deceived concussed Town goalkeeper Phil Hewlett to level the tie. Player-manager Richard Gray went into goal for the extra time and, with an injured Tony Kellow moving on to the wing, Falmouth held out for another replay – and for a good while after that Bill was not quite so popular with Falmouth fans!

 

For it was Bideford who eventually went through to the next round, winning the fourth replay 2-1 at Plymouth Argyle’s Home Park.

 

At a grand total of 540 minutes’ playing time, it equalled the record for the longest-ever tie at the third qualifying round stage of this famous competition.  It can now never be beaten, with the introduction since then of the penalty shoot-out after a first replay.

 

Bill Pearce, RNAS Culdrose FC life president and former county referee, died in 2019, aged 87.  Four years earlier I spoke to him for the last time and wrote this piece for the Sunday Independent:--

 

What a host of fond memories Dave Deacon triggered with his reference to Cornish referees living legend Bill Pearce last week.

 

I caught up with Bill a few days later and, almost in unison, we both straightaway recalled his trademark command on the pitch: “Play on, you goddit.”

 

Bill, now 82, earned enormous respect among players and spectators alike.  He was loud and clear – his voice echoing around the grounds – and his commanding gait was instantly recognisable, with those big, rapid strides of his.

 

During our chat, “Pearcey” told me that to the best of his knowledge he is the only official ever to have refereed two Cornwall Senior Cup Finals – in 1959 and 1972.

 

The first went to a replay, with Truro City beating St Blazey at Penzance after drawing at St Austell. Bill recalled that St Blazey included an inside forward called Gardner who later died in a motor cycle accident, while the Truro goalkeeper was Melville Triggs, who came from Ludgvan – the parish where Bill has spent most of his life.

 

His second Senior Cup Final was won easily by St Austell at Falmouth against a giant-killing Looe (Plymouth and District League) side, compiled by the club’s Fred Jones who called up his Devonport Dockyard contacts to bring players of the calibre of Peter Loveys, the Quest brothers (Geoff and Bob), “Binky” Revell, and Danny Gordon, among many others, to the fishing resort.

 

Characters, though, don’t come any bigger than Bill Pearce – although he did have a rival in this category, namely Bill Cheshire, who was nicknamed by many as “the Cheshire cat” for his seemingly permanent grin as he officiated.

 

The simple truth was that both Bills refereed with a smile – very much a key to their authority.

 

Alas, Pearcey reflects: “I know when we grow old we always say it was better in my day – but in so many ways it was! 

 

“About the only thing that has improved in football in my lifetime is the facilities. The honesty has gone out of the game, with players diving and routinely disputing clearly correct decisions.

 

“It also irks me to see such small attendances at the local matches, and it seems so few people nowadays want to commit themselves to helping out for their clubs.  Television has a lot to answer for – there is far too much football on the box.”