HOW THE MIGHTY HAD YET TO RISE

Met up with Mike Buckley, a one-time Falmouth Packet colleague and fellow Falmouth Town supporter of six decades, at a recent Bickland Park match.

 

It was our first chat for a long, long time and, boy, did the memories flow.

 

For a while, in fact, we had both been members of the famous all-conquering Falmouth Packet All-Stars football team of the late 1960s and early ‘70s. 

 

(In one of those games, I scored all six Packet goals, and the match report in the following week’s paper began with “Mike Truscott was in scintillating form . . . ”  although, ahem, I forget now who actually wrote that.)

 

Another thing Mike and I shared – when we were even younger, in our early to mid-teens – was our love of days out to Plymouth to watch Argyle’s matches in the then Second Division (now Championship).

 

We would each travel up with a group of other lads, and Mike recalled the day when he and his pals waited outside the Home Park ground after a match to seek autographs of their heroes.

 

One of them was Mike Bickle, a former milkman who was snapped up by Plymouth from St Austell and went on to become their top scorer in four consecutive seasons, from 1966-70.

 

With such a golden goal touch, and in the lofty heights of the second tier of the English league system, you might have expected Mike Bickle to have been rolling in riches by then.

 

Except that that era was still a long way off from today’s rosy financial picture for professional footballers.

 

At very least, there was no Jag or Bentley for the ace marksman, according to the evidence recalled by Mike Buckley: “He very happily signed our match programmes for us and then went over to his car – which turned out to be a clapped-out banger of a Mini!

 

“It was so clapped out, in fact, that it wouldn’t start.  So he called us over and asked if we could give him a push start. We were all only too delighted to do that, of course; we did get him going all right, and he gave us a thumbs-up out of his window as he finally drove off.”  

MAYBE IT WORKED FOR HAALAND, BUT RAPPO MIGHT DISPUTE THIS THEORY!

For all his staggering goalscoring feats in recent years and his astronomical transfer fee and wages, Erling Haaland has been misfiring a little too often for Manchester City of late.

 

I notice he was back on the scoresheet yesterday when he returned after another injury absence.

 

While he was out of action, I got to thinking that it would not surprise me at all, in this day and age, if we had learnt that his employers had brought in a life coach to help him rediscover his magic touch.

 

And having been down that positive-thinking road myself to some extent, I recalled one of the “rules” of the game, namely that by Visualising Your Desired Outcome you actually make it that much more likely to come about.

 

I buy that to a certain extent, and it’s a fact that plenty of people of similar devotion swear by it.

 

But there’s one guy I know well who I suspect would have big doubts on that score. Mark “Rappo” Rapsey clearly visualised his outcome – didn’t he just! – when he had a great scoring opportunity in a vital match for his favourite club, Falmouth Town.

 

You’ll see what I mean with this extract from his autobiography, IT’S A RAP, recalling Town’s 1-0 win over St Blazey in the South Western League Cup Final at Truro in 1991:--

 

Then, three minutes into injury time, I had the chance to put the game to bed and bury all those nerves – and I fluffed it!  Tommy headed out of defence and I was suddenly clear, outpacing Dave Jones and closing in on goal, with Nutey coming out to meet me.  

 

It was a favourite finishing scenario of mine.  The ball was still bouncing nicely for me and, with Nute well off his line, the ball begged to be lobbed over him and into the net.  In my head, I was actually already celebrating – I could see the headlines (no kidding).  

 

Only snag, my lob hit the top of the bar and bounced safely behind the goal. I couldn’t believe it.  I was absolutely gutted.  If they get the equalizer now, I thought, I will never live it down; I will blame myself forever.  I felt certain that if it went to extra time, St Blazey would have won it.  

 

But it didn’t, and when the ref blew for time – a few minutes after my dreadful miss – it was the best final whistle I had ever heard. I fell to my knees with relief.  I even broke my teetotal rule by joining in the celebrations with a shandy afterwards!

 

A VERY SEDATE PUBLIC SPAT, 1980s-STYLE

Not easy to recall now, I know, but there was a time when a weekly newspaper’s readers’ letters page would be a hotbed of lively comment and debate on local topics.

 

Sadly, that is rarely the case now, with social media long since having become first stop for anyone with an axe to grind.

 

An extreme instance has been the recent flood of bile surrounding our poor Princess of Wales’ health.

 

But no day passes without plenty of other lesser examples, with no holds barred and liberal use of gutter language – partly, of course, because it is all so instantly possible, before the worst of our emotions can be reined in. 

 

The Falmouth Packet of July 9, 1988, published a letter that amounted to a public spat between a reporter and a well-known local retailer but which, by comparison with today’s at-each-other’s throats arena, was positively sedate.  

 

The subject matter was another of those what-if projects that were grand in their ambition but never became reality, and the letter also touched on that other hoary old chestnut, media “bias.” 

 

Here’s how that letter, from Mr A Acton-Page, Trago Mills regional branch manager, began:--

 

“I know your reporter was at the Trago (Longdowns) site meeting because I saw her. She did not speak to anyone from the company.

 

“I have to assume that her pencil was broken because her report is so inaccurate that although I had promised myself that I would not write on this subject again I am somewhat forced into it.”

 

Much “fact”-disputing followed before Mr Acton-Page concluded:  “It must sadden the thousands of supporters of this project, and the hundreds of job-seekers, that these inaccuracies can be printed in such a way as to appear to negate the wishes of so many of them and whilst you have stated to me that the Packet does not take sides I leave your readers to draw their own conclusion.”

 

The reporter involved, Moira Holden, fired back with the footnote defending her article and adding: “Mr Acton-Page’s suggestion that I didn’t speak to anyone from his company is unjust because I spoke to his employer, Mr Mike Robertson, at the site meeting and asked for his comments.

 

“Perhaps Mr Acton-Page is upset that I didn’t speak to him about the proposed Longdowns site, but my policy is to speak to the man at the top.

 

“If Mr Acton-Page had taken the trouble to enquire within his company, he would have discovered that I had spoken to Mr Robertson.”

 

So there!  Both combatants, you could say, made their points forcefully but in controlled and measured fashion.  With not a single emoji or foul word to be seen! 

DIFFERENT: THE STUDENTS WHO STAYED UP ALL NIGHT ON A WORK-IN!

The colourful newsletter that fell onto my doormat this week informed me that Falmouth University is celebrating its 20^th anniversary this year.

 

As gushers go, it was pretty impressive, with much talk of “world class” facilities and achievements, “driving positive change in Cornwall,” “cutting edge computer science . . .  revolutionising creative endeavour” etc etc.

And why not?  It can clearly boast a success story to be proud of and with more than 5,000 students enrolled there’s no denying the impact it makes on the Falmouth-Penryn area.

 

If it’s a mighty oak now, then it has grown from a very small acorn – indeed, one that for a while looked in serious danger of disappearing altogether in the 1980s.

 

Its forerunner was the long-established and much-acclaimed Falmouth School (and later College) of Art.

 

It hit the headlines in September, 1984 – when the students, from memory, would still have been in the hundreds.

 

In that month the school breathed a big sigh of relief with the news that it was no longer under immediate threat of closure.  

 

In what they called “a symbolic gesture of solidarity,” students announced that they would stay up all night on a “work-in.” (Different!)

 

They and the school’s staff set out to convince the authorities that growth rather than closure was the best policy.  

 

This was in the light of the Government’s cost-cutting National Advisory Body making it clear that it would be further assessing all advanced courses in art and design in Cornwall in a forthcoming major two-year planning exercise. 

 

School principal Tom Cross commented: “It has made us realise that the school is small and a long way from large centres of population, but that it is held in very high repute by a lot of people in Cornwall and further afield.” 

 

The level of support had been “astonishing,” he added, and a period of growth and development over the next few years was now confidently anticipated. 

 

A school statement said: “This has been a hard battle.  We are grateful for the cohesive support shown by the governors and in particular Patrick Heron, who led the attack on the suggestion of closure.”  

THE WAY WE WERE

 

Extracts from GUIDE TO FALMOUTH By R N Worth, published 1891

 

How Penryn Actors Foiled Spanish Invaders 

 

Before Pendennis and St Mawes (castles) were built, the whole coast lay open to the enemy and “Gosson’s School Of Abuse” records an amusing incident said to have occurred at Penryn about the middle of the 16^thCentury. 

 

Certain Spaniards landed unexpected and undiscovered, with intent to take the town, spoil and burn it. Certain actors were presenting a miracle play – that of “Sampson,” it is said – in a barn.

 

As the Spaniards landed, Sampson was let loose on the Philistines with a loud alarum of drums and trumpets.

 

The enemy, fearing they were discovered, fired a few shots in bravado, and in a hurly-burly fled disorderly to their boats, pursued to the sea by the now ready townsfolk. 

 

‘Impudent’ Friends Built Their Own House In Falmouth

 

The Society of Friends has been represented in Falmouth for upwards of 200 years. A paper in the Public Record Office states that in 1667 they had grown so impudent at Falmouth that that they were actually building a house to meet in; and this, although many of their brethren had been sent to gaol for daring to assemble for worship. 

 

The meeting at Falmouth is, and has long been, the largest in the county, and many of the most prominent and useful Falmouthians are, or have been, connected with this body. The present meeting house, in Gyllyng Street, is a new and neat edifice. 

AT LAST: A NEW WINNER IN THE GRAND OVERDONE LOVE SCENE AWARD SCHEME

“A shared crescendo like a hymn of heaven and a thousand sweet symphonies.”

 

From time to time down the decades, in MT columns in various media outlets, and with tongue firmly in cheek, I have referred to my annual Grand Overdone Love  Scene Award Scheme.

 

Loosely defined, this served to highlight total tosh from writers who should know better and which, even now, I can scarcely believe ever actually made it into print.

 

The scheme has all but gone into hibernation, however, with one writer having remained the unchallenged No 1 year after year.

 

Until now.

 

Thanks to a fresh reading of Arthur Hailey’s best-selling AIRPORT, published in 1968, I now realise that the previous champion, at long last, must surrender his dubious title.

 

Here’s Hailey’s winning contribution:--

 

“ . . . she had wanted to hurry, and cried out, ‘Yes, yes! Oh please, I can’t wait!’ But he insisted gently: ‘Yes, you can, you must.’ And she obeyed him, being utterly, deliciously in his control, while he led her as if by the hand like a child, close to the brink, then back a pace or two while they waited with a feeling like floating in air; then near once more, and back, and the same again and again, the bliss of it all near-unendurable; and finally when neither of them could wait longer, there was a shared crescendo like a hymn of heaven and a thousand sweet symphonies, and if Cindy had been able to choose a moment for dying, because nothing afterwards could ever be that moment’s equal, she would have chosen then.”

 

Opinions may vary, of course, but you might agree with me that this puts Wilbur Smith’s offering in THE BURNING SHORE, from 40 years ago, well and truly in the shade:--

 

“When he smiled at her, Centaine felt the world lurch beneath her feet.  When it steadied, she realised that it had altered its orbit and was on a new track amongst the stars. Nothing would ever be the same again.”   

 

Personally, I think the wonder of it all is how/whether Messrs Hailey and Smith could possibly have kept a straight face when writing this stuff.  Maybe they didn’t!  

FALMOUTH IN THE ’80s (17)

Pier Aggro: ‘Welcome To Toytown’ – But Not For The Planning Chief

Planning officers, inevitably, tend not to be the most popular of people. A visit to the Prince of Wales Pier in the early 1980s turned ugly for Carrick planning chief Stephen Watson - and his children. This and the mysterious appearance of a large banner saying “Welcome To Toytown” were among the shots fired in a continuing war of words over the £60,000 revamping of the pier entrance.

 

Mr Watson said he went to the pier with his children to see the work being carried out, only for one of the boatmen there to become very aggressive and abusive. “He threatened me with physical violence because, I assume, of what has been happening at the pier,” he said.  

 

Much of the concern had centred around the creation of mushroom-shaped boatmen’s huts and public seating stands, which Carrick regarded as a great improvement. However, the previous broad, paved aspect of the pier entrance had found favour with many local people, who liked the wide open view from Market Strand.  

 

Mr Watson felt a lot of the criticism received was “not valid,” adding:  “I accept that no matter what you do you will not please everybody.” He acknowledged that emergency vehicles could not access the pier now, but if the services made very strong representations to the council they would reconsider the point.  

 

He would not be taking up boat operator George Pill’s call for him to resign over the row. “Almost every planning officer is called on to resign with boring repetition,” he said.  “On every scheme, you upset somebody.” 

 

Of the “Toy Town” sign, mysteriously put up in the early hours, Mr Watson said: “We have had it described as Toy Town and as Disneyland. If it brings as much to Falmouth as Disneyland brings in, then Falmouth will be very lucky.”

 

A petition mounted by Mr Pill accused Mr Watson and Carrick architect Harry Grant of throwing away cash on the monstrosity at the pier and quickly gathered around a thousand signatures.

 

Branch Line Rescued By New Generation Trains

 

The Falmouth-Truro branch railway line, for so long the subject of closure speculation, had probably been saved with the introduction of the new generation “bus on rails” trains, it was reported in 1984.  Faster, more comfortable and much cheaper to run, they were due to be phased in over the next two years.  Without them, said Peter Foot, British Rail’s traffic manager for Truro and east Cornwall, it was “virtually certain” the line would have gone.

 

The new units, part of a £4.5 million investment plan by BR for branch lines in Cornwall and Devon, were expected to achieve at least a 50 per cent reduction in fuel consumption and to reduce maintenance costs. The South West region would be the first in the country to use the Class 142 train – an advanced version of the Class 141.  The new class had a Leyland bus body on a rail underframe and seating arrangements and interior design similar to those of modern single-deck buses. 

 

The units they would replace had been operating on the Falmouth-Truro line for more than a quarter of a century – for as long as the line had gone over to diesel from steam – and had never been intended for such long service, said Mr Foot. He added: “What determines the future of the line is the amount of public service grant aid that the Government is prepared to give. The point is that, once the capital cost has been provided for, the running cost will be considerably lower and therefore the line will be much more likely to be retained by the Government grant.” 

 

The local line had been a loss-maker for many years and was repeatedly rumoured to have been on the verge of closure. It had long been regarded as one of the most vulnerable in the country and in 1979 it was revealed that its running costs were three times higher than its receipts.  This had remained the case since, BR confirmed.

 

Roffs’ New Owners Pledge To Keep It Local

 

A management buyout at Roffs Print Ltd, Falmouth’s second largest employer, ensured that the operation would stay in the town, managing director Cliff Brown declared. “It was the owners’ intention to sell the business, but by taking over we are ensuring that the operation stays local,” he said. He and production director Ken Wells acquired a controlling shareholding in the business from its previous controlling shareholders, Pat Wybrow and Jack Lightfoot.  

 

The new owners planned to continue expansion of the company, whose workforce had risen to 80.  It benefitted from a very low turnover of labour and was a market leader in production of continuous stationery, security printing and personalised payment books, with shift work maintaining 24-hour output for five days a week. Mr Brown commented: “We felt we could make a better job of running the company ourselves than doing so for a large group. We know the workforce, we know our industry and we know our business.”

 

The Lady Who Said ‘No,’ Again And Again, To Free National Exposure

 

If you were running a business and you were offered a free plug on national TV, chances are you would jump at it, yes? Even if it meant a departure from routine and some special arrangements. But not so one proud lady in Falmouth’s High Street in March, 1984.  BBC TV producer Chris Tandy was astounded when Sue Jackson, joint owner of Cabaret, repeatedly said “no thank you” to a spot on Saturday Superstore.  He first contacted Mrs Jackson seven weeks earlier after Cabaret – described as “that weird and wonderful array of performing automatons and highly original bric-a-brac” – had been featured on the Taje Hart programme. 

 

“He asked me if I would like to go along and wind the handles of some of our exhibits for the Saturday Superstore programme at its Grove Place headquarters,” she said. “I refused. He could not believe it and I told him I had also refused a fortnight earlier to go up to Birmingham for Pebble Mill At One. I explained that they should come and see us on our premises. Then they would realise that Cabaret is very much a whole event. To film just a few of the exhibits in isolation would not really show what it’s all about.” Or, as the Cabaret brochure put it, “It’s so unique, we can’t describe it.”

 

Mrs Jackson told Mr Tandy: “You read the articles on us in Illustrated London News and She and Craft magazines; then you will see what I mean.”  Several more phone conversations produced a compromise. Rather than have her “winding her handles” live on the programme, the two agreed on a pre-recorded three-minute session at Grove Place.  So the BBC laid on a Range Rover to transport a number of items from the shop to Grove Place on the afternoon before the show was broadcast, when Mrs Jackson was able to have more of a say in things. Viewers may also have noticed a 7ft clown complete with balloons at the back of the stage. This, too, was the work of Cabaret, specially constructed for the programme. 

 

The Gardens Venture That Hit The Jackpot

 

Today it would be called “going viral” and your email inbox would be full to overflowing. The 1980s equivalent – for a marketing exercise hitting the jackpot – was a mountain of physical post lying on your front door mat, making it almost impossible to open that door. This was the experience of Pamela Long, secretary/organiser of the Falmouth Spring Garden Holidays scheme in the autumn of 1982, when she was met one morning with 290 letters that threatened to surge forward into the corridor of her home in Melvill Road.  The experience was repeated over several more days.

 

The scheme was financed and promoted by a consortium of nine Falmouth hotels offering fully-inclusive spring holidays with free coach travel and admission to Cornwall’s most beautiful gardens.  The consortium decided to invest more than a thousand pounds on a press launch weekend, inviting a hundred gardening writers and correspondents from various newspapers and magazines.  Seven took up the offer to be wined, dined and shown Cornwall’s horticultural delights.  Results – leading on to that mountain of mail – included major articles in the Daily Telegraph, Practical Gardening, Amateur Gardening and Popular Gardening, along with the Sunday Telegraph, Sunday Times, The Observer, Woman’s Weekly and Home And Countrycoming on board later.  Consequently, there were nearly 1,300 enquiries from the Telegraph alone, resulting in 650 holidaymakers taking a spring holiday in Falmouth in 1983 and pumping around £100,000 into the area in the process. 

 

Altogether, the hotels concerned had put £32,000 into the scheme in its first five years, with Mrs Long commenting: “I think this is a most important factor in marketing Falmouth and making it a resort for all seasons.  No-one can rely any more on people just coming to Falmouth for a holiday; you have got to go out and get them.”

 

Peter Calls Time On Love Affair With Football

 

After a lifetime of being actively involved in football up and down the country, Peter Thorpe finally called it a day.  His passionate love affair with the game began in the mid-1940s, when he played for St Columb, but he was soon to move to Bristol, where he turned out for the Fire Brigade until a run of injuries forced him to quit playing.  He decided to take up refereeing and at the end of his first season in 1965 was promoted to Class II. It was the beginning of a long and distinguished career that over the years earned him many honours on and off the afield.   After obtaining his Class I status in 1973 he refereed the Somerset County Youth Final. The following season he returned to Falmouth, where his no-nonsense style of refereeing quickly earned him the respect of players and thus ensured even more honours including many more cup finals, both locally and further afield. 

 

His insatiable appetite for involvement in soccer eventually took him into the administrative side of the sport, where he became a councillor on the Falmouth-Helston League and represented local referees on the Cornwall County Referees Association (CCRA) executive committee. The pinnacle of his career was his appointment as chairman of the CCRA, where he strove to achieve an efficient working relationship with the Cornwall County Football Association. 

BOOKS AND PAINTINGS UPDATE

Many of you (well, at least five) have asked what’s happened to my local nostalgia books.

 

Well, the simple answer is that they have run their course and I have no plans to do any more.

 

For the time being at least, I am focussing just on my ghost-written Cornish footballer autobiographies and, of course, this blog.  Plus my paintings, on which more in a mo.

 

All of which I love doing.

 

The Falmouth nostalgia books could easily have run on forever and a day, but I concluded that two books a year, along with my other commitments, was starting to get just a bit too much for this retired old codger.

 

As for my little foray into novel-writing, well, the plotting and writing were hugely enjoyable but ultimately a poor fit with everything else in my life; with the benefit of hindsight, I would probably have been wiser to have been guided by my head rather than my heart, and stayed well clear of it. Next life, perhaps!

 

My present book project – GAME OF TWO HALVES The Tommy Matthews Story – is now well advanced and should easily hit publication target of September/October this year.

 

In the meantime, I’ve now begun work on the next book after that – RAPPO’S WORLD OF FOOTBALL FUN – and secured one of the top names in Cornish football as my autobiography project for 2025-26.

 

As with all my fund-raising projects – books and paintings – all moneys go direct to Cancer Research UK.

 

Regarding those paintings, a goodly number of them, of course, have featured here and on social media over the last few months, with greatly encouraging results and comments.

 

You may like to know that you can see more of my paintings in the online artshop of my teacher Jeanni Grant-Nelson - https://www.visual-awareness.com/store/c16/Mike.html 

THE DAY IT ALL HAPPENED IN FALMOUTH: BOBBY MOORE . . . A REVOLUTIONARY NEW YACHT . . . AND A ROCKET FOR THE JUMP JET

Very hard to believe now, especially when you walk through its main street and see so many empty shops, but there was a time in the not-so-distant past when Falmouth was being hailed as the South West’s boom town.

 

That was probably never more so than in the summer of 1988, with Peter de Savary (PdS), then Falmouth-based, at the height of his swashbuckling Cornish entrepreneurial powers.

 

Not only was he seemingly buying up everything that moved (or at least trying to), he was also attracting much international publicity with his revolutionary new monohull Blue Arrow, targeting the America’s Cup yacht race.

 

The media spotlight came to a head in July of that year with the launch of the Blue Arrow at Falmouth Docks, where she had been built by Pendennis Shipyard, itself another of PdS’s projects. 

 

As was customary, no expense was spared for the grand launch event and among the special celebrity guests that day was none other than Bobby Moore, captain of the 1966 England World Cup-winning side.

 

The guests also included someone a little less famous, Falmouth Packet reporter Moira Holden.

 

According to the paper’s unidentified Pendennis columnist, she was “star-struck” and  “all a flutter” for a week or more after the great man himself had stopped beside her and asked:  “Is that seat free?”

 

Moira, a self-confessed football fanatic, later commented: “I have told the tale of my  chance meeting with my hero so many times I’m even getting a bit bored with it myself!”

 

Elsewhere in town on that launch day, however, some hearts were set racing in an entirely different way.

 

The best-kept secret of the day was the arrival of a Sea Harrier jump jet to join in the celebrations with a ten-minute demonstration of low-flying over the harbour, followed by its trade-mark rapid ascent.

 

Mrs Ruth Dunstan, a no-nonsense local councillor and figurehead of the feisty Falmouth Action Group, complained to local MP David Mudd about the aircraft’s “bizarre and unwarranted intrusion.”

 

She told Moira: “The visitation was entirely unexpected.  The sudden and deafening noise was alarming even to those with strong nerves and would certainly have been devastating to the infirm, the elderly and domestic animals.

 

“From a business point of view, telephone and other conversations were drowned out.

 

“And from a personal point of view, why should those of us resident here not quietly enjoy our homes and surroundings without such cavalier treatment?”

 

There were also reports of people out walking in the Greenbank area who thought it was an emergency, with the jet about to pitch into the sea.

 

Mr Mudd confirmed that he had raised the matter with the Ministry of Defence.

 

As for what PdS made of it all, I was his Cornwall PR man at the time and am pretty confident, looking back, that this was one occasion when he chose not to go public with his feelings . . . 

 

ART SPOT

And this Scottish highland scene (acrylic, 24 x 15ins) is my other recently completed art project, from the cover of a Scotch whisky recipes booklet, would you believe! Teacher:  Jeanni Grant-Nelson

  

IN PASSING . . .

A Royal Navy spokesman said: “All Royal Navy and Royal Marine candidates are required to successfully pass the swim test . . . ” – news item

 

Okay, c’mon then, someone tell me, please, how a candidate could UNsuccessfully pass the test!

  

50 YEARS ON, I ‘HEAR’ FROM MY DAD AGAIN

Hands up all those of you who still miss your Mum and Dad, perhaps long gone, and would love to be having a chat with them again . . . 

Well, imagine my great pleasure when, in a well overdue de-clutter the other day, I came across a bagful of letters written to me by my old man, Donald Truscott RIP, when I was exiled in Liverpool in 1972-75.

 

Hadn’t seen them for decades. And I do mean bagful.  Every single Friday, give or take, in his Falmouth home, he would type out those letters, anything from 200 to 600 words long. 

 

I’m still wading through them – every one a delight - and I calculate the collection must come to something like 200-odd.

 

I was in my early 20s and Dad in his mid-50s. As well as amusing generation-spanning observations on life, the correspondence often included some gems of fatherly advice which, looking back now, I wish I could have taken more notice of then.

 

How about this, for instance:-- 

 

“Try not to be too impatient with people who, by virtue of age, cannot match your outlook or quickness of perception.

 

“You will be amazed how quickly the next 30 years will pass, when you will be approaching the time when youngsters tend to be a bit off-hand with you.”

 

Well, the Old Boy was dead right there, wasn’t he!

 

In another letter, he asked: “Do you remember writing to Kenneth Wolstenholme with suggestions for improving his commentating?”

 

No, I don’t remember that now, but I guess it’s just the sort of daft thing I might have done at the time (which would have been when I was still at the Falmouth Packet, first time round, barely into my 20s).

 

That’s right . . . Kenneth Wolstenholme, who still ranks today as one of our greatest-ever football commentators - not least with his famous World Cup Final line “some people think it’s all over; it is now” – being advised by a cocky young upstart on a tiny local weekly newspaper!     

 

Ah well, we always did believe we could change the world when we were young, didn’t we!