What better way to open the season than to travel 200 miles in West Country holiday traffic to watch Wolves away?  Eh?   Eh?

Well, Richard and Jane and Mick and Janet decided to make a weekend of it and travelled down on Friday night, avoiding the holiday traffic.  This was unlike various Wolves directors, driven by Rachael Yoho Flint, who failed to realise that traffic on the Saturday would be bad and ended up well late for the kick-off.  Good job they weren’t driving the team coach.

Our plans were almost scuppered by Richard’s failure to book any accommodation.  We wanted to stay in the South Hams area, a vastly underrated part of the country that boasts a wonderful coastline, stretching from south of Brixham to east of Plymouth.  Several nights spent ringing just about every guest house in the area proved fruitless until I finally chanced upon the Ring O’Bells in Kingsbridge.  Worryingly, and unlike everywhere else, they had all rooms available.  Desperate, I booked it.  I then googled the pub and found an entry from someone reviewing the restaurant and basically saying it was awful and to avoid it.  The omens were not good.

We arrived at 11 p.m. and the signs were not promising.  We were greeted by a young lad, a sort of cross between Uriah Heep and Igor.  “Yeth, can I help you”?  There were two clients in the bar and a ginger cat.  We were shown to our rooms in an extension at the back of the pub, a bit like a two-storey portakabin.  Having dropped our bags in the rooms, Richard and I made a swift return to the bar for a nightcap only to find that Uriah had closed up!  Oh, for the avoidance of doubt, “bags” means “luggage”.

When we went down to breakfast in the morning, there was a sign saying that no more guests could be accommodated due to a bereavement in the family (I thought the people in room 3 were quiet).  Breakfast was amazing.  “Full Breakfatht?” Uriah had asked.  He proceeded to cook and serve up the biggest “Full English” I have ever seen: 3 rashers of bacon (albeit not cooked to the right degree of crispness on the Nuttall Scale), 2 eggs, 2 sausages, tomato, a mound of mushrooms and a veritable mountain of sauté potatoes.  It had become apparent that Uriah was running the place single-handed and I do him an injustice because he was actually very polite and was working hard.

Having spent an enjoyable hour at the magical Bigbury-on-Sea and Burgh Island, we set off to the game.  It was nip and tuck whether we got there on time.  Richard blamed the navigator (me), refusing to accept that it was his fault that he headed off towards Exeter when I had told him to follow Liskeard.

Richard had come up trumps with Directors Box tickets in the old Main Stand.  Home Park is attractively located in a park and looks impressive as you approach it.  Three sides are new, with corners filled in and the roof at the same height all around.  The Main Stand is a traditional old stand.  It was a pleasant and generally friendly place. 

Apparently, they don’t know the origin of the “Argyle” part of the name but, as the original directors met in a nearby Argyle pub, it seems obvious to me.  It seems that there are claims that the club was named after a nearby base of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders but the word is spelt differently and there are no links with the regiment, so how does that work?  Sounds like a John Manning sort of spurious argument to me. The club might also claim to have endured the most unlucky runs of any club, finishing runner up in the old Third Division South for six successive seasons when only one team went up. 

You can probably tell there wasn’t much to say about the match.  Wolves got their usual draw.   Plymouth are a compact and workmanlike team with a good shape and what appeared to be a good team spirit.  I think they might do well if they can add a decent forward.  I was impressed with Barry Hayles, ex-Millwall  journeyman, who troubled Wolves all afternoon with clever runs and sheer hard graft.  The best player though was midfielder David Norris, one of those precious box-to-box midfielders that are so hard to find and that every successful team seems to have and unsuccessful ones don’t.   He was deservedly man of the match.  Wolves looked what they are, a newly put together team lacking in inspiration and leadership.  They fought hard and were well organised, but the play was disjointed.  In Matt Murray, they look to have a class keeper; Martin O’Neill please take note.

There were very few chances in the game.  Plymouth took the lead in a goalmouth scramble, the goal eventually being awarded to Hayles.  Wolves equalised with their only chance of note early in the second half, Kevin O’Connor’s shot taking a deflection – how can I describe it?  I know!  Wicked.

That’s about it.  We spent the evening in Salcombe, another lovely spot set around the estuary of the River something-or-other.

On Sunday morning, we were greeted by the actual owner; poor Uriah having overslept.  Richard made the mistake of mentioning that Uriah’s breakfast had been “too much” so could we just have bacon and eggs?  “Yes, Chris does tend to overdo it,” said the owner.  The inevitable “sublime to ridiculous” breakfast of one rasher and one egg was served.

We walked around Noss Mayo, possibly the real jewel of this section of coast.  One of the saddest things about the South Hams is that the majority of holidaymakers either stop at Torbay, or pass by en route to Cornwall.  Take my advice, spend a week in this area some time. 

Noss Mayo is also on an estuary: the River Yealm.  It is in an idyllic setting.  We walked idly along the river banks for a couple of hours.  At one point, we stopped by a little jetty and I spotted a tenner floating in a rockpool.  Having fought off Richard for two hours to reach it, I pocketed it.  It bought the first round at the fabulous Ship Inn and the day was topped off by a great lunch there, swilled down by beautifully kept local ales.  The pub is worth the detour for this place alone.

And so, we returned wearily home.  A great weekend; great location; great company (sic!).

Total Ground Number: 53
Current League Ground Number: 46