The Diary

13 March 2004: Taking A Choo-Choo to Crewe

Coo, what a shock when I awoke this morning; evidence in abundance God really does have a serious cocaine habit, and needs to talk to someone about it pretty quickly. No wonder Moses couldn?t find those tablets of stone at first; the man with the big white beard and the loud voice simply rolled them up and used them to snort the stuff when the prophet wasn?t looking. Seriously, though, I reckon about three or four inches of the ?orrible white stuff fell last night, actually, an occurrence, what with global warming and everything, is becoming something of a rarity around these here parts. I really can?t remember the last time we had snow in that quantity at this time of year ? and what?s more, I don?t want to, either. It belongs on Christmas cards and that?s where it ought to stay.

Still, at the time of writing, it?s melting fast out there, and the mist is descending instead, a sign, hopefully, that temperatures will rise to a much more pleasant level as the weekend progresses. Our game tomorrow? No worries there, I think; had the stuff really stuck then frozen overnight, I might have expressed some anxiety, but as it?s quite clear that won?t happen, I think I can safely say, ?Game On? as far as our meeting with the gricers (see below) is concerned.

Talking of which, Crewe is perhaps best known for its railway links, being a major hub of the British rail system these days. The town itself gets its name from a member of the local aristocracy, Sir Thomas Crewe of Crewe Hall (see below). The real history of the place, though, begins around the time of the Domesday Book, which was compiled not long after the Norman Conquest. Crewe, then called Coppenhall, was taken over by a bloke called William Mallbank, baron of Nantwich, who was tenant-in-chief for many lordships in the county of Cheshire. Mallbank was a younger son of the Brecy family from Brecy, near Caen in Normandy, so it could be argued there?s a very strong Gallic connection attached to the place. Oooh la la, and pass the garlic s?il vous plait, mon ami!

Around that time, the knight's fees of Crewe were held by Richard de Vernon, another head-honcho in Cheshire, who held many other knight's fees as well as Crewe's. Knight's fees? The dues paid to the overlord on the event of a vassal's (subordinate of humble origin) death, to be paid by the deceased vassal's heir. I suppose you could say the whole thing ran on the back of some pretty crippling death duties, and seemed to be quite a nice little earner for someone in those days. Substitute Gordon Brown for de Vernon, and you?ve got the general idea.

Crewe Hall itself stands a few miles from the town of Crewe. The earliest record of the site dates from 1170. Talk to The Fart nicely, and he?ll tell you all about it. The place became Crewe Hall when Sir Ranulph Crewe bought the mansion in 1608, demolished the decayed building in 1615, then took 21 years to rebuild it. Blimey, sounds just like the blokes who did our extension a few years back. In 1837 it was restored and (yes!) an extension added. In 1922, the Crewe family left the Hall, now a considerable property boasting 190 rooms and a 312-acre walled garden. The then current Lord Crewe tried for many years to sell the Hall, finally passing it on to the Duchy of Lancaster (owned by the crown). The family was prominent in politics for many years, representing the local area in parliament.

According to a member of the family, one of the later Lords Crewe had one weak spot. The stately pile itself. You could kick his dog, upset his cat, and get away with it, but never, never damage any part of his wretched Hall! Not if you knew what was good for you, that is. A canon (a Church Of England high-up), who tripped up in his drawing room, was never allowed in the house again. Even when his brother and sisters visited Crewe Hall, that poor sod of an ecclesiastical gentleman still had to remain outside. When an elderly lady from Devonshire later slipped and fell down an entire flight of stairs at the Hall, her brown-nosing husband - perhaps remembering the affair of the canon - hurried forward while his aged wife was still lying stunned and said, 'Oh, Lord Crewe, I am so sorry! I do hope my wife hasn't injured your beautiful staircase.? I suspect Lord Crewe and Basil Fawlty would have got on a treat.

The Hall was occupied by the War Department during the Second World War, housing foreign troops from Australia and America - and was later used as a prisoner of war camp for over 2,000 German Officers. The dreaded Hun in the place? Blimey, the old aristocrat must have spun in his grave. After the war was over, Crewe Hall was leased to Calmic, a medical company, who were subsequently taken over by the Wellcome Foundation. Wellcome left the site in 1994 and it was left empty until 1998. I haven?t a clue who owns the place now ? unless you can enlighten me further, of course.

Crewe was only a small agricultural hamlet until the 1830s. Then in 1837 the Grand Junction Railway Company laid a line passing close by Crewe Hall. The Company decided to move their manufacturing works three years later, and chose Crewe as their new base. Because of this, Crewe was subsequently created as a major railway junction in Britain linking together the triangle of Manchester, Liverpool and Birmingham. The music-hall comedy song ?Oh, Mr. Porter!? sums up the importance of the station in those days very well. The development of those railway connections had the happy result of drawing industrial manufacturers to the town, placing Crewe at the forefront of industrial developments. Crewe Railway Works, opened in 1843, was famous for the quality of its steam locomotives. In 1877 the Railway Company finished Queen's Park, one of the best Victorian parks in Britain ? and I believe it?s still there to this day.

The importance of the railway to Crewe led to a century-long domination of all aspects of the town by the Railway Company, which built over 200 houses for its employees and controlled everything in the town until the Crewe Corporation Act of 1938. Although only a shadow of former glories these days, a pre-match toddle onto the station platforms will reveal train-spotters (?gricers? is the proper term for ?em!) in abundance. It?s their Mecca, and Wembley Stadium combined, I kid you not. I do happen to know a couple of Baggies who have contracted this awful disease, but me being the nice little fanzine editor I am, I won?t ?out? them.

Crewe was also home to a plant which was one of the first to use the revolutionary Bessemer process for manufacturing steel. What was it? Named after Sir Henry Bessemer who patented the process in 1856, this meant that steel could be mass-produced quickly and easily in a reliable fashion. Basically, what you did was chuck all your molten iron in at the top of the furnace, the bottom of which had lots of little perforations, a bit like a Tetley tea-bag. You then blasted lots of air through those, and the result was all the impurities in the iron turned into oxides, which either settled to the bottom as slag, or went into thin air as gas. The special composition of the furnace lining helped a little as well. Once the iron had been left to stew a while, you then added carbon and other substances to it to make the sort of steel you wanted, and once you?d done that, you then tapped it off from above the bottom slag layer, ready for the next lot to go in. A bit like skimming cream off from milk, if you like, but using a bloody big (and very hot!), cream-jug. This new process led to a large volume of inexpensive steel being produced which revolutionised building construction and allowed iron to be replaced by stuff made via the new steel process, including, significantly enough, railway rails.

Though Bessemer's achievements were reproduced by others, and later superseded by more efficient methods, for the 19th Century, that was state?of-the-art technology, that was. The town?s other claim to fame? It?s the former home of what?s arguably the world?s best and most well-known set of wheels, the Rolls-Royce. The company Rolls Royce Limited was the result of the merging of two businesses: Royce Limited owned by Sir Henry Royce, and C.S. Rolls and Company, organised and run by Charles Stuart Rolls. The famous little angel thingy on the bonnet was stuck on after one of the partners snuffed it just before World War One, in loving memory. In 1938, 32 years after the merger, Rolls Royce built its factory in Crewe, where it chucked out Rollers by the thousand - until comparatively recently, of course. Today, developments by the Borough Council such as the Crewe Gates Industrial Estate and Crewe Business Park (where most Baggie park pre-match!) have encouraged more businesses and industries to move into the town.

Crewe's main industries are now engineering and agriculture. Rolls Royce still operate in the town to a lesser degree but are still its largest employer. Mornflake Oats, which dates back to the 17th Century, has the largest oat mill in Europe there. Hubby also tells me Bentley are also now big in Crewe; apparently, 25 workers are taken on there every week. Investment in the town is also growing, both from national sources and international businesses. U.S. and Japanese companies are adding to the local economy, and many high technology companies have recently moved to Crewe. There?s also agricultural and engineering stuff going on up there; not surprising as you don?t have far to go to find that good old country air billowing into your lungs. The town also stands on the edge of what?s known as The Cheshire Plain, which means that in winter, very often, an almighty gale blows in from The Wirral, and there?s sod all in the way of high ground to stop it. The locals call that ?The Crewe Wind?; if we?re very lucky, it won?t happen tomorrow.

Famous Crewe folkies? The aforementioned eccentric Lord Crewe apart, I can?t find that many, but casting my net further afield does reveal Lewis Carroll, he of ?Alice? fame, was born quite close by. Knowing this goes a good deal towards explaining how and why the famous Cheshire Cat came into those books of his. Or was it the result of something he ate./drank/ smoked? All that stuff about ingesting potions saying ?DRINK ME?, and growing progressively larger, then smaller, sounds well-dodgy to me.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

Lucky the Drug Squad wasn?t around then? Naw, sounds a bit more like the standard conversation you get from fellow-sufferers when going to watch our favourite football club those days! Seriously, though, Charles Dodgson (his real name), also quite a respected academic, was a Big Noise at Oxford University, and wrote several quite respectable books on mathematics, though what his fellow egg-heads made of all that ?Alice? stuff, I don?t know. Oh, and he was a bit of a photographer, as well; the art being very much in its infancy in those days, this was quite a novelty. Trouble was, his favourite subject was ? erm ? little girls. Also living in the area (but born in London) was early 19th century writer Mrs. Gaskell, she of ?Cranford?, and ?Wives And Daughters?. Last but not least? Childrens? fantasy writer Alan Garner, who wrote ?The Owl Service?, a yarn some of you might be familiar with from schooldays.

Returning to things Nationwide once more, that West Ham 5-0 win over distinctly moribund Wimbledon the other night certainly had the effect of catapulting them straight into third place, but they?ll still have to go some to catch us, despite what Pardew?s been saying in the national press these past few days. That?s my mindset at the moment, and I?m sticking to it like glue ? we?re not likely to blow it in similar fashion to the Dingles, are we? Er ? ARE WE?????? In the days and weeks to come, keep away from me before games, because one thing I shall be doing is seeking bags of reassurance on that score from my Baggie-loving peers. Come to think about it, I should be asking Big Dave to give me another of his stirring motivational talks, perhaps?

More interestingly, though, on Wednesday evening, Sunderland took on Preston at The Stadium Of Light; had they won that one, it could have started the old wobblies off in full-flow, as they currently have oodles of games in hand on us. Mercifully, the outcome was a draw, 3-3, to be precise, which suited us no end, as it also knackered the Lancashire club?s faint hopes of elbowing their way back into contention. Mind you, Sunderland (who also had a bloke sent off) must have been as mad as hell when North End potted the equaliser with about five minutes to go. Still, this is the sort of thing that happens when you have a really good Cup-run and players get knackered ? the two activities simply don?t mix. I believe they?ve got an extra midweek game to play catch-up with around the same time next week, and in the meantime, there?s the small matter of this Saturday?s to contend with as well. However the season finishes, promotion-wise, even with the best will in the world, I really can?t see Sunderland being in the final ?automatic? shake-up.

Now the semi-final draw has guaranteed one Nationwide representative in the final ? when I heard it, my faith in human nature in general and the FA in particular was instantly restored! ? I suspect that come the Great Day, it will be the Wearsiders that get to make the long walk out of the Millennium Stadium?s tunnel, and if it does pan out that way, my best wishes will naturally go with them. Their supporters really are the tops, and many are the delightful and knowledgable pre-match conversations I?ve had with them prior to games, both here, and back at their place. As we?re not in a position to do it ourselves this time round, if any bunch of supporters deserve their day in the sun, it?s got to be theirs.

Our record against The Railwaymen? As far as our games against them are concerned, we?ve won two, drawn two, and lost one, the most memorable of which was, for me, the time a very young Lee Hughes emulated the closing scenes from ?When Saturday Comes?, by coming on as sub, scoring two late doors, which meant a rapid switch from losing those precious points, to snatching a stonking away win in very dramatic fashion. You really couldn?t make it up, and I?m willing to bet no-one present that baking-hot Saturday afternoon will ever forget it, either.

Looking at the Crewe website, it looks as though there will be wholesale changes to their line-up tomorrow, mainly due to a combination of injuries and suspensions. As far as we?re concerned, if we go 3-5-2 (likely, given our leader?s reticence to push the attacking boat out when playing sides like that), we?ll have pretty much all the usual suspects present and correct, plus hopefully an extended run for Jay Chambo, and with a delightful array of no less than six strikers to choose from! Presumably, it being his old club and all that, he?ll go for Hulse, partnered by The Horse, with a rejuvenated Lee Hughes on the bench. I do worry about Houlty, though, as he?s still not properly fit, to my mind ? is this wise?

We?ve also had to say ?arrivaderci? to another of our finest; Gilly, bless his cotton socks, has gone out on loan to Rotherham, and the deal?s for a month, initially. Oh, and moving slightly away from the Albion beat, I hear tonight that our old friend Pesch has shifted from Sheffield United to Derby, on loan at the moment, but with the possible chance of it being made permanent. Well, if anyone can poach goals in sufficient quantities to get The Rams our of the slaughterhouse, then the GLS (work it our for yourselves!) will be yer man to do it.

Siggy? I really do feel so sorry for him. When he did his knee versus the Seals the other night, I suspected then the injury might not be a straightforward one, and now it?s been confirmed. The good news is, it wasn?t the same knackered knee that caused his absence from the side earlier in the season. The bad news? It?s another cruciate injury, seemingly, and that means the lad will be on the sidelines for yet another six months or so. When I saw him hobble off with pain written all over his face, as I?d thought Siggy?s contract expired come the summer, I not unreasonably assumed that was that as far as his Albion career was concerned ? but apparently not. It now seems our original assumption was all wrong; the official site are now saying our little bit of Icelandic geothermal energy actually signed a one year extension to his contract back in September 2003, taking him up to June 2005. So he still has a chance to come back from the Land Of The Living Dead, poor sod.

Interesting to learn the other day that Albion were advertising an extensive range of images and ring-tones for mobile phone owners. Naturally, curiosity overwhelmed me, so I dialled up the appropriate page in their website, and had a shufti. First off, I noted The Liquidator tune was up for grabs. This would be the same Harry J. And The All-Stars ditty recently banned from The Hawthorns because of all the naughty chanting associated with the tune every time we played it, pre-match, would it? Also on offer, should any of us want it, were images of Bob scoring that second versus Palace two seasons ago. The same Bob Taylor, mark you, who left the club under somewhat acrimonious circumstances just twelve months later? Oh dear. Hypocrisy ? what an awful stink it leaves behind. And finally?.One. Iron Works Gazette head-honcho Tony Fowles got in touch with me again recently commenting on how pathetic Wimbledon?s away support was at Upton Park last Tuesday night. On his return from the game (once he?d stopped rolling around the floor in fits of helpless laughter, that is), he mailed me to say a grand total of 80 Wombles actually made it to their away end; unsurprisingly, when he saw it, Tony couldn?t quite believe it. Sorry, Tone, but if you think that?s bad, then you should have been at our place the night we played them. Only 25 of theirs could be arsed to make the journey ? yep, that?s right, TWENTY FIVE, and just imagine that in our enormous away end! ? and of that lot, one was really a London-based Baggie who was unable to get a ticket for our end beforehand!

Two. Many thanks to John Stokes for sending us one of the most hilarious pieces of absolutely genuine ?Only A Dingle? stuff I?ve seen in a long time. The sad bit is, because my other half laid claim to it for the fanzine first, I can?t let you in on the act. Sorry, but you?ll have to wait until the last issue of the season, but until then, suffice it to say I?m still chortling!

 - Glynis Wright

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