Hello from Northumberland

A warm welcome from the most northerly town in England - Berwick-upon-Tweed. Allow me to set the scene. The nearest professional football club to my apartment on Ayr Street is Hearts, all of fifty-five miles away. My closest English/Welsh outfit is Newcastle United, a good two hour drive from here. Everybody in this god-forsaken town supports either Rangers, Celtic, or M*nch*st*r *n*t*d. I was mistaken for a Traffordite only the other day, merely for wearing a Wrexham shirt. The region boasts the aptly named "North Northumberland Heritage Coast" (ooh, excited?), ridiculously fallic town ramparts, and a large field where a battle was once fought in 1333. There are two things to be said for the town though, firstly the excellent (and even award winning) butchers shop in which I am employed, and the beautiful countryside, which is surpassed only by the homely contours of the Clwydian range. On the whole however, for a twenty-two year old Wrexham-supporting Belfastian, things are not a happy state of affairs.

There is no easy way to get to Wrexham by train. You either go via Carlisle or you go via York. Get your atlases out - you'll see my dilemma. Oh, and while I'm at it - would someone like to tell me where the bloody hell Wrexham Central came from, because the last time my train pulled in there it was an unhealthy looking slab of concrete with weeds growing out of it. The butcher likes to make me work on a Saturday (a policy which I find totally unjust) and my three holiday times a year are as follows: Christmas - dedicated to the bottle, Easter - the only time I ever get to see the Reds, and Summer - always late July, never, ever, at the start of the new season. God, it drives me mad. Last season I attended the least amount of Wrexham matches ever in a season: one. An edgy one-nil victory over Bristol Rovers at the Racecourse. Seems I didn't miss all that much last year though. I was largely disappointed with what I saw, that is when I could be bothered to stay up until 2am to watch Nationwide Round-up.
Still, it could be all change next year. At time of writing the season has not begun, at time of your reading, we're probably undefeated, top of the league, and Flynnie's sitting back and laughing increduously at my little shallow views. Oh, and we might have bought a proven goalscorer taller than 5'10''. Ah, well, we can dream. I might win the Lottery and be able to set up my own butchers shop closer to home. Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. Perhaps the rumours about the brewery might not be true after all. But whatever happens, even from my vantage point in Berwick-upon-Tweed, I'll be with you all the way lads. Wrecsam am byth.  RP

Are you a Wrexham fan 'in exile'?  If you'd like to tell your story, please send it to Red Passion.