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stewards who were only letting those with tickets through and there was one little problem – I didn’t have a ticket. I wasn’t worried though as I thought I’d have a decent chance of getting hold of one and if the worst came to the worst I could hang around outside and soak up a few vibes. In such situations you’ve got to be all ears and I tagged along after a group of young lads who mentioned the word ‘tickets’ several times and had gleaned from a cop where the nearest boozer was.
The Bedfordshire Yeoman was busy with lots of fans from both sides mingling in a friendly manner. I stood outside in the sunshine and slurped a pint of Kronenbourg as the songs rang out and friendly vehicles tooted by. I headed back to the ground and noticed on the way several folks buying tickets with £30 being mentioned. I got back to the barrier about 12.50 and there weren’t many people around. I didn’t ask anyone about tickets but I knew from experience that those selling them get itchy at such times. Sure enough a guy approached me and asked how much I wanted to pay. I said, “Thirty quid.” He said, “Fifty.” I shook my head and he went away with a face on him. Another guy behind him asked me the same thing and he too went away but almost immediately turned back and we agreed on thirty.
He didn’t produce a ticket and just asked me to follow him so as we walked down a long alley at the side of the ground I wondered what was going on and kept an eye out in case he and his mates were going to jump me. When we
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