Miss Ethel remembered The Rocks of High Street where many generations spent idyllic days of youth.  Even in your editor’s time, when inter-estate soccer leagues were first established, we played many of our games there.  I’ll never forget our first ever game up High Street way.

Meadow Rangers were 2-0 up against our bitter High Street rivals and confident we could hold them to a draw in their home leg.  They for their part were suspiciously ebullient as though they had a trick up their sleeve.  As already indicated, due to the efforts of our parents the Resi was transformed into a rush-less, fairly even surfaced playing field.  By way of contrast, The Rocks were no less than their name implied, an undulating stony surface interspersed with strategically-placed sharp-edged rocky outcrops.  I had failed to impress the selectors in the season to date and I was relegated from my position of left-half to goals [next step, behind the goal!].  By common consent, the goals could be stopped by any gauche individual capable of getting in the way.  (Pat Jennings was the only but very obvious exception).  That was my speciality.