Crystal Palace. Selhurst Park Fine Art Print

My Dad missed much of his education due to World War II. He was evacuated to Torquay where he had a wonderful time sailing and swimming. He was therefore very keen that I should get a good schooling. Due to a probable ‘markers error’, I got an ‘A’ grade in my 11+ and was allocated a place at a local school with a dodgy reputation. I was delighted – Dad wasn’t. He sent me to a private boy’s school in South London for five years. I hated every one of them. The school decided that I wasn’t ‘Oxbridge’ material and recommended that I leave. I then went to Coopers in Chislehurst for my sixth-form studies. It was fantastic. Girls, football and ten very good pubs all within a mile radius. One of the Coopers’ lads had a wealthy dad, whose company owned a corporate box at Selhurst Park, the home of Crystal Palace. A group of us were often invited to attend a home game. The Entertainment Suite was really just a box with a door at the back and a glazed front. The base of the glass front was about head level of the supporters on the other side of the stand. Before the game, and at half time, the outside supporters would turn around and’ leer’ at us like you were a goldfish in a bowl. Sometimes, they produced little signs they’d made with Snob’ or ‘Wanker’ written on them. On one occasion, a chap sent the whole first half on his mates’ shoulders wearing no trousers or underpants. He had ‘bollocks’ written in lipstick across his buttocks. The football was excellent though. Palace were a good side, with players like Vince Hilaire, Clive Allen and Paul Barron. One thing I’ll always remember was that the heavy roller, used to flatten the pitch after games, had a VW Beetle body shell welded on top and painted in blue and red. Class.