Jayne Hamilton – 1990
So, let’s set the scene: having queued up overnight in the car park listening to Glad All Over on repeat, I was, to say the least, very excited for our first-ever [Cup Final] appearance at Wembley (I remember seeing the stadium's twin towers from the train as we returned triumphantly from Villa Park).
I went with my two brothers, Stuart and Rod, and several other family members. We drove to Wembley as we had car parking in the concrete factory opposite the stadium. We got there nice and early, the sun was shining, and we were expectant, so went for a beer or two.
This is when the trouble started. I had put my Cup Final ticket in my back right pocket of my jeans (where I always put my tickets). After a few pints, I thought I’d check my ticket – it was gone!
It might have been a combination of the sun and the beer, but I immediately burst into floods of tears, swearing at my brothers and getting myself into a right state! I found a very understanding policeman who let me cry all over his crisp, white shirt (which then had mascara and red & blue smudges on it!). He suggested we walk to the Wembley Box Office to see if we could get a replacement ticket.
He was very calm as we walked away and casually asked if I’d checked all my pockets – to which I replied in between sobs, that I had not. To my utter embarrassment, the ticket was in my back left pocket – for some unknown reason I’d moved it and not thought to check any other pockets!
Needless to say, to this day, I am not trusted with tickets – even when my son was much younger, he was given the responsibility of looking after any Palace tickets! I am reminded on this incident at every family get-together. I have also been told that I am not to hold my phone on Saturday in case I “loose” that!
Up the Palace!
The Barnard Boys – Numerous
