When the announcement was made that London had won the Olympic bid, I just knew the Hammers would move into the new Stadium, it was despite all the subsequent shenanigans, as they say ‘written in the stars’.
For me this relocation is perfect.
Living in Highbury and working in Hackney, the journey to Upton Park and the Boleyn Ground was a pain and if driving normally meant being jammed up at Wanstead Flats with my head banging the steering wheel, (especially profound during Allardyce’s reign).
I secured my season ticket in the early months of 2015 and reasoned that virtually all the Hammers fans would make their way via Stratford and the Westfield centre.
So I devised my cunning plan, that naturally assumed I would be the only one in the know of a back-door route to the stadium via the Hackney Hipsters capital of Hackney Wick.
This was perfect for other reasons aside from travelling. I could also now look forward to…. eating tasty food.
Hackney Wick is an area I know well and as I work in the food and events industry I could look to a familiar and better choice of sustenance on match days as well as an easier route to the game… hey I even sport a beard these days, so I can slot in unnoticed.
The area is a culinary and beer delight with places like Forman’s and its reputation as the oldest smoked fish establishment in the world and with an award winning restaurant attached, the Crate Brewery with it’s in-house brewed craft beers and stone-baked pizzas that can be consumed on a rowing boat, elsewhere the German Deli bring big sausages cool dogs as opposed to hot dogs and German beers for those wonderful European nights we are surely destined to experience come the winter months.
People I know including Olympian Johnny Herbert and his brother Leon at Crea8 in the old Hackney baths could expect a visit from me. They have a bar and eaterie too.
Then there is The Counter Café a canal side venue for brunches, salads and tasty pies with real meat and proper Veggie options where you can float on the river on a pontoon (Excessive beer drinking not advised) with its views of the Olympic stadium… our new home!
For great breakfasts and brunches, there is The Hackney Pearl with yummy scrambled eggs and divine sourdough rye toast.
Oh wow the list is endless.
All this mouth-watering food is light years away from Ken’s Cafe where I once met WTID founder Iain Dale and sat there eating just a Kit-Kat for fear of revealing my food snobbery and even further light years (If that were possible) from the greasy chips and dodgy hot dogs from the trailers and vans that polluted my tummy and taste bud thoughts on match days along Green Street. We are in the big league in more ways than we imagined.
I had figured that none of this new culinary delight and alternative route to the Olympic stadium would surely be on the radar of the largely exiled East Londoners who now reside in the counties of Essex and Kent and who would ‘obviously’ zip in via Stratford International Station.
So the season beckons and match day finally arrives for the opening Premier League game against the seaside team of AFC Bournemouth and it’s on a Sunday… perfect.
I initially rationalised that my workplace which is in Clapton and close to the river Lea meant I could easily drive to work, dump the car and jump on my single speed urban pushbike and enjoy a scenic route into the stadium. But for now largely influenced by my bike being stolen (grrrr), I decide to simply drive into Hackney Wick, park up, walk across the river bridge and make my short way to the stadium… simples.
My cunning plan just like Black Adders Baldrick’s was naturally flawed, those dastardly exiled West Ham fans had got in before me and discovered the lack of parking restrictions and the ease of access to the stadium which was too tempting to ignore. So parking on the day for me was now a challenge, but I found the last spot on a bend in Rothbury Road that only I would be churlish enough to consider…. yet worse was to come.
There at the Crate Brewery and the German Deli were claret and blue shirts… everywhere.
On one side we had bewildered bearded ‘Hackney Hipsters’ the new media crew who some years back had arrived in town via Yorkshire/Staffordshire/Lancs/Berlin/Utrecht and brought with them…. err well actually forgot to bring with them razors. Here at their regular watering holes, they were faced with a sea of equally bewildered claret and blue football shirts singing bizarre gruff songs about blowing bubbles and something about ‘Irons! Irons!’ that induced a few raised hairy eyebrows amongst the metropolitan hipsters. I was going to struggle for a seat and have to queue… darn.
So then it dawned on me, we now have the early seedlings of a genetic mutation of what will become to known as…. the Hackney Hamsters.
Complete with claret beards and blue eyes singing ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’ nouveau-indie style with cranking guitar and funky electro synths, whilst munching foraged mushroom drenched with fresh garlic, layered with sea-salt blighted samphire relish in organic sourdough rye bread, all whilst supping on a Climpson’s and Sons flat white coffee or swigging Kernel Wild Beer….
Yep… the Hamsters have landed…
Welcome to the new football season!
COYI….
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