Bath City was one of the away fixtures I was particularly looking forward to at the start of the season, as one of the few town/city centres in the division I had not yet visited. In our dull 0-0 draw there in the 2009/2010 season when they pipped us to promotion in the play-offs I had taken the coach there. And actually made a huge tit out of myself that day, which while not uncommon in my case, was pretty severe on that last outing. I won't divulge in public but just give me a shout if you need reminding.
I can't say I was too enthused when my Undertaker theme tune alarm started belting out at 6AM, a rather criminal time to be waking up in the morning if you haven't got work/school/important stuff. This was made worse by a pretty terrible sleep; waking up at half 2 in the morning to release a premature curry poo after being treated to an early birthday meal by my father the night before. It wasn't pleasant and it took me a good hour and a half to find sleepdom again thanks to an uncomfortable heat and my suffering of tinnitus, a horrible ear condition which can sometimes affect my sleep. If you don't know what is then wikipedia it or something you ignorant fuckwits.
It only took a nice warm shower to get rid of those early morning blues though and I went downstairs to get myself fully prepared for the day ahead. And I literally was really well prepared for once - fully charged electric cig ready for the day, four nicely chilled beverages and a fully researched map detailing where all the boozers within the city centre and nearby Twerton Park were. Mainly thanks to my correspondants from Barrow and Maidenhead giving me a whole list of reccomendations - nearly 15 different ones between them. Of course we were not going to try them all but with a planned 11AM arrival we would have plenty of time for a few snifters.
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| Interesting selection for the day ahead. That Scrabble board was obviously host to another emphatic Callum Snell victory the night before because that is how I roll. |
I wasn't planning on eating any breakfast or food at all until we'd at least got into Bath but that all changed before our train had even departed Priory thanks to the ineptitude of Doddy and Jared. Dodd purchased a £3 southern chicken wrap from the spar garage and was then horrified to discover it contained cheddar, as he is one of those anti-cheese weirdos and one of the most people who are stupid enough to not check a label of something before buying it. Then Jared decided after one bite that he didn't like his chicken and bacon sandwich from there, which I then happily obliged and hoovered up. It was a bit bland but there was nothing wrong with it as he had claimed.
T'was a pretty quiet journey into Scumdon but I did crack open onto my fursty furret despite pleas from my Dad before hand to actually pace myself for once. Can't say it went down too pleasantly.
We only had 39 minutes to cross over to Paddington from St Pancras which normally would be plenty of time for only 6 stops away on the hammersmith. But with me and Neil needing to purchase tickets it would have been a bit of a tight squeeze. Thankfully Neil knew the train guard and he managed to sort us out a train tube ticket on the train so we wouldn't have to panic about that. And it got me over excited because I think it was the first time in history where I had actually possessed my own train ticket.
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| To most people this would mean fuck all. But to me this is a key unforgettable milestone in my exciting life. |
There wasn't quite enough time to go for a pint at one of the indoor station pubs but we were the first people to step foot onto our Great Western train, which are certainly far better and far more comfortable than Virgin ones IMO. In hindsight we should have walked further down the train rather than the first non first class carriage - our part was far busier after stopping at stations.
But it was a decent, stress free journey and luckily no fucker attempted to sit next to me in the two seater I was in. I spent a good chunk of the journey checking out the tits of some fine German piece sitting in front of me, as was Neil the sly old dog in the seat opposite to her. We exchanged plenty of those knowing 'nice rack' glances at each other whenever a tidy piece of crumpet walked down the train.
As you can see from my picture above I purchased a bottle of cider for the journey - a kingstone press which was only £1.29 for a 660ml bottle. Even though I usually despise cider I thought I'd expand my horizons a bit particularly as we were visiting the great west. So I cracked it open for my first drink of the journey and I must say, Cider is.................. indeed fucking awful and a good reminder why I drink it. It tastes foul, it gives you a headache while you're drinking it and its just god damn awful. No wonder why its a drink for the homeless, women and children.
I even politely allowed Neil to finish it off for me - which speaks volumes as I never leave drinks behind.
I am still prone to the very occasional rekordelig/kopperberg/brother's but them fruit ciders are not real alcoholic drinks are they? They just taste like juice. Proper cider just tastes of acid. Here endeth the lesson.
The lingering taste of the cider also meant the bottle of Shepherd Neame's late red didn't taste particularly pleasant and its not as nice as I remember it being on draught. Its one of the few Shepherd Neame drinks I actually rate. But the Marston's Strong Ale was far tastier, which I drunk after unsuccesfully trying to flog it to one of the others.
Again, not a wild journey or anything particularly noteworthy that I can remember, although we did have a good time winding up Dave Waterfield by openly discussing what Wetherspoons we were going to go to once we arrived in Bath. Of course we were not actually going to a spoons but Dave absolutely seems to detest them. Apparently they dragged him into one when they were on cricket tour in Sheffield which prompted a big rant from him "we're all the way here in Sheffield, a fine drinking city, just to end up in a fucking wetherspoons?!". He has a point, although I don't mind them as much as some people do. They serve their purpose.
A 1h30m hour journey to Bath from Paddington is brilliant going though isn't it? Just 3h15m after we departed Dover. It takes just over 2 hours to get from Dover Priory to Waterloo. So the whole journey length was actually a similar/even quicker journey length than some of our jaunts to places like Basingstoke, Farnborough and Hampton via train. Long live the hi-speed I say.
Anyway, the first pub we set out to visit upon arriving at a very crowded and congested 2-platform Bath Spa station (very small for a large-ish, affluent city?) was to go to The Ale House, a 5 minute straight walk directly from the station. With some ale nerds amongst us the name stood out with appeal so we assumed it would be a superb place to start off.
Instead it turned out that their name should probably be forced to be amended by trading standards. Upon arriving it was evident that they only had 3 ales on draught - two of which were the nationwide attainable Bombardier and London Pride. The other though was Bath Gem, which is obviously local, and what a lovely pint it was too.
Pretty crap/basic inside though. Just one room big which is probably the size of your average bedroom and one unisex toilet. Entertaininment wise all it had was a TV, which was screening the evergreen dreadful programme that is Soccer AM. Which at least gave me a good chance to rant about the show, Tim Lovejoy being a massive STEVE EVANS and how badly Helen Chamberlain has aged and is probably not even worth banging any more.
Alex and Camilla also met us in here, as the Posh and Becks of Crabble were staying over the weekend in nearby Bristol. But we didn't spend too long in here - or any of the other places - as we were operating on a 'one pint per pub' policy for the day.
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| I managed to get a picture of Neil's bonce outside their labour party hall because he is bigoted right wing tory scum. |
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| I actually took photos of all the beer pumps that I drank from throughout the whole day. Sad I know, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed each time I did it, but at least you can all be enlightened by knowing exactly what I've had to drink now. |
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| Riveting, sophisticated conversation. |
Thanks to Dave dragging us down some backstreet (no euphenism here) we ended up going to a pub that I didn't even have marked down on my map; The Old Green Tree.
And what a SPECTACULAR find it was too. Well, it was a really tidy old school pub that was pretty tiny, it actually felt packed just by the nine of us arriving in there. And they had a fine choice of ales too, myself plumping for a Pitchfork. I always go for the ones that are described as lighter or golden as I'm not really a fan of the darker/stout type ones.
I loved the cosy wooden feel of the place(christ, I'm really sounding like an old ale quenching fart now, aren't I?). But I like these smaller old school pubs and I like places where people are actually forced to have conversation rather than the anti-socialness of darts and pool.
The next pub we headed towards was called The Raven. I had against it saying it sold good pies and decided it was worthy of a visit on that basis, even though I didn't have the intention of eating. Who's to argue with a Northerner when they're giving you advice on pies?
Nobody ate any pies here though I'm afraid. Although we did look on enviously at some of the Pensioners eating some lovely juicy looking pie on a bed of soft fluffy gravy.
Really, really decent ale though, which most of the pumps ironically were Truro/Cornwall based. Mine being a 'Cornish Knocker Ale' which was a lovely pint. I didn't actually have a bad pint all day come to think of it though.
And the beer drinkers were raving about the 'Koren' they were drinking, which I've now totally forgotten where it originated from but it was good to see them not just drinking the fosters type muck.
This is where Waterfield and Dodd engaged in a competition to see who could tell the worst Tim Vine style one line jokes. Well, that's how I and the others saw it anyway with a permanent feeling of face-palm, although they seemed to find themselves hilarious!
I text my Barrow pal to thank him "we're raving about the Raven". He responded by saying that Bath is a wonderful place for pubs and one of the few places he would consider moving to down south if he had to as a fierce northerner. And he was right, the whole place did seem like an awesome city. Fantastic proper pubs, none of which were as expensive as I had anticpated, while the buildings were mainly all brilliant architecture. I left feeling quite gutted that we didn't stay there for the weekend - not that I could afford it anyway.
I would just like to point out though that Bath isn't southern, its the West. The North west at that anyway. Everyone knows that the north begins past the Dartford tunnel.
The fourth pub we headed to was the Grapes, which was pretty much the most normal pub of the lot. Quiz machines, pool tables etc. Dissapointing lack of ale in there though with only two on draught so I settled for a 6X.
Then we headed back to where we started off at - there was a pub right next to the Ale House called the Huntsman, which was a useful place to return to what with it being a close walk to the station.
This was the most modern out of the lot with leather chairs, vinyl flooring, nothing on the walls etc. But it did have a good selection of beers and ales and I really enjoyed by pint of bellringer, aptly drunk by me as I am a bellend.
I have to admit here that I pulled off one of the most scummy and embarrassing acts in a life that has consisted of nothing much more than shame. As a family nearby by us finished eating their food and left the pub I noticed that one of the young boys had left nearly half a burger on their plate........................
Yes, in short I ate the thing. In my defence - Kieran had taken the first bite. And it would only be going into a dustbin anyway. But I must have been quite pissed to even contemplate doing it.....
We quite fancied going into the Lambretta's bar for our 6th pub but due to Dave and then Neil dissapearing outside for a while we eventually ran out of time. We needed to get the 14:11 train into Oldfield Park which is far nearer to Twerton so we only managed the 5 in the Centre City. Not a bad effort mind you, time always flies by quickly on these away journeys. I was quite impressed that some of the younger lads were able to operate on a fast drinking policy, we normally have a few that let the side down but that problem could be eradicated now Russell has left for Spain.
On the train we bumped into a few BAFFF CITTTYYY fans who were as Western as you could possibly imagine. But a few of them led us the way to Royal Oak for one final snifter before getting to the ground.
Another nice, old school pub it t'was with plenty of options and variety, myself settling for a Butts Organic Jester.
One of the distinct things I remember about this pub was some lovely huskey dog that was outside in the beer garden. A lovely little fella it was - truely one of the nicest breeds of dog out there. None of this poofy jack russell/yorkshire terrier nonsense - just a true genuine hound that any half respecting bloke should own.
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| "Oi Dave, check out the boat on that" |
We only had limited time in here though because as I say, it was 14:20 when we arrived and the ground was still another 10 minute walk away. So as I had to pretty much neck that pint I ended up feeling understandably bloated after 6 pints and 4 bottles in the system.
And for that reason when we arrived outside the Twerton Park turnstiles I decided to dodge a final drink in their bar instead getting the chance to renew acquaintances with one of the most old-school and characteristic grounds in our league.
Its a strange one to say the least. Behind one goal you have a very tatty small uncovered terrace. Behind the other goal is a large terrace but again uncovered and probably in need of better maitainance. Then down one side of the ground you have a very large covered terrace which is one of the best ones in the league, while the other side has two large-ish seated stands including a bit of terracing in front of one of them. You can see why the ground has such a large 8000+ capacity.
I do like the place though and it would probably be my favourite in the league if it had covered behind either/both goals. Its the closest thing I can imagine to what a ground in the 1980's would have looked like. Twerton Park has actually hosted league football for all the unknowing uneducated amongst you - Bristol Rovers used it for several years after their departure from their old Eastville home. And clearly the ground hasn't had much work - if any - since then.
So with about 10+ minutes until kick off most of us congregated behind the tinpot terrace shown above for some pre-match bantz. When I say 'most of us' there was probably about 50 Dover fans in total spread around the ground. A pretty piss poor effort compared to our last visit but fans don't win prizes, footballers do.
Even with our away numbers scarse we did attempt to make a bit of noise and even divulged in a bit of pre match singing. Including a verse of "get back in my sandwich" (seriously- who the fuck came up with that?!) to Bath City's pathetic excuse of a mascot, which I think is supposed to be a pig.
Kick-off time was soon around the corner and Dover fans would have a treat for the majority of the 90 minutes ahead. Nicky Forster made plenty of changes to the side that got beaten by Hayes & Yeading, reverting back to a 4-4-2 with Bricknell partnering May up front. Jamie Smith replaced Modeste after an impressive second half cameo while Steve Watt was dropped in favour of Danny Webb after his error cause Hayes's goal last week. There was also no place in the team for Shane Huke, with Chris Sessesgnon getting another crack of the whip in that position.
We would dominate most of the first half proceedings with some fine counter-attacking, most of it through my man of the match Jamie Smith on the left wing. I previously questioned why he was signed and what he brings to the team but my scepticsm has faded after this display. No wonder why he repeatedly brought chants of 'Messi' from us, constantly mugging their hapless defenders by nutmegging them and various pieces of skill.
Most of our chances in the first half fell to Ben May, who led the line superbly all afternoon. First of all his goal-bound shot was blocked with a last ditch intervention, then moments later he did find the net. An excellent cross by Cogan was met with a fine downwards header that comfortably beat Glyn Garner in goal..... only to see the Linesman raise his flag for a very suspect offside decision.
In the half's closing stages Ben May had a very similar chance to his ruled out 'goal', only this time his header was met with a strong palm from Garner who did brilliant to turn it away. Bath then mustered up their first shot of the game moments before the half-time whistle, but Charlie Griffin dragged his shot wide of the post
So my overall assessment of the first half was that we were playing some very nice football and we were unfortunate to not go into the second with at least a 1 goal lead.
Stupidly I got lost trying to find the bar for a half-time pint so ended up wasting 5 minutes when it turned out the only way you could enter it was by going to the entrance which was right by our goal, instead of going to the other end of the ground like I did. D'oh!
Its nice to see another club operating with a queueing system in their bar, something I have called for for ours for a very long time now. Which meant I had to neck my half time pint of carling, now reverting back to shit lager.
But I still just about managed to make it to behind the other goal in time for kick-off, albeit needing to set up my large quantity of flags, which we may of had more of than fans.
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| Expertly set up. |
Just after all that tying up business I did have enough time to turn around and see that non-league veteran wanker Griffin score and take an early second half-lead, completely against the run of first half play.
I can't remember who took it but it was a long range shot that crashed against the cross bar, catching a back peddling Walker off his feet in the process. The rebounded ball wasn't dealt with and Charlie managed to tuck away the loose ball.
Cue thoughts of "here we fucking ago again" and that really upset our rythym again as we began to lose our composure and revert back to long ball football.
But you have to remember this is a Dover Athletic away side and we don't surrender without a fight, and it was actually the long ball that paid dividends and got us back into the game.
Just as I had shouted out something along the lines of "For fuck sake Dover, keep the ground on the floor and pass it like in the first half", moments later Ben May had flicked on the long ball from defence and the ball went into the path of Billy Bricknell, who fired in a spectacular low drilled finish from a really tight angle across the box.
By the time we had finished going fucking mental behind the goal and cooled down a bit, I was rightfully open up to a bit of piss-taking from people for my comments only moments earlier. I didn't care though - I don't mind being proven wrong if it ever benefits DAFC.
It was a fine finish - one I've been desperate to see highlights off to see if I can remember if it was as good as I initially thought or whether I just had beer goggles on. Sadly the people of Bath are a bit backwards and they're very slow at getting highlights on the internet it seems.
This kick-started a frantic 5 minute spell of football which would see a further two goals. Firstly Ben May headed a ball just wide of the goal and then Bath would put the ball into the Dover net - only to see the flag raised at that end for the second time of the afternoon.
But they would sulk big time at our goal where they believed they should have had a free kick just outside our box. Nothing was given, instead we attacked and won ourselves a rather soft looking free-kick from dangerous shooting distance.
Barry Cogan stood up to take the free kick and fired it........ straight into the wall. The ball broke loosely behind them but none of their defenders reacted to it. They stopped. They watched. All while the wily Scotsman nipped in and collected the loose ball before rounding Garner in goal (who came out seconds too late) before tapping the ball into an empty net.
Cue some of the most joyous goal celebrations in a long while, with a whole near empty terrace to do it across. I don't quite know why but I was sprinting lengths of the terrace just going fucking nuts. I've never had sex, but I imagine the feeling of ejaculation/orgasms must be very similar and akin to that of scoring a goal.
Fucking brilliant. And we were the only team in it from there onwards. There was a huge moment of controversy when we should have extended our lead when similar to Thomson's goal, Dean Rance rounded Garner in goal only to see his shot blocked on the line and go out for a corner. Dean himself and various Dover fans behind the terrace were livid that the defender had clearly stopped it with his arm. From where I was it looked like just a good block but judging by the severity of others complaints some clearly feel we were cheated there.
Rance ended up protesting too much and having already been booked, saw his marching orders for it, leaving us with a very nervous finale. We needn't worry. With the substitues Modeste and Forster coming on we saw the game out with ease, running down the clock majestically. Getting the ball into the corners and not losing it.
But fuck me that final whistle was music to my ears and those of us that made the journey realised that is why it is worth it and that's why we love football - for victories like that. I was magnificiently proud of all our players performances and efforts into that.
And its made me realise one thing. They deserve our support. The manager needs our support. We need to unite, so I'm going to ease off the criticism and stay positive for as much as I possibly can. The home form is bound to turn the tide sooner or later? You can't help but feel with some of our away performances over the past 9 months that the form at Crabble is psychological and all it will take it a few victories to make our home a fortress again. I certainly hope so anyway, because the players proved then that we were good enough and we comfortably outplayed the home side, a view echoed by some of their more gracious supporters in the bar afterwards.
Yep, we stuck around in their bar for a little while so we could congratulate and thank our players and a pint was much needed after a sore out throat where our small away following had really got stuck in song wise. Such witty original songs were prevailent like "You can stick your fucking carrots up your arse" and "Stick to fucking rugby" and as the blog title suggests, "Celebrate, Good times THOMSON!", which Phil was really pleased with himself for even though it was, and is, pretty lame.
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| "A gaggle of meat paste sandwich eating misfits that don't belong in a normal society" Ukrainian Phil - 2012 |
After 1 joyous celebratory pint in here and pats on the back all round we headed to one final Bath pub of the day, this time the White Horse, which came on the back of a painful tedious walk up a hill. Another really nice pub though with plenty of selection, this time my choice was a Blond Witch,
So we purchased the drinks, got the train back into Bath Spa blah blah said goodbye to Alex and Camilla blah blah and then hopped on our train to Paddington, opting to sit in the first class section to make sure we weren't annoying the great general public.
But things went tits up from here onwards. Why? Well first of all I thought it would be a good idea to obviously leave behind mine and Dodd's 8 cans on the platform meaning I no longer had anything to drink. Cue me throwing an absolute paddy at myself for being a complete and utter incompetent twat. Despite all the others kindly offering me drinks to have I was still utterly pissed off at my brainlessness.
Then we had to suffer the conductor from hell, an obvious social outcast who felt the need to be an absolute cock of the highest order. With everyone in first class he decided to kick everyone out who didn't have first class tickets. I.E: Everyone but me and Dave. Fair enough, whatever. Everyone moved out with no problems and just accepted it after failing to reason with him then.
Then he charged Dave for an upgrade to first class ticket. Fair enough, Dave paid it although he wasn't happy with him for doing it because most train guard employees have are reasonable enough to look out for each other. Its not like there were any noticeable benefits in the first class section either other than it being empty and quiet.
Anyway, next thing we know once we've pulled into Reading station this absolute STEVE EVANS has quite embarrassingly called the transport police and forced everyone off of the train other than Me and Neil off the train for apparently using threatening and abusive language towards him. Nobody had even spoken to the cunt in 25 minutes.
Apparently when the transport police questioned the others about it they (the transport police) were completely embarrassed that this conductor had taken such actions to remove them from the train. They ended up getting on one 25 minutes after mine and Neil's and no action was taken. This guy was just some complete and utter jobsworth cunt. I really hope he has to deal with some genuine arseholes on his job one day.
I don't claim Dover fans to be angels and we do behave like nobs at times, albeit loveable ones, but everyone was genuinely well behaved and reasonable here and the train conductor was just a complete disgrace to his profession.
So me and Neil, confused by what had happened visited a pub on the upper tier of Paddington station while we waited for them. It was a good job Neil was kind enough to buy me a beer because it was over £4 for a pint of San Miguel in there.
Eventually we caught up with the others and made our way to Dover Priory via Pancras, getting into Dover at around 22:20. It was quite an emotional journey back reflecting on the year anniversairy from when our good friend David Bell passed away, whom we still love dearly and wish was still with us today.
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| Awwww...... |
You know how this story ends, don't you? Chinese takeaway (which btw is the best post-football piss up food, IMHO), wolfed it down, fell asleep on the sofa. The end.
Well not the end for some of the others, who somehow still made it to the Louie Armstrong for some more boozing. Fair play to their spirit and endeavour.
And better is still to come.... Dover visit my home town team Herne Bay tonight for the first time ever in a competitive match, meaning I finally have a match which is ten minutes from my house. Although ironically I'll be coming from Dover to watch the game as I've travelled all the way over from Herne Bay to write this blog (my internet landline has expired at me Mam's house). But at least I'll get home in time for Hollyoaks later!
Then there's the small matter of the FA Cup tie with Tonbridge this Saturday on the eve of my birthday. Will I get a superb early birthday present by ending the woeful home run? Probably not but I'll keep dreaming anyway.
| Saturday 15 Sep 2012 | |||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| AFC Hornchurch | 1 | - | 0 | Dorchester | |
 Smith (34) |
 273 |
||||
| Bath City | 1 | - | 2 | Dover | |
| Griffin (51) |
Bricknell (62) (71) |
614 |
|||
| Chelmsford | 2 | - | 1 | Weston-S-Mare | |
Rainford (76) Ledgister (80) Bridges (90) |
Stearn (20) |
938 |
|||
| Eastbourne Borough | 1 | - | 0 | Basingstoke | |
| Lok (85) |
Smart (71) |
531 |
|||
| Eastleigh | 4 | - | 2 | Maidenhead Utd | |
| Ademola (38) Sankofa (57) Jordan (78) Southam (91) |
Solomon (20) Tilson-Lascaris (67) |
506 |
|||
| Farnborough | 0 | - | 3 | Welling | |
| Hughes-Mason (15) Healy (04) |
1,250 |
||||
| Hayes & Yeading | 2 | - | 3 | Salisbury | |
Williams (38) Oyenuga (91) |
White (17) White (22) Matthews (34) Fitchett (44) Fitchett (45) |
293 |
|||
| Staines Town | 1 | - | 2 | Billericay | |
| Wheeler (46) |
Osborn (40) Swaine (89) Green (91) |
363 |
|||
| Sutton Utd | 1 | - | 1 | Havant and W | |
| Downer (42 og ) Dundas (71) |
826 |
||||
| Tonbridge Angels | 4 | - | 2 | Boreham Wood | |
| Purcell (04) Collin (70) Purcell (06) Browning (90) |
(27) Hutton (69) |
451 |
|||
| Truro City | 0 | - | 1 | Bromley | |
| Joseph-Dubois (39) |
538 | ||||
| Pos | Team | P | W | D | L | F | A | GD | Pts | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 |  |
Salisbury City | 8 | 6 | 1 | 1 | 14 | 9 | 5 | 19 |
| 2 |  |
Dorchester | 8 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 10 | 7 | 3 | 16 |
| 3 | |
Welling United | 8 | 4 | 3 | 1 | 16 | 10 | 6 | 15 |
| 4 | |
Maidenhead United | 8 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 21 | 12 | 9 | 14 |
| 5 | |
Boreham Wood | 8 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 13 | 8 | 5 | 14 |
| 6 | |
Chelmsford | 8 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 11 | 9 | 2 | 14 |
| 7 | |
Dover | 8 | 3 | 3 | 2 | 10 | 8 | 2 | 12 |
| 8 | |
Billericay Town | 8 | 3 | 2 | 3 | 16 | 14 | 2 | 11 |
| 9 | |
Hayes & Yeading | 8 | 3 | 2 | 3 | 13 | 12 | 1 | 11 |
| 10 | |
Bromley | 8 | 3 | 2 | 3 | 9 | 9 | 0 | 11 |
| 11 | |
Bath City | 8 | 3 | 1 | 4 | 12 | 11 | 1 | 10 |
| 12 | |
Eastbourne Borough | 8 | 3 | 1 | 4 | 7 | 8 | -1 | 10 |
| 13 | |
Eastleigh | 8 | 3 | 1 | 4 | 12 | 14 | -2 | 10 |
| 14 | |
Basingstoke Town | 7 | 2 | 3 | 2 | 8 | 9 | -1 | 9 |
| 15 | |
Hornchurch | 8 | 2 | 3 | 3 | 6 | 9 | -3 | 9 |
| 16 | |
Tonbridge Angels | 8 | 1 | 5 | 2 | 13 | 14 | -1 | 8 |
| 17 | |
Farnborough | 8 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 10 | 14 | -4 | 8 |
| 18 | |
Havant and Waterlooville | 8 | 1 | 5 | 2 | 10 | 14 | -4 | 8 |
| 19 | |
Staines Town | 7 | 1 | 3 | 3 | 7 | 9 | -2 | 6 |
| 20 | |
Weston-S-Mare | 8 | 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 11 | -6 | 6 |
| 21 | |
Sutton United | 8 | 0 | 5 | 3 | 9 | 14 | -5 | 5 |
| 22 | |
Truro City * | 8 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 11 | 18 | -7 | -2 |
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