Words by Graham Boosey | Published 29.08.2026I think it’s fair to say that if you are reading this, football plays a big part in your life and it’s also fair to say that most fans will have certain key events that stand out to them as being the moment their love for the beautiful game was solidified.
On Saturday 8th May 1993 my father asked if I would like to watch Southend United take on Luton Town. I genuinely have no recollection of any interest in football prior to this date, despite being 6 years old at the time. Italia 90 completely passed me by, and England’s failure to qualify for the 1992 Euros meant that held little interest also.
But, that sunny day is completely etched on my brain. As soon as I walked into the glorious Roots Hall I was hooked. A wall of atmosphere, noise and excitement hit me like a crashing wave, and I had well and truly found my life's obsession.
It was actually quite an important game; nearly 12,000 people had crammed into the ground, with both teams potentially needing a win to avoid relegation, although it turned out not to be the case, with both teams leaving happy in spite of a 2-1 win for Southend.
One key thing to point out is that at this age I had a couple of other obsessions; letter writing and aviation. Showing my age, but before the internet was a thing it was a bit of a challenge to find out about things that may interest you.
So, I would write endless letters, all with a vague request for “information”, which, on reflection, feels a little sinister. These letters were often directed at airlines or airports, feeding my desire to know everything I could about flight. I was never happier than when I received a fleet list for some random airline.
This all began because we, as a family, had taken a day trip from Southend to Venice (how’s that for a contrast) to celebrate my Grandfather's retirement. I was absolutely buzzing. I’m not sure I slept properly for the whole period before and after. It also introduced me to the concept of early morning airport pints. My Grandmother had a Guiness on the go at 8am and to put me off she told me it was “strong Coca-Cola”.
Something from my childhood that has stayed with me to this very day is a desire to seek out the purest form of whatever happens to interest me at the time.
So, with aviation, this led me to the world of Microlights. For those of you who aren’t aware, it's a hang glider wing, attached to a small three wheel trike with some seats bolted on to it and powered by a glorified lawnmower engine.
So what else to do than write a letter to the nearest flight school and do the logical thing and ask for a flight in one? As a testament to the power of asking the question, they got back to me and before I knew it I was standing in a mown farmers field just outside London Colney in Hertfordshire.
Luckily for me, the weather was favourable that day. There are so many variables with Microlighting, so there I was, sat in this tiny contraption with a man, who afterwards admitted he was rather nervous about taking me up. The lawnmower engine roared and before my parents knew it, I had disappeared over the horizon, no sight or sound of me whatsoever.
It was at this moment it dawned on my parents that sending me up in the air on what was basically a Flymo wasn’t the best idea.
Nonetheless, I returned safe and well. It’s mad to look back and think I did that, I break out in a cold sweat and palpitations at the thought of walking to the shop these days. He even asked me if I wanted to take the controls and fly it myself. Luckily I declined; I am to this very day, incredibly, albeit unwittingly, clumsy.
I can almost guarantee that if I so much as glanced at the flight controls we would’ve immediately found ourselves crashed into the nearest vegetation.
Graham taking flight in his microlight.Sundays in our household meant two things for me, fried bread and the opportunity to pour over the football results in the paper. I was fascinated by this huge footballing ecosystem that existed and still exists.
And there it was, under the heading for the Minerva South Midlands League - London Colney FC.
It blew my mind that, what I assumed at the time was nothing more than a field in Hertfordshire, could support its own football team. It is in fact a rather historic club, having been formed way back in 1907.
They also hold the Guiness World Record for the longest cup tie. Before the introduction of penalty shootouts they faced Leavesden Hospital 7 times, with Colney eventually winning 1-0.
But there they were. What else could I do but my usual ritual; grab an A4 piece of paper and a pen and ask them for “information……”
As previously mentioned, the internet wasn’t a thing at this point, so finding addresses was actually rather challenging. My letters to airports for example usually looked something like;
Guernsey Airport
Guernsey
Somehow these letters usually reached their intended destinations, where, I imagine, a highly stressed human, juggling ATC communication with a million other tasks, suddenly found themselves dealing with a weird child requesting to know how long their runway was.
This time around however, I came prepared. For some reason, and I have no idea why, we, as a family, would visit St Albans semi-regularly. It’s quite a nice place, to be fair. We used to go to a lot of aviation museums and it turned out London Colney had one of those as well, at the time called the “Mosquito Museum” (a wooden framed WW2 aircraft) now known as the de Havilland Aircraft Museum.
Following the revelation that there was indeed a London Colney FC, we went in search of it during one of these trips. Initially we didn’t have much luck, so I asked a local in the town where I could find the ground, and he looked at me like I’d asked him to explain quantum mechanics. Then, well, we just stumbled upon it.
On reflection, it wasn’t all that much but I was utterly thrilled. It was basically a field, with a railed off pitch, a concrete clubhouse and a stand that looked like an accident had occurred in B&Q, constructed from breeze blocks and plywood, but for a 10 year old me, it felt very special.
The stand at London Colney FC's Cotlandswick Park.
Photo Credit: FlickrThis trip enabled me to have a more complete address with which to send my letter to, no doubt saving some poor overworked Royal Mail employee a bucketload of hassle.
Let’s have a look at the letter together. What you can’t see right now is me cringing to a point that it’s painful.
“I am a great fan”. There’s the first lie, I wasn’t.
“I think you are a great team”. Lie number two.
And there it is; “Information”, my lifeblood, without which clearly I would’ve shrivelled up and died.
Now, it is worth clarifying how most Non-League clubs operate. It is a world away from the game we see on Sky Sports every weekend.
There are no riches unless a local businessman needs to launder some cash, everything is run by the kindness of volunteers, and invariably it involves men of retirement age slaving away to keep the lights on.
If you want a demonstration of how important a bit of cashflow is to these clubs, look no further than the fact they were the first club to sell sponsorship on their players' crotches.
Yes, sexual wellness company Lelo lent their branding to the front of Colney's shorts in the 2022/23 season.
London Colney were the first club to have their crotches sponsored.
Photo Credit: Wales OnlineI think what I find particularly jarring about this image is the fact they are lacking a shirt sponsor, the commercial manager at the time clearly keener on securing the valuable bollock market.
All of that is to say that, by rights, the letter should really have been nothing more than a side note in the relentless and gruelling world of keeping a grassroots club alive and well.
However, the complete opposite came to pass. My parents had held their response back to coincide with my birthday, entering my living room with a box so substantial that it could’ve potentially given my father a hernia.
They had responded, big time. In this box was a frankly astonishing amount of memorabilia, from a number of shirts from previous seasons, every programme imaginable to the crowning glory, a Minerva match ball, signed by the entire first team.
I still have the match ball but as you can see, the signatures are barely there anymore, either way, it’s survived the last 30 years relatively intact.
I was also blessed with a signed programme and the fact they had printed my letter onto the back of their Herts FA Senior Centenary Trophy Programme.
Graham's signed Minerva match ball.I was also invited to attend one of their matches at some point, and I was lucky that my father not only loved football but was willing to go on wild goose chases just to satisfy my hobbies and interests.
So, before I knew it, that is exactly what we did. Taking the journey from my native Southend on Sea around the M25, I can’t explain the excitement and anticipation coursing through me in the car that day.
I’m not saying that I’m easily pleased but my father treated me to lunch at Mcdonalds on the way, already enough to satisfy a tubby little sod like me, but this one in Shenley was a converted old pub. I thought this was incredible: “Man, we are really living the high life today”, I told myself.
With my belly suitably full of nuggets and fries we headed over to Cotlandswick, the home of London Colney FC.
Like I mentioned previously, it was quite an open field, you just drove in through the gate and parked up on the grass next to the pitch, something which proved to be an issue on a return visit, a heavy downpour turning it into a quagmire.
Now, with a lot of non-league grounds, there is at least some sort of fencing these days, maybe even a turnstile if you are lucky but this wasn't the case back then. The club basically had a man who was highly skilled at sneaking up on you just after arrival, taking your entrance fee in exchange for a booklet full of ads and a small programme inside.
This fella, let me tell you, could easily have qualified for some sort of Special Forces assignment, I’m convinced I once saw him barrel roll under an Austin Metro in pursuit of the £4 fee. I was, however, blown away when this man exclaimed “Are you Graham?!”
WIth this we were led into the clubhouse to meet the man who had made this all possible, former Chairman Brian Curtis. I’ve never really done football in any sort of VIP area, besides a trip to Millwall where I went mental after Southend scored, only to realise where I was. Luckily, being 11 saved me that day.
The club pulled out all the stops, allowing me to stand in the committee area, which, although it was basically a roped off area of the clubhouse, made me feel I was in proper prawn sandwich territory.
It elevated the club to almost mythical status. In my eyes, forward Dave Cutmore was my hero, in his eyes I was a strange 10 year old boy with a frankly astonishingly large bowl cut.
I genuinely think Non League is the ultimate form of football; where else could my father take the time to teach the laws of the game to the opposing team regarding the placement of the ball for a corner?
The London Colney Hertfordshire Charity Shield winning squad, which featured many of the players Graham saw that day.Hopefully by now you’ve established just how above and beyond the club went for me. It fully sealed my love for the amateur game, it is a core memory I will hold dear until my journey to the next life.
We visited the club a number of times over the following years, a particular highlight being a derby match against the big boys next door, St Albans City, in the qualifying rounds of the FA Cup.
The game had to be switched to St Albans’ Clarence Park due to ground grading requirements and I suppose it would’ve been a challenge for Mr Special Forces to sneak up on 700 people.
It was a magnificent ground, with a huge oak tree springing out of one of the terraces. Sadly, FA Ground Grading did for both Clarence Park and Cotlandswick in the end. I understand the need for it but I do think it’s a crying shame that some of the character was sacrificed.
Either way, it was a wonderful day out, with Colney achieving some sort of minor giant killing holding the opposition to a draw. It was so good in fact that my father rushed home from work on the Tuesday to take me back there for the replay.
At that time there was a monthly magazine called “Team Talk”, all about the English Non-League game, and they had a spot the ball competition where you could win 3 Spalding (the new Conference ball sponsor) footballs for your club.
Well, we’d picked up the latest copy from the shop and there I was in the back of the car, when I read the following: “Spot the Ball Competition Winner - Graham Boosey (London Colney FC)”.
In my excitement I had no idea how to react so I just let out a blood curdling scream which nearly gave my parents a coronary. I’m amazed my Dad didn’t crash into someone's house.
Anyway, where does that leave us today? Did that strange, little letter writing boy grow into a strange, letter writing man? Well, for a while the school system and life in general successfully removed any hope for life for a while but I think I’d be lying if this isn’t something middle aged me does a bit still.
Just ask David Jardine, the incredibly kind and patient admin of the “Willowfield Duffers FC” Instagram account, who responded very positively to my request for “information.”
