By Robert Stock
April 5 2009

Robert Stock reviews a visit to Carmarthen, with the highlight of the day involving a linesman and photographer getting injured.

Carmarthen Town v NEWI Cefn Druids, Saturday 4th April 2009

How did you get there? Due to a lack of similarly demented friends, aquaintances or enemies, I made the journey south alone. The drive was a pleasant, if winding and occasionally nauseous, trip down the A483 through the mountains of Mid Wales which ensure north-south commutes are a time-consuming ordeal.

I stopped for a lonesome picnic just after Llanwrtyd Wells, from where it was just a short walk to the summit of the aptly named Sugar Loaf hill, providing a perfect opportunity to walk off the excessive caloriers I'd just consumed.

Pre-match shenanigans? I arrived at 1pm, so I decided to walk into the town centre to see if I could find the castle and see if I could find a Welsh town that does not boast a single 'Pound' shop, the former at which I was successful and pleased to discover it was free to wander round at my leisure.

The town itself seemed strangely subdued for a Saturday afternoon, but perhaps the locals were all busy descending on Richmond Park?

What was the damage? £6

Was the ground any worse than Airbus? On entering the turnstiles you are immediately greeted by the impressive, and new-looking, 1000 seater Clay Shaw Butler Stand. I was a little disappointed to find the other 3 sides totally undeveloped, although the majority of supporters chose to stand around the uncovered perimeter of the pitch.

Tea-hut tales? A typically cosy, Welsh Premier refreshment hut, where you are served politely and efficiently by, seemingly, the entire membership of the local Women's Institute. Prices were good, but I felt a longing for the 'proper' mugs visitors to Plaskynaston Lane are treated to when enjoying their half time cuppa.

How crap was the game? With Druids struggling to even name 2 substitutes it was evident we'd be happy to escape home with a point, despite our recent excellent form. The home side had the vast majority of possession but failed to create many clear cut chances. Despite our rearguard action frustrating the hosts, we still managed to hit the woodwork twice, but finally succumbed to the killer goal just 8 minutes from time. Far from a classic, but a commendable effort considering the number of players we had missing.

Were the adverts in the programme any good? On arrival I was told they still 'hadn't arrived', and failed to find any afterwards. I'm sure it was great though.

Were the home fans awake? A solitary drum played sporadically and almost apologetically was the height of the atmosphere. Still, if he'd done that in Cefn the local residents would have rung the police.

Any other anecdotes to bore us with? A high-speed collision between a linesman and over-zealous photographer during the second half certainly appealed to my more sadistic nature, and was far more entertaining than any of the football on display.