Cod Almighty | Article
by Mike Worden
20 November 2004
Those fleeting brushes with someone vaguely famous we've all had them. 80s uber-cow Nina Myskow once waltzed past me at Larnaca airport. Waiting for a bus in the middle of Leeds the last thing I expected was Paul Whitehouse walking past. Terrorvision have pushed-in ahead of me at a Bradford pub. Fame, fame, fatal fame.
And then there are the times when you have had a close unexpected encounter with someone linked with Grimsby Town Football Club. No, not those times you bumped into Tony Gallimore down the Pier. Or you worked at Nisa and your boss was Dudley Ramsden. No, no, none of that. They're all predictable circumstances. We want tales of the unexpected. Chance meetings.
You know what it's like when work and private lives get mixed up? When you see things out of context and they take a bit of working out? I work in a ordinary office in an ordinary little Cheshire town. Well, it's a small planning office, but I don't spread that around too much.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I am walking through reception and who should be there but Danny Coyne. Normally there is just somebody waiting to see plans of their neighbour's house extension or something, but this really was our old keeper and his wife. Then this week, I am walking through the reception on my way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and who should be there but Daryl Clare. "Look at this!" I said to him, showing my 'only way is up' mug from many seasons ago.
Oh how he laughed, wondered what I was doing "in this neck of the woods" and shared genuine concern about the plight of the club. And then he was off, to complete the packing of his house contents into removal boxes and to sign for one of our Lincolnshire rivals.
Who'll be next? A tall scotsman with a smoking habit?