Cod Almighty | Diary

Grist to the mill

21 February 2014

There are several critical questions looming for the Mariners, perhaps the least pressing of which is "What is the appropriate collective noun for a queue at the ticket office?"

Your Middle-Aged Diary asks as the Telegraph employs two separate clichés in the headline and lead paragraph on the encouraging news that sales for tomorrow's FA Trophy semi-final second leg are going well. Apparently, a flock is snapping up tickets. "Flock" suggests sheep, but (you can trust me on this, I was raised in mid-Wales) sheep do not snap. The picture suggests neither sheep-like passivity nor greedy snapping but rather patient determination. Bees might be right, but swarm would not be. The less used collective noun for bees is apparently a grist. "A grist of Grimbarians" has nice alliteration.

The 'distractions of the cup' argument has now been exhausted. No-one wants to be this close without taking the final couple of steps: first to Wembley, and then to lift the cup. As for the league, win – and win well – tomorrow, and we establish a little bit of moral supremacy over one of our rivals. Winning will help us and hurt Cambridge.

The news is entirely encouraging. Shaun Pearson is available. Paul Hurst knows what team he wants to play. Above all, I like the look of that crowd queuing for tickets. Nowhere else touches Blundell Park as the place to be when the crowd and the team are as one, patient determination surging into a single unstoppable force. Make sure you are there, in spirit if not in person.

Enjoy the weekend.