I met him many years ago in one of the posher corridors at Villa Park. He greeted me like a long lost cousin. Must’ve been my northern accent. He was immaculately dressed, fully manicured, and smelled vaguely of limes. His handshake was surprisingly gentle: I’d been expecting a rough knarled vice-like grip but it was warm, soft. Not being all that keen on football, I wasn’t absolutely sure who he was until later, but I’d liked him instantly. Seems he had that effect.
Many years on, he was in a lift, maybe at Baltic or one of the hotels. He looked frail and was slightly unsteady on his feet. There was some sort of gentle conversation going on about a match, and the same sweet lingering smell of limes.
The photograph here is one of a series from the rather exhaustive content on Photographs of Newcastle. Click through to see the others. You may be gone for some time.
Bobby Robson
I met him many years ago in one of the posher corridors at Villa Park. He greeted me like a long lost cousin. Must’ve been my northern accent. He was immaculately dressed, fully manicured, and smelled vaguely of limes. His handshake was surprisingly gentle: I’d been expecting a rough knarled vice-like grip but it was warm, soft. Not being all that keen on football, I wasn’t absolutely sure who he was until later, but I’d liked him instantly. Seems he had that effect.
Many years on, he was in a lift, maybe at Baltic or one of the hotels. He looked frail and was slightly unsteady on his feet. There was some sort of gentle conversation going on about a match, and the same sweet lingering smell of limes.
The photograph here is one of a series from the rather exhaustive content on Photographs of Newcastle. Click through to see the others. You may be gone for some time.
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