There is no point in me trying to hide my allegiance to West Ham United football club. I saw my first game at Upton Park on January 26, 1973, or, rather, I got a few glimpses of green turf between the packed bodies in overcoats and leather jackets, huddled together on the old South Bank. Aged 10, I could barely breathe through excitement and a 3-1 win over London rivals Chelsea more than made up for the fact that I hardly saw a kick of the game.

Over the years of travelling, collecting West Ham match programmes was a by-product of the day out rather than a full-on hobby, especially as the condition of the programme once you got it home depended very much on the weather, venue and journeying conditions from the day.

In 1995, the club asked me if I'd like to write an occasional column for them, Speaking Personally. Having been a supporter since I was able to pull on a claret and blue shirt unaided, I realised it was the only way I was going to get my name in the match programme. I've loved every second of it