Having a ball with the boys comes at a high price

MY son and I take his friend to his first ever football match. The friend, who is older, taller and therefore cooler than my son, is immediately reduced to slack-jawed awe.

That’s before we even get to our seats — it’s the queues and the prices that leave him speechless. Football used to be a pursuit of the common man — being a middle-class woman I wouldn’t know much about that but what I do know is that it is not a cheap day out.

HOW MUCH? asks son’s friend in astonishment as I hand over a week’s wages for two packets of crisps and a terrible coffee. HOW MUCH? he gasps again as we throng into the supporters’ shop before the game, to ogle the hats, scarves, gloves, kits, books, dvds, branded chocolate bars, branded babygros, limited edition hoodies, framed photographs of every striker who ever played for the team, and a separate section crammed with all of the above, except in pink, for the girlie supporters who can’t handle the idea of not wearing pink even for 90 minutes.