I am accustomed to being the British Ambassador to Turkmenistan and I am disappointed to have received no gifts on MySchool Australia. My education, whether Australian or not, is not greatly improved by discovering that my name was originally given to a person who worked as a butcher. I am an accupuncturist in Newport but an acupuncturist in Cardiff. I am also a blind acupuncturist, apparently, but that sounds as if it might be inacurate. I've received a Queen's Award, which is pleasing. Perhaps that was for my work as a senior safety consultant in Angola for the past three years, which I managed to squeeze into the closing period of my 30 years as a Scottish fireman while acting as a consultant to local government and an estate agent. It would seem that I am also involved with a church whose motto is, "Open wide your mouth and I will fill it." Hmm. And that's just in the first few pages. Less probably, it claims that I am sports editor of the Romford Recorder. Oh, and on page 4 it tells me that I write a blog called Route 66. So I'd better.

When last we met, on Tuesday, I was planning a trip to Margate. And to Margate I went for a quick spot of sea air (I drove round the seafront with the car window slightly open, in other words. No way was I getting out in that wind). The later business, ground no.53, was a Premier Division game against Wealdstone. It finished 1-1 though Margate could have won by a cricket score had they made the most of their second-half possession. Interesting contrast in the dug-outs: Mark Butler was managing Margate, rather noisily, for the 15th time, Gordon Bartlett was managing Wealdstone for the 1,001st. It was also, as it turned out, Butler's last game, leaving him no doubt to regret his decision to leave Ashford (Middx), where he had been for many years, earlier this season for the lure of a theoretically bigger club. They could both depart from the Premier Division in May, but in opposite directions.

At the end of a very chilly night I was not feeling too happy about a 75-mile drive home in dodgy conditions. That was until the Sky vidiprinter tapped out TRURO 3 HEMEL HEMPSTEAD 1. Now that's a long journey home. As it happened, despite a closed stretch of motorway and a nasty flurry of snow, I was home in time to see my daughter. "You said you wouldn't be home till midnight," she snapped, and went to bed.

Wednesday was a short trip to Ilford to watch the battle between Waltham Forest and Thamesmead, both sides having suffered three-goal home defeats by Romford in the previous eight days. That didn't bode well, but Thamesmead had shaken off their disappointment and poor old Forest suffered a second successive 4-1 tonking. A massive crowd of 34 paid to get in and someone swore they had seen other people, or perhaps the same people, paying to get out. It was a good game, though, made all the better that it was played on a snow-covered pitch, something you rarely see these days. The Ryman League's official yellow winter ball is presumably designed for occasions such as this but it didn't help, perhaps because of Cricklefield's horrible street-lamp orange floodlights.

I've ducked out of the cross-London trip to Carshalton tonight but, with Canvey on Saturday followed by Ilford, Ramsgate, Concord Rangers and Boreham Wood on Monday to Thursday next week, I won't be soccer-starved (it the snow goes away). If all goes well, three of those games will be added to the Route 66 left and it'll be ten to go. Must start finding out about printers.