Portman Road car park - easy in, frustrating out

As my reader may have spotted from my ramblings over the last few years, I am not adverse to the odd concert.

My musical tastes are still firmly rooted in the 1970s, however.

Hence my sheer excitement on hearing that Sir Rod Stewart was to perform at Portman Road in Ipswich.

Within a few minutes our tickets were secured via a well-known booking site.

Then the big day arrived - Friday, June 7. SWMBO and I drove into Ipswich and parked in the large NCP car park directly outside Portman Road.

This was thoroughly trouble and stress-free and so we wandered round to the East of England Coop Stand to meet up with some friends. Well, I say friends – brother-in-law and sister-in-law actually.

Some hours later we found ourselves back at the car having enjoyed an incredibly smooth and well-presented concert.

Which was when the fun (not) started.

Over the years I have found one of life’s imponderables to be the following – why do car parks at large gatherings, be they music concerts, football matches or race days at Newmarket, have loads of people on hand when you arrive but no-one available to help when you leave?

Late evening June 7 this year was like a Suffolk version of Wacky Races but without the cartoon characters.

I won’t bore my reader with intricate, or even intimate, details of the events that unfolded but suffice to say it took almost an hour and a half to get out of the car park. When we did eventually escape, and I use that term intentionally, the car park for Portman Road itself there was one woman, an ITFC employee, standing in the middle of the road directing cars.

Why can’t ITFC, who presumably made a few quid out of the concert, look after its customers at all times?

I can only imagine that this scenario is played out at every ITFC home match. It was the same at the old Wembley Stadium. My brother-in-law and I were England Members for most of the 1990s and saw nearly every home game during that decade.

And it was the same old story after the final whistle had blown. Chaos in the cark park outside.

After the first couple of occasions we learnt our lesson and had a simple, but tasty, solution.

We would stay seated in the stadium until it emptied, then wander out to the food stalls on the concourse who, by now, were keen to get rid of the last few burgers, sausages etc.

So it was four burgers in a bun for the price of one, a half-price coffee and a relaxed wait for the car park, and North Circular, to quieten down.

Simples.