The old dowager was well past her best when the wrecking balls moved in, but it had a unique character, like the faded seats of a different hue wherever you looked.
I remember when we were at the cutting edge of technology after the north stand opened, and an electronic scoreboard was installed. In a way, it was a reflection of our demise, as it worked well enough initially, but when the money started running out, the light bulbs started to blow, never to be replaced, and the messages became a confusing mish mash of unintelligible gibberish, rather like our chairman at the time.