You could hear the rumbling two miles away, over the incessant tooting of horns. It had just gone 10pm and the moment they had been waiting 30 years for had finally arrived. Now was the time to mark this momentous occasion.
Cars zoomed down Queens Drive, speeding in the direction of where multi-coloured flashes were illuminating the night sky. It felt like the entire city was trying to get there, racing from their homes to be outside the famous old stadium.
The final whistle had barely sounded at Stamford Bridge but, at the bottom of Utting Avenue, the road block had started to form.