Colonel Mustard returns from his latest batch of intensive therapy, recommended by no less than the esteemed Prof Ganglion, club physician and nerve specialist (Hat size 8+). The Professor in stern words, had indicated that a stiff injection of sea air and immersive Fjord Therapy a must for Mustard. Let us all hope that it has worked.

Kingswood as any boo boo will know, used to be in the county of Wiltshire. However, it surrendered that status in 1844, due to the Counties (Detached Parts) Act of that year, having been, somewhat peculiarly nothing less than a detached part itself. For the yearning historian in you, there was a thriving Cistercian Abbey here founded in 1139, colonised by monks from their house at Tintern. In honour of Hugh, their very first Abbot, I would like to report that the writer, reverently downed a pint of his namesake. (I don’t mean Hugh (not you) either – now I must say that so early on, you’re just being a trifle pedantic)

The embowered cricket ground of Kingswood doesn’t sprawl upon the remains of the old abbey, of which there are remarkably few, but lies instead at a most sensible walking distance from The Village Inn.

With humidity levels set at high, the mercury teetering around the mark of 75 degrees F and our unseen feathered friends twittering at extreme levels, the captain lost the toss. The Bays had been sent into the field to bat in a 30 over game that looked from the off as though it would be rain affected. Heavy ponderous storm clouds moved around the ground like a Sumo wrestler in a cake shop. The Bays Captain strangely, had managed to remember to bring the scorebook which he had forgotten the previous week. Had he filled it in in a fit of remorse? Had he cocoa! I must push on here though, before I agitate his dander and God forbid, he reaches for ‘Old Flexy’ his favourite pupil encourager.

Norbert Nobbie the Nobster opened the innings with the young and thrusting Angus Guthrie (but more of him very soon). Nobbie looking out of sorts as his regular batting partner of years, seems to have turned his back on the game of cricket, to thrash little white balls around a manicured, some would say ruined piece of countryside. Yes, I jest not. Chris Crazy Horner is walking 18 holes with his mashie niblick. No good at all will come of it, old Mustard here sternly warns. Mind you, some quarter of a century ago, the club suffered a much worse case of Golfitis as quite a few regular players decided that a little white ball that didn’t move was easier to hit than its bigger red cousin that moved with a bit of zip. And where is the camaraderie in ‘shooting’ nine holes on your tod in the wind and rain? If you were to pose this question to our right-honourable chairman, he’d shoot you a gimlet-eyed glance all right and say, ‘You need your plugs decarbonised, you’re off your bally rocker!’

Now, returning to the abandoned Norbert, we have to sadly report that after the first over he had six nicely defined dots and a wide; the score had climbed to just the one. Angus, seeing the forlorn broken-hearted man playing at the other end, didn’t hang around, going bowled, first ball to Wallace. Tom Liley, his replacement, saw out the rest of the over with the score 1 for 1. It looked like a ‘long’ afternoon was in store for the Bays. But things move mysteriously in cricket with Tom cracking a well-timed four and Nobby getting off the mark with a single. 2 overs gone and score up to a heady 6 with just the one back in the nest box.

Nobby however left the very next ball, to be bowled by Wallace, to bring the captain to the crease. At this point our doughty sporran-clad Scotsman, Rod Braveheart Macleod, for some reason shouting, ‘Freedom!’ was demanding to bat, to see off as he thought, William Wallace. The captain, ignoring the kilted kerfuffle on the boundary, set about his task in a ruthless business manner, like a headmaster ignoring the naughty boys at the front, knowing that some other minion will sort them out before too long.

Racing to 4 off his first 25 deliveries, the cappuccino seemed set to stay, whist Tom at the other end took up the cudgels and set about building a score. Indeed, a solid partnership of sixty in the next thirteen overs saw the score up to 66 before Tom mistimed one, to be caught and bowled Mc Cubbin. Tom had been going well and when out was on 28 off 30 with four 4s and a six. Alex Bertie Van Dyke joined the swishing pedagogue in the middle and before we knew it the score had moved on to 90, before Steve P departed unbeaten on 50 with 8 fours to his name. Alex, now batting with Steve Twine crashed a single boundary before being bowled for 13. Twine was caught behind off Burnell for seven with one four with the score 106 for 6 off 24. Was it going to be enough? This was the question no one dared ask.

Ajit in at seven, as always looked in a hurry. He sadly amassed just three singles, before being well caught off Parsons. Steve Liley in at 8 was joined by Paul Saunders, who hit a four before departing clean bowled by Parsons, with score 114. The returned keeper Liley, then hit two fours to the leg side, to make nine before going LBW with the score up to 28. Michael Harding was joined by Braveheart Macleod, who’s earlier all mouth and kilt was to be muffled, when he went first ball to Parsons.

Back came Old Pritchers as the team affectionately call the current Captain. Well, it has to be said, that his 25 off 12 in his second innings appeared to have made all the difference! Three hard hit fours and 2 big juicy sixes had to be added to his score to bring him to three-quarters of a century and the top score, before Wallace bowled the cane-wielding supremo. ‘Well done,’ to him we say!

The Bays had somehow acquired 157 in 28 of their 30 overs, whilst the tree-pippits, warbling willow tits, marsh creepers, brambling firecrests and blue-footed boobies had been twittering like the blazes in the hedgerows and associated greenery.

Perturbation is not a nice thing to see on anyone’s face after or during tea. But there it was, all over the Bays players’ faces. Had they done enough with the old Salix?

Ajit (the man in a hurry if you’d forgotten) opened the bowling with the haggis-wielding Hibs supporting Scotsman, Rod. The former went for just a single in his over, but Rod went first ball for a well driven four. Some wit on the Bays side wondered if Rod would be allowed to complete the over, but he did and soon words were being eaten like the various cakes on offer at teatime, which were and here I take you aside, to be frightfully honest, as good as any cake can be. Both bowlers, returning to the cricket, put in a stint of 6 overs each and it could be argued that the game was won here. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined the rest of the report for you, by revealing the winner, but there it is.

Ajit only yielded 12 runs and took 2 wickets, one clean bowled and one a brilliant caught and bowled, which could easily have seen him carted off to hospital in the latest blood wagon. We salute you Ajit for perhaps the catch of the season. (up to that point) Rod, wearing his kilt, sporran and somehow carrying voluminous Stewart tartaned bagpipes over his shoulder took three wickets, a bowled, an LBW and a brilliant catch by Angus Guthrie. Angus had no right to even get near the projectile. He turned his back on the ball the make the required distance and then leapt like a leaping Atlantic salmon powered possibly by a 1920’s Sir Nigel Gresley A4 type streamlined Pacific, into the great beyond. Somehow a quick glance enabled him to work out where the ball was and then in full flight, he ‘cupped it’ and fortunately the subsequent landing didn’t dislodge it, for now, the catch of the season. Not bad for a leaping salmon to get catch of the season!

Although Rod went for 38 off his six, his three wickets on the back of a golden quacker, show his Iron Brew Scottish mettle. Also, he was as near as possible to the unlikely double of said ‘golden’ and a hat trick! But alas, sometimes as the poet Burns would say, the best laid plans may go agley.

Twelve overs gone and a neat 50 on the board. Michael Harding and Paul Saunders took over the bowling duties and in their ten overs gave just 15 runs away and between them took 3 wickets, wrapping up the game. Saunders had Wallace caught by Van Dyke, whist Harding bowled Thomas and Burnell, with the score only 65 off 24.

Steve Twine (caught and bowled) and Angus G wrapped things up with the last six overs, with a wicket a piece. The game could have finished a little earlier if a stumping had been given and a Van Dyke run out accredited, but sometimes you don’t get what you deserve; that is cricket.

Kingswood were all out for 93 and the Bays shot off to The Village Inn to quaff like stags drinking after a damned good chase or as the polite in the party would say, going for an overdose of the blushful Hippocrene. But before I leave you to recover from the heat in this report, I’d like to tell you that educationally subnormal hedgehogs seem to abound

in Kingswood. The enclosed photo of a hedgehog and the caption clearly indicate this sad fact. Perhaps the captain could open a school for hedgehogs?

Old Moutarde signs off once more to drink deep and long, thereby hoping to marshal his thoughts for the next bout of convoluted verbiage.