Colonel Mustard returns once more, but I must warn you that he’s been walking up and down like Napolean on the Bellerophon.
When some dashed bounder took me aside and whispered conspiratorially in my nearest lug hole that my last report was inaccurate, I nearly blew a damned fuse and then with a small pinch of consternation, contemplated that maybe I was after all, a modern-day Sydney Carton. Well, I’m bally well not, I tell you! And don’t you dare bring that up again.
With my rather becoming aneroid barometer doing as many Swedish style exercises as I’ve seen it do for quite some time, the day was clearly set for a variety of different types of weather. I share with you dear reader that Poulton is a place whose climate is known to one of its residents better than any old John Kettley or indeed check-suited Michael Fish. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know the identity of this esteemed individual, or indeed exactly what he (I know it was a ‘he’ and I’m not getting drawn into and arguments about gender and all that claptrap here) said regarding the prevailing meteorological conditions. But the gist I learned, was that when the clouds grew above a particular field next to Poulton’s cricketing arena, a deluge of considerable proportions would follow, in the way day invariably follows night and so on. This brain-box of a man is I suggest, a veritable Nostradamus. He was so precise as to be within a single delivery of this match with the mighty Bays, as to when the first heavy drops would land and on his say alone after this, it would be sensible to send any contemporary Poulton-based Noahs, off to build their sturdy arks.
Before the cricket could start, a considerable shower doused the outfield, but the good news for the players at least, was that the wicket was well-covered and sheltering beneath, as snug as a worm in a chestnut. Poulton’s captain* (at least I think he was) seemed particularly upset by the conditions and was heard to mutter rather animatedly, ‘Fork it!’
Well, I must say we were all ready to play but there was no need for… Now at this point he completed his actual meaning, to suggest that the areas where the bowlers ran up needed a bit of nifty fork-work. Rumour has it that our current captain had also said, ‘Fork it!’ when his pre-arranged lift failed to turn up, leaving him as alone as a good-time girl on a street corner in the red-light district of old Chelters, where he happens to happily reside. But enough of the captain and his abandonment in this seriously beaver-infested region.
Poulton had decided that the Bays would enjoy a bit of batting on a damp strip with a sopping outfield. Chris Horner, yes indeed dear reader, your eyeballs are not deceiving you, it was Chris Horner himself who opened the innings with his long time opening
‘buddy’ as Norbert likes to say. Nobody had the temerity to mention golf as Chris walked to the centre of the ground to tee off as it were.
Sir Nobby Norbert the Nobster rushed off to a blistering start with a maiden, something his long-time partner could never aspire to these days. Their partnership however was golden in that it was exactly 50, taking up almost half of the overs. Nobby still defiantly wearing his Noddy hat, was first to go, out, clean bowled for 19 off 47 with just the single 4 and 15 hard run singles. Katie Guthrie joined Chris for a smaller partnership of 18, with Chris running Katie out for 3. A further 11 runs were added to the total before Bose removed Chris himself for 35 off 46 with five hard-earned fores, sorry fours.
At this point the heavens opened and the players dashed for cover. Toffee Chris Weyman and Steve Pritchard after a short hiatus of some twenty minutes resumed to move the score upwards to 77 before Chris W was caught for 8 and eleven runs later the captain was also out caught off Joseph’s bowling. Angus Guthrie made four off 18 and Steve Liley in at 7 made a single run off three deliveries. Thirty overs were done and dusted and the Bays had posted 94 for 5.
After tea was taken in the pavilion, the weather started to turn cold and the Bays players took to the field muffled up in jumpers and gloves (in the case of the wicket-keeper). Saunders and Twine throttled the opening batsmen’s scoring rate from the off. The first 9 overs yielded just 11 runs, with Bays latest bowling revelation taking another two wickets, removing Stephens bowled and Bose for a duck caught behind by Steve Liley. The second wicket was an action replay of a dismissal last week right down to the batsman not walking until the finger was raised. The only difference being that this time the finger was quite correctly raised.
Chris Thorp and Rod the Flying Scotsman were the first change of bowling. Chris thundering in off his usual long run in went for a few off his five, whilst Rod took two wickets for 23 off his four, an LBW of a full toss and a caught pouched by Paul Saunders.. The 14 off 10 had climbed to 86 off 20 and the game was just about concluded. Angus Guthrie bowled 1.4 overs for 6 and Poulton were over the line.
Before concluding the report, it is to be noted that a Red Kite made several flypasts to the delight of all and sundry. Drinks were summarily dispatched in and outside of the pavilion. Jeremy Clarkson’s ‘Hawkstone’ cider although of the fizzy keg variety, was cold and hit the spot and the wallet which is exactly what you’d expect from the cheeky irascible farmer.
Strangely, The George at Birdlip was visited by three of the players and the Right Honourable Chairman on their way home. The writer notes with amazement that this establishment provides Ale of the Abbot. Well, that I must say, is a coincidence and a half indeed, although nobody present was interested in halves of any description.
Bayshill 94/5
Horner C 35/46/5/0
Pierce A 19/47/1/0
Joseph 2 for 14 off 4
Poulton 95/4
Bathurst 21, Leffhagen 36*
Twine S 5/1/6/2
Macleod R 4/0/23/2
Catches: Liley S 1, Saunders P 1.