Hens & Ice
‘Bring your Sunnies,’ said The Weatherman on Friday evening, shortly before the overnight deluge came streaming down in true Doctor Foster fashion. ‘Nureyev’s got a bad ankle,’ says Billy. ‘Good,’ thinks Scarface – too nice to say anything remotely negative about anyone, yet hugely relieved to be feeling relatively safe going into a match for the first time since that infamous Wycombe ‘Strictly’ rehearsal.
The rush is on for the back seats as the ones closest the door are wet; Franks gets the short straw after arriving last, though still some time ahead of Coach Wilson, who’s spent fifteen minutes at the BP garage sorting out a fiendish Sudoku, just in case the photographer wants a lift to Newbury.
The service stop at Chieveley lasts only ten minutes, so Arlo’s is given a miss, though Mr Gregg pockets another two quid of Mitchell’s mum’s hard-earned. ‘It’s clearing up,’ says The Weatherman, in yet another moment of profound exaggeration, but nobody listens.
The Black & Yellow following which makes up exactly half the crowd of 33 has little to cheer in a first half that, apart from the fine form of the HPK Alliance (the first P having replaced Nureyev in central midfield), is most notable for neither side having a direct effort on goal.
The visitors however raise the tempo after the break and Adichareh breaks the deadlock after being played in by a revitalised Second Knight and the same player makes it two following a goalmouth scramble shortly afterwards. Billy (just) ballet-shoes in from the spot following a handball in the box and three minutes later Lisa beats three players before netting from a narrow angle, having failed to utter a single moan during the entirety of his weaving run down the right.
There’s still time for Mitchell to twice finish well following assists from Lisa (definitely) and Margaret (apparently), the centre back insistent half way through his fourth post-match banana that he played the decisive pass for one of the goals. As it’s pitch black outside and we need to get back, the statistician nods resignedly and an assist is credited to Margaret’s account, though everyone sleeps easily, safe in the knowledge that he’s highly unlikely to get another.
Membury beckons even though time is moving on, and the KFC queue swells to the tune of ten plus a man with a camera. Nine sit around munching normal-sized meals when Mitchell arrives with an offering the size of a shoebox, having invested more of his mum’s hard-earned in two of Colonel Sanders’ finest creations, a normal KFC (Kyron’s Fried Chicken) & chips followed by a double fillet burger – a meal for each goal. And like in the twilight an hour and a half earlier, he finishes both of them clinically, lending even more weight to the old sayings, ‘A hen a day keeps the doctor away,’ or more pertinently, ‘Two hens are better than one.’
Adichareh, having discovered that once again he’s got more money in his pocket than he started with, proves how nice he is by buying his sister a present before deciding to keep the bouncy ball for himself. Everyone else proves how nice they are by leaving all their tables spotless and package-free without being asked, knowing full well that Nureyev will now be blamed for any forthcoming untidiness that’s discovered on or around the tables of a Moto Service Station.
‘Told you it would dry up,’ says The Weatherman, before realising we’re still inside. Nobody listens anyway.
The team depart, having left the mini bus in pristine condition, knowing full well that Nureyev will now be blamed for any forthcoming untidiness that’s discovered on, or more likely beneath, the seats of the Longlevens Community charabanc.
Sunday morning and the consultants, paramedics and physiotherapists are in and out of The Anchorage in a race against time to get the artist back on stage by next weekend. There’s a faith healer, acupuncturist and a bloke in a long white coat fussing frantically over the prostrate performer. ‘Fresh is the answer,’ informs the last resort, a store assistant from Aldi. ‘Fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh air,’ is the advice. ‘And get some fresh ice on that ankle too. You don’t want to be using any of that frozen stuff.’ Exactly.
Gloucester: Franks; Scarface, Margaret, Big Sam; Lisa, Michael Fish, Billy BS, Second Knight; Adichareh, The Colonel. Bag man: Sargeant (absent).
The rush is on for the back seats as the ones closest the door are wet; Franks gets the short straw after arriving last, though still some time ahead of Coach Wilson, who’s spent fifteen minutes at the BP garage sorting out a fiendish Sudoku, just in case the photographer wants a lift to Newbury.
The service stop at Chieveley lasts only ten minutes, so Arlo’s is given a miss, though Mr Gregg pockets another two quid of Mitchell’s mum’s hard-earned. ‘It’s clearing up,’ says The Weatherman, in yet another moment of profound exaggeration, but nobody listens.
The Black & Yellow following which makes up exactly half the crowd of 33 has little to cheer in a first half that, apart from the fine form of the HPK Alliance (the first P having replaced Nureyev in central midfield), is most notable for neither side having a direct effort on goal.
The visitors however raise the tempo after the break and Adichareh breaks the deadlock after being played in by a revitalised Second Knight and the same player makes it two following a goalmouth scramble shortly afterwards. Billy (just) ballet-shoes in from the spot following a handball in the box and three minutes later Lisa beats three players before netting from a narrow angle, having failed to utter a single moan during the entirety of his weaving run down the right.
There’s still time for Mitchell to twice finish well following assists from Lisa (definitely) and Margaret (apparently), the centre back insistent half way through his fourth post-match banana that he played the decisive pass for one of the goals. As it’s pitch black outside and we need to get back, the statistician nods resignedly and an assist is credited to Margaret’s account, though everyone sleeps easily, safe in the knowledge that he’s highly unlikely to get another.
Membury beckons even though time is moving on, and the KFC queue swells to the tune of ten plus a man with a camera. Nine sit around munching normal-sized meals when Mitchell arrives with an offering the size of a shoebox, having invested more of his mum’s hard-earned in two of Colonel Sanders’ finest creations, a normal KFC (Kyron’s Fried Chicken) & chips followed by a double fillet burger – a meal for each goal. And like in the twilight an hour and a half earlier, he finishes both of them clinically, lending even more weight to the old sayings, ‘A hen a day keeps the doctor away,’ or more pertinently, ‘Two hens are better than one.’
Adichareh, having discovered that once again he’s got more money in his pocket than he started with, proves how nice he is by buying his sister a present before deciding to keep the bouncy ball for himself. Everyone else proves how nice they are by leaving all their tables spotless and package-free without being asked, knowing full well that Nureyev will now be blamed for any forthcoming untidiness that’s discovered on or around the tables of a Moto Service Station.
‘Told you it would dry up,’ says The Weatherman, before realising we’re still inside. Nobody listens anyway.
The team depart, having left the mini bus in pristine condition, knowing full well that Nureyev will now be blamed for any forthcoming untidiness that’s discovered on, or more likely beneath, the seats of the Longlevens Community charabanc.
Sunday morning and the consultants, paramedics and physiotherapists are in and out of The Anchorage in a race against time to get the artist back on stage by next weekend. There’s a faith healer, acupuncturist and a bloke in a long white coat fussing frantically over the prostrate performer. ‘Fresh is the answer,’ informs the last resort, a store assistant from Aldi. ‘Fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh air,’ is the advice. ‘And get some fresh ice on that ankle too. You don’t want to be using any of that frozen stuff.’ Exactly.
Gloucester: Franks; Scarface, Margaret, Big Sam; Lisa, Michael Fish, Billy BS, Second Knight; Adichareh, The Colonel. Bag man: Sargeant (absent).
