It’s an early departure from GL2, but White and Clifford are both present and correct even earlier than that, and as such are invited to make the eagerly-anticipated seat allocation withdrawals (SAWs) from the big, white, plastic bag. The new, canary-yellow nameplates make the ceremony look a bit like the Post Code Lottery draw, though in this case, wherever they sit, everyone’s a winner. Well, nearly everyone, anyway.

We veer off the A417 at the A46 turning where, much to the bewilderment of Folley, amongst others, The Photographer emerges out of the early-morning mist and climbs into the passenger seat alongside Coach Wilson’s fiendish sudoku. ‘Where did you come from?’ asks someone who shall remain nameless. ‘Do you live by the side of the road?’ asks another anonymous player. ‘Have you brought your wallet?’ asks one of the people in the front.

Traffic is light on both the A419 and M4 and we rack up at Chievely Services at a tad before twenty to nine. The party splits between Gregg’s, M & S and the doughnut machine, while The Lens can’t wait to get his card out for the bacon rolls at the West Cornwall Pasty Company, his cogs quickly concluding that this is likely to be the far cheapest meal of the day and he needs to get in quick. Across the way in Costa, there’s a lady who’s the spitting image of the skipper’s nan, but a quick right-to-left scan confirms that Geoff’s not in attendance, so quite clearly, it isn’t.

It’s nine-fifteen and nine players exit the service building, with only Clifford not in attendance. ‘He’s taken himself off to the toilet,’ explains Folley. ‘Do you want me to go back in and stand outside the cubicle?’

We’re on the A339, heading out of historic Newbury and the landmarks around here are aplenty. Highclere Castle, where Downton Abbey was filmed, is away to the right, while an impressive-looking sign informs us we’re just about to enter Jane Austen country. ‘My mum gets her bread from there,’ offers a Longlevens person, with a confidence that completely belies his understanding. ‘Austen, not Pantry,’ grunts Coach Wilson, whose disgust is clear by the ‘robust’ way he inserts the final ‘9’ to complete yet another awayday puzzle. ‘She wrote Pride & Prejudice, amongst other things,’ he concludes, while The Photographer nods his head enthusiastically as he files away yet another fact ready for the annual Christmas Quiz in the Abbotswood Community Centre. ‘That’s three facts now,’ he beams, to no-one in particular.

We’re at another Covid-Closed Changing Room venue, so take up residence in a corridor that’s thankfully, in Nice Harry McLarney’s case, right next to the gents’ toilet. Suddenly, like The Lens before him, Vaile emerges out of the corridor wall, armed with a mid-morning smile and a new pair of black & blue boots, a colour scheme that elicits the first signs of a complimentary smile from Coach Wilson. Vaile’s overslept, so has been transported directly to deepest Hampshire in a 4 x 4, stopping off at Sports Direct on the way to buy a pair of boots to replace the ones he’s forgotten to pack. He’ll find the original ones later this afternoon, nestling beneath his bedside table, just inches from the alarm clock he forgot to set before indulging in an extended bout of Friday night shut-eye.

We scrap away in the first half where there’s little to choose between the sides, with just a single scoring chance each: White’s drive skims past the keeper’s right-hand post, while Folley, who’s recovered well following some overnight TLC from the nurses at the Longford Lane Medical Centre, produces an excellent close-range save to deny Jeffs. It’s a half in which no-one seems to want to head the ball and several people are struggling to kick it, which is unsurprising, as a cursory inspection reveals it’s as hard as an igneous rock.

Half time arrives and the refreshment box is stripped bare in thirty seconds flat, which is about the total length of the home side’s half-time analysis and R & R break. Appearing somewhat rejuvenated after their five-minute reflection, four and a half minutes of which Basingstoke have spent standing around ready to restart, Gloucester apply the early pressure, Manning’s free kick being well defended at the near post before the game’s decisive moment – Bennett’s drive from the edge of the box is only half-saved by the home keeper and Buckland, who arrived at GL2 earlier this morning with a left-to-right fringe that made him look for all the world like an underpaid extra from ‘The Great Gatsby’, is on hand to apply the finishing touch. The ten Gloucester fans amongst a sell-out crowd of nineteen, one of the lowest attendances in GPSFA history, applaud enthusiastically, while The Lens captures the moment for posterity by snapping a photo of Buckland’s back with the rock nestling sedately in the corner of the Basingstoke net.

Bennett almost provides his second assist of the day, freeing Brooks five minutes later, but the striker’s effort is just too high, before Basingstoke respond with a fair amount of huff-and-puff of their own. The visitors, however, with Hayes again to the fore, defend well to prevent the hosts creating another clear scoring opportunity and in so doing register their third 1-0 win of the season and their fourth clean sheet in their last five games.

To celebrate their victory, Team Glawwws decide to indulge in an impromptu, 15-minute, post-match kickabout, which means that by the time we return to the corridor, everything’s locked up and the players are forced to change back into their tracksuits on a dry spot just outside the school’s side entrance. Only Clifford finds this a chore, as he struggles to locate his tracksuit bottoms, which eventually turn up in the bottom of White’s kit bag. Buckland has no trouble locating his, but seems averse to want to put them on, while Brooks asks around, trying to discover if there’s an outside loo anywhere within a mile of the car park. ‘Go behind the bush,’ suggests Coach Wilson. ‘I can’t,’ replies Bobby. ‘Why not?’ enquires CW, while carefully folding the ‘Mind Games’ section of The Times, so that only the clues and the crossword itself are visible. ‘Because it’s the other one,’ says Brooks, as if that explains everything in the lavatorial stakes, before deciding to see if he can ‘hang on’ until Membury.

Fifty-five minutes later, we’re disembarking on familiar ground, firstly making a team trek past Starbucks into the very well-appointed toilet block, then up the escalator to a GPSFA Nirvana that sees Burger King, KFC and Harry Ramsden’s plonked in a line right next to one another. Brooks joins us ten minutes later.

‘It only takes cards,’ comes the plaintive cry just seconds after we’ve attacked the push-button ordering machines – Bennett, Vaile, Manning, Hayes, Brooks and Buckland all asking to borrow the plastic, before whispering: ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back later.’ The Model, McLarney and Clifford resolve matters for themselves by going to the counter, while Folley and White plump for Harry Ramsden’s, which thankfully operates in a more traditional manner and takes cash.

The Lens pontificates over whether to have cod without chips or cod with chips and when that dilemma is eventually resolved, pontificates whether to have mushy peas or gravy. ‘Are you paying?’ he asks, nodding at the purple thing with Visa emblazoned across the middle. ‘Yes? That’s good – I’ll have both, then, please,’ he confirms, trying desperately hard to camouflage his Cheshire-Cat smile, having mentally calculated that the current £17.98 bill minus this morning’s £6.24 charge equals a decent day’s work in the food-buying stakes and he’s got a ‘free’ side order into the bargain.

Meals are received and debts repaid, though Bennett, doing a pretty good impression of the errant miser in Dickens’ Christmas Carol, nearly has an anaphylactic reaction when the money-lender informs him that he doesn’t have enough change to repay him immediately and he’ll have to get the coinage off Bobby Brooks, who is himself in debt to the money-lender. It doesn’t stop the skipper putting most of the rest of his change in the ‘Grabber’ machine five minutes later however, as he vainly attempts to win himself yet another cuddly toy.

There’s been less singing on this trip than any of the previous excursions, but there’s still time for brief renditions of an ‘Ippy, Ippy, I’ football song that seems to include everyone’s name and position, an impressively melodic round of ‘Feed the World’, an old favourite in ‘We Love the Earth’ (though ‘favourite’ might be a bit of an exaggeration) and a Christmas song so forgettable, it can’t even be identified. The Druid and The Model rest their heads on their pillows as the melodies fill the interior of the fun bus, while NJH simply pulls his snood over his face and goes to sleep in a brave attempt to minimise the decibel-assault on his auditory glands. ‘I’ll bring a pillow of my own the next time we’re away,’ he concludes. ‘At least I can push one ear into it.’

We pull into GL2 fully sixty seconds ahead of the designated return time, having deposited The Photographer in a bus stop opposite the Cross Hands in Brockworth and driven away before he can flog us a picture. Folley is first off and makes a beeline for the library facilities, while the remaining ten players make a beeline for Mother Folley’s adopted puppy, before climbing into their respective vehicles and heading off to various parts of the city to count down the Saturday evening seconds until ‘Strictly’ finishes.

I return the mini bus to the Community Centre and wander back past the library, glancing in through the automatic doors that slide open as soon as you stand in front of them. Inside, there’s a nice lady with a pale face and furrowed brow, who’s sticking yellow, police-style tape over the entrance to the gents before hanging a hand-written sign on the toilet door handle. ‘Out of action until further notice,’ the message informs us. Let’s hope she’s referring to the facility that’s just been visited by our goalkeeper and not to our goalkeeper himself. We’ve got Afan Nedd next week and I’ve got a feeling we might just need him.

Gloucester A: The Philosopher; The Mac, NJH, The Model; The Druid, The Bingo Caller, The Miser, The Physio; The Genealogist; The Great Gatsby, Das Boot.