5.50 Friday evening and it’s London prize-giving time. Here’s how it all pans out.

Leo Folley: 1st = in the match marks, 1st in the bowling and 1st = in eating. 3rd = overall.

Clark Vaile: 2nd = in match marks and a bonus prize for voluntarily helping with mini bus loading.

Jacob Hayes: Wins a crème egg for being nice, even though his trip was Covid-ed off.

Harry Mclarney: 1= in attitude and half a point off 3rd place overall. That little bit of bacon made all the difference, H.

Archie White: 2nd = in room tidiness, 1st = for overall effort.

Samuel Clifford: 2nd = in diary writing and winner of the bowling on Lane 10. Not much opposition there though, to be fair.

Jacob Bennett: 1st in diary writing, 1st = in eating. A budding Poet Laureate, whoever that is.

Tommy Manning: 2nd = in diary writing, 2nd = in room tidiness and 1st = in attitude. 3rd = overall. A model tourist.

Ben Hanlon: 1st = in match marks, 1st = in room tidiness, 1st = in eating. Overall winner. Lotsa chocolate.

Charlie Buckland: 2nd = in diary writing, 1st = in eating, 1st = in attitude, 2nd = in match marks. 2nd overall, two halves behind The Model.

Henry Brooks: 1st = in room tidiness. Surprisingly close to 3rd place.

Give Samuel’s prizes to someone else as he’s not present due to cross country training. Nip out to the garage later to buy some more.

Saturday morning and the working party have everything up and running in record time. Father Hayes resolves the ‘No milk’ crisis by nipping round to Tesco. Trotter takes several snaps of the workers that he unsuccessfully attempts to sell to them later. The Groundsman turns up for a Saturday morning moan.

Stevenage are the visitors to GL2. It’s a tight encounter, but they’re the better side throughout the first half, when only a fine block from Clifford and a remarkable goalline clearance from the ever-versatile Buckland keep us level.

We are more in the game after the break but only really look dangerous following Manning’s dead ball situations and a header from Clifford that goes just over. Folley pulls off two great saves to help maintain parity, but Stevenage sneak a late winner with just three minutes remaining. I’m utterly depressed, while The Photographer’s rarely been happier as his BRMMM (Big Red Money-Making Machine) is in overdrive as the Stevenage parents seek photographic evidence of their victory in The Shire, while the Caerphilly parents just seek a picture of their ever-smiling offspring.

The Chef and Deputy Chef are both happy too, as the till is ringing with a regularity that was sadly lacking at the last home game. Meanwhile, the Groundsman, for whom ‘Happy’ is a relative term, is trying to explain that the new stand (which we’ve been waiting for, for the last eighteen months) is a bargain, because we’re getting it for free, while The Chef is trying to making him understand that you get nothing for free and that’s exactly what is happening here.

By the time Caerphilly and everyone else have departed, it’s 3.15 and I decide that I don’t like this team. It might be a knee-jerk reaction, but there it is. Decision’s made. Go home, click on twitter to find Gloucester City are 0-1 down against Curzon Ashton up in Manchester. Decide that not only do I not like this team, but that I don’t like GCFC either and, to compound things, I’ve also decided that I don’t like football anymore. Gone. Done. Finished.

4.25pm. Kinger equalises up in Manchester, but the gloom has only lifted momentarily. The morning’s still there, despite the ray of sunlight at the mostly-empty Tameside Stadium. 4.52pm. Fabian Robert, our French magician who has failed to open his box of tricks this season (and in each of the last two as well, if truth be known), decides to head the ball for the first time in his utterly miserable existence and against all the odds, it’s a GCFC away win. Maybe football isn’t so bad after all.

Sunday. Run a cricket course at Hatherley & Reddings for eight hours in an attempt to exorcise yesterday’s malaise, but it doesn’t work. The cricket days are interesting beasts though, as everyone spends the first half hour comparing the results of their various football teams. There’s Crystal Palace and Sutton United and Swindon Town and Leckhampton U9s and all seem to have done pretty well yesterday. I say one of mine has, but the other hasn’t, though it doesn’t matter because I don’t like them any more and that’s that.

Monday. Pay the travel agent the balance for Jersey and spend the rest of the day doing all the work that usually gets done on a Sunday. Send the programme featuring the team I don’t like to the printer, who’s not happy because Watford lost this weekend and he thinks they’re going down, which is probably true. Update the web site, sort the Race Night, send a brief report that I dislike writing intently to The Citizen and make headway with the Jersey handbook as we prepare to spend a week away with people we don’t want to spend a week away with over the Easter holiday. Plan out tonight’s session, which is easy as half of it is Strength & Conditioning and someone else does that bit.

7.00. Coaching’s over and it’s been a strange old hour. People you’ve decided not to like ever again have been pleasant, chatty and even quite good fun at times. It’s almost as if they don’t realise they’re not flavour of the month and are carrying on regardless. Maybe they’re not so bad after all.

Get home, look up Sutton Coldfield’s results and start preparing for the weekend. Maybe football’s not so bad after all. And despite spending most of the last couple of days deciding that I really don’t like this team, I’ve now decided that I probably still do. And no doubt always will. Roll on Friday and Saturday.

The team that everyone likes: Folley; McLarney, Hanlon, Buckland; White, Clifford, Bennett, Manning; Brooks; Hayes.