It’s a prompt departure, despite the skipper testing out how far ‘prompt’ extends. By 7.35 we’re on the M5 and two things have happened, or not as the case may be. Manning hasn’t asked for a loan in the first five minutes of the day’s get-together and neither has Clifford, both of which are highly surprising occurrences. The Photographer, meanwhile has embarked on an epic and highly erudite explanation of the social, psychological and economic impact of Covid-19 on GL3-4PF, pausing briefly for breath at Droitwich and wrapping up his plenary just as we pull off the motorway into Frankley Services.

A quick survey shows there are a couple of toasties and a few circular objects from Gregg’s being imbibed, though The Model shows the way forward by settling on a fresh fruit salad as his pre-match sustenance. The Lens dances around taking a few shots of people eating and drinking, while surreptitiously asking passers-by what a plenary is. Most frown, two grunt and a posh lady in a red dress rolls her eyes so avidly her husband considers calling a doctor. None reply.

The pitch at Ormiston is best described as ‘a fair size’ and its wide open spaces suit Wolverhampton’s nippy personnel. That’s no reason for the half that follows, however and at six down at the break, history of the wrong sort is odds-on to be written.

An improved second half display though sees Bennett net a free kick and McLarney score a well-taken second; unfortunately, his supporter is in the middle of updating Reuters with details of the goings-on in the Black Country and misses the strike, along with much of the other action. It reminds me of reporting on Shortwood United for the pink ‘Un in the early 90s, but that’s another story altogether. When the referee finally curtails matters with the score 2-8, McLarney’s effort plus some defensive hard work have staved off a record reversal. For the record, Plymouth 1-8 (December 2015) & Solihull 0-7 (September 1996) were similar dark days in the GPSFA annals. ‘We could record it as a 0-6 loss and a 2-2 draw,’ someone suggests in a fit of desperation, but both Coach Wilson and The Lens pour scorn on the most creative idea of the day.

There’s a big offering of post-match refreshments lurking in an Aldi bag in the corner of the changing room, but even though Folley makes a good effort at much of it and McLarney does well to find positive support for a tube of Ready Salted Pringles, Strensham is already on most people’s minds. There’s a table football machine outside that attracts the attention considerably more than the Aldi oranges; after thirty seconds of frantic spinning, everyone celebrates, even though no-one knows who’s won.

As we pass one of the very few ‘Services 1½ miles’ signs that adorn the British motorway network, an excited ‘Maccy D’ chant reverberates around the bus and adrenaline levels rise to an all-time high for Saturday 9th October. Strensham finds Clifford again on the scrounge, but Manning, having clearly turned over a new monetary leaf, quietly counts out his remaining pounds while buying a copy of The Economist from WHS. Vaile and White order long after anyone else, but receive their burgers/nuggets within two minutes of the rest of the group sitting down, which is a bit of a mystery that no one can quite fathom.

The ensuing eating arrangements offer a glimpse into the social status of all concerned. Hayes, McLarney, Buckland and Folley occupy a secluded corner of Costa with Coach Wilson sipping a latte some three tables away; the others are in the middle of the McDonald’s dining area with The Lens in photographic attendance. You do the maths.

Gloucester City take on Bradford Park Avenue in the afternoon in a clash of footballing giants but, unlike the morning, there are no goals, which in one way is a good thing.

Every day’s a good day, but some days are better than others. On the field at any rate, today is most definitely an ‘other’.

Gloucester A: Folley; Buckland, Hayes, Model; White, Bennett, McLarney, Manning; Vale; Clifford.