Draws
It’s the World Cup draw in The Kremlin and Red Square is whitewashed with snow. It’ll be different at the next event, which is in a semi-warm country where heatstroke, malaria and catarrh are rife. England are drawn against a North African desert, a wide-brimmed hat and a Poppy from Ypres. Group stage exit then.
The United States are not in the pot, because if they were, they’d be in opposition to all the other qualifiers and most of those who didn’t get through as well. For those who watched TV in the sixties, Trumpton was far more popular then than it is now. Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew and all that.
Coach Wixey is resplendent in his ‘Guns of Navarone’-style headwear, though the resemblance to Gregory Peck ends there. Coach Harris appears sporting a pair of light grey moccasins that belie the perception that fashion is cyclical, while Coach Wilson is the final arrival for the very same reason that his punctuality was questioned last time out. The Photographer however has made his own way to Aqua Sulis, so the armful of ‘Utterly Fiendish’ Sudokus from the BP garage on Cheltenham Road will be retained for a future trip of non-stop chatter.
The Weatherman is the first of the important people to arrive. He’s straight into the back seat, anxious to conceal the vials of Ambre Solaire sticking out of both right and left trouser pockets. The perceived threat of receiving even more ribs regarding his climatic catastrophies is a risk not worth taking. Next in is Scarface, observant to a fault, but too nice to ask why his friend and colleague is wearing shades when the rain is cats and dogging it down outside. Last on is The Colonel, despite the seven nice ones suggesting to a man that it would be the Second Knight whose early-morning clock failed to ring.
It’s photo time with the Christmas hats and in the game’s first quarter the festive spirit is maintained to a tee as a trio of gifts is handed out and Bath lead 3-1 with just sixteen minutes on the clock. Billy draws us level following assists from The Colonel and the Second Knight, but after more presents in the final quarter, it’s left to Lisa to net with an effort that isn’t a cross and a neat finish from the Second One to claim a draw. For the second time today, the Second One’s timing is honed to perfection.
Bath’s organisation of the morning needs commending. There’s a multi-age tournament going on at Lansdown, but they’ve still found time to host two games at Odd Down, where we’ve twice come back from two down. Twos & fives, twos & fives.
No chance of a draw on the adjacent pitch, where The Yellows, cheered on by members of the bag-less worldwide GPSFA Supporters Club and those from Scotland, make short work of their Bath counterparts in a dominant display of which Archimedes himself would have been justly proud.
Twenty shirts are piled high in the communal post-match GPSFA changing quarters and nineteen of them are beautifully turned out. All the yellows are picture perfect and Man Bag’s wardrobe is numero uno in every respect.
Big Sam looks confident the odd one out’s not his, while Margaret is relaxed, knowing that, like his boot laces, things won’t be in a knot. The Colonel and the Second One have ensured parity this time around by smoothing out their kit in a display of uncreased perfection. All eyes turn to Lisa, but six is squeaky clean and then to Nureyev, but he’s not here. Kenny’s grey is folded in true M & S fashion and despite his dodgy forecasting, The Weatherman’s attire adorns the pile of prim and propers.
Eighteen Cyclopeans stare at Billy, knowing that the offending item can’t belong to Scarface, but Billy’s still wearing his. The World’s Nicest Man steps forward amidst a cacophony of silence and what isn’t said explains all. The number five has been a popular one today, both on and off the pitch. But with a final scoreline of nineteen shirts to one, the changing room result is certainly not a draw.
Gloucester: Kenny; Michael Fish, Margaret, Big Sam; WNM, Billy BS, No-Moaning Lisa, Second Knight; The Colonel. Physio: Nureyev (absent). Bag Man: Sargeant (present).
The United States are not in the pot, because if they were, they’d be in opposition to all the other qualifiers and most of those who didn’t get through as well. For those who watched TV in the sixties, Trumpton was far more popular then than it is now. Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew and all that.
Coach Wixey is resplendent in his ‘Guns of Navarone’-style headwear, though the resemblance to Gregory Peck ends there. Coach Harris appears sporting a pair of light grey moccasins that belie the perception that fashion is cyclical, while Coach Wilson is the final arrival for the very same reason that his punctuality was questioned last time out. The Photographer however has made his own way to Aqua Sulis, so the armful of ‘Utterly Fiendish’ Sudokus from the BP garage on Cheltenham Road will be retained for a future trip of non-stop chatter.
The Weatherman is the first of the important people to arrive. He’s straight into the back seat, anxious to conceal the vials of Ambre Solaire sticking out of both right and left trouser pockets. The perceived threat of receiving even more ribs regarding his climatic catastrophies is a risk not worth taking. Next in is Scarface, observant to a fault, but too nice to ask why his friend and colleague is wearing shades when the rain is cats and dogging it down outside. Last on is The Colonel, despite the seven nice ones suggesting to a man that it would be the Second Knight whose early-morning clock failed to ring.
It’s photo time with the Christmas hats and in the game’s first quarter the festive spirit is maintained to a tee as a trio of gifts is handed out and Bath lead 3-1 with just sixteen minutes on the clock. Billy draws us level following assists from The Colonel and the Second Knight, but after more presents in the final quarter, it’s left to Lisa to net with an effort that isn’t a cross and a neat finish from the Second One to claim a draw. For the second time today, the Second One’s timing is honed to perfection.
Bath’s organisation of the morning needs commending. There’s a multi-age tournament going on at Lansdown, but they’ve still found time to host two games at Odd Down, where we’ve twice come back from two down. Twos & fives, twos & fives.
No chance of a draw on the adjacent pitch, where The Yellows, cheered on by members of the bag-less worldwide GPSFA Supporters Club and those from Scotland, make short work of their Bath counterparts in a dominant display of which Archimedes himself would have been justly proud.
Twenty shirts are piled high in the communal post-match GPSFA changing quarters and nineteen of them are beautifully turned out. All the yellows are picture perfect and Man Bag’s wardrobe is numero uno in every respect.
Big Sam looks confident the odd one out’s not his, while Margaret is relaxed, knowing that, like his boot laces, things won’t be in a knot. The Colonel and the Second One have ensured parity this time around by smoothing out their kit in a display of uncreased perfection. All eyes turn to Lisa, but six is squeaky clean and then to Nureyev, but he’s not here. Kenny’s grey is folded in true M & S fashion and despite his dodgy forecasting, The Weatherman’s attire adorns the pile of prim and propers.
Eighteen Cyclopeans stare at Billy, knowing that the offending item can’t belong to Scarface, but Billy’s still wearing his. The World’s Nicest Man steps forward amidst a cacophony of silence and what isn’t said explains all. The number five has been a popular one today, both on and off the pitch. But with a final scoreline of nineteen shirts to one, the changing room result is certainly not a draw.
Gloucester: Kenny; Michael Fish, Margaret, Big Sam; WNM, Billy BS, No-Moaning Lisa, Second Knight; The Colonel. Physio: Nureyev (absent). Bag Man: Sargeant (present).
