Tour 2009
Tour On Tourettes!
The tour began in time-honoured fashion, at Pie Towers in Sully on Sunday morning. For the first time many years I was able to leave my car on DWS’s drive as Dave Morgan gave me and the treasurer a lift in his modest little Merc!
After arriving at Williton in record time I was dispatched to The Foresters, as there was no room at the Royal Huntsman for the likes of me…. More on that scenario later. The opening game at Crowcombe was my chance to shine. 40 overs in the scorebox (as number 11 wasn’t called on) were followed by about ten overs in the field when the Curse of Crowcombe struck again. Following my spilt webbing and my groin injury, the hat trick of injuries was complete when I turned quickly (OK, slowly) and attempted to run after the ball but felt something tighten in my calf. That was it, game over. The baby cow had struck me down in my prime, just as I was about to rip through the home side with an awesome display of guile, flight and turning it square and all sorts. We lost in a close finish and used 15 players, but maintained the record of never having to bother picking up the dazzling multi-coloured President’s Trophy. The teas were lovely, as usual and the free booze at the end was very nice, too. Thanks Crowcombe - as Arnie would say, ‘We’ll be back!’
The evening’s festivities were a bit of a damp squib, as the two hotel bases didn’t lend themselves to much crossover socializing – and the least said about the cheesy chips the better. So, we went to our separate bases and got bladdered separately (as you do).
Waking up on Monday with a teensy hangover and room mate (Doely Large-Cranium) who made some remark about snoring which I didn’t quite catch, and I went off for a limp with Donny and saw the choo-choo steam trains at Williton Station, what fun, what larks. The Herbert in the fat controller outfit gave us a run down of the timetable for the next two decades and I lost the will to live. A career as a cricket scorer is his for the asking.
The game today was at Sampford Arundel, a delightful little place with a picturesque quality about it. The team were another matter. Talk about serious! They played as though it was the World Cup Final and every ball counted, not as though it was a touring friendly against a hungover bunch of chancers from Wales. They posted a very useful total approaching 300, which we had absolutely no chance of getting. Ryan had other ideas, though, and proceeded to launch ball after ball over the fences into the stream, the fields and cowsheds. When he was out for 96 the score was looking pretty healthy. Dave Morgan played a good innings until some fat ginger tosser gave him the trigger finger just because he was in front of all three!! I feared for my life as Dave gave me ‘the stare’ and then I remembered I had come down in his car (whoops!) The rest of the game petered out a bit until the last wicket when 9 year old Buster Bloodvessel was bounced and got caught. Daddy was not pleased and told the home side just what he thought of it when they came off. The atmosphere was, shall we say, a bit iffy for a while. However, I was too much of a good sport to turn down the offer of free food at their local, so sausage and chips it was... Back in Williton those that didn’t eat at the pub went for an Indian and the rest of us settled down for some quality supping.
Day three and Dave Morgan went home, as he had done something horrible to his Achilles tendon - nothing to do with not wanting to give me a lift, I’m sure. The afternoon brought a jolly jaunt down to Stocucumber where we were joined by Matt Thomas and Quimby. Matt twatted the ball for 40 and had a nice shower before saying tara and buggering off home (Thanks Matt!) Quimby also scored 40 and took 5 wickets with 9 overs of absolute quality filth. Shae Ellis got in on the act with 68 and we actually won when Adam Slyvestibule took the last wicket with an ‘assist’ from Grandad, who was umpiring at the time! However, the highlight of the day (indeed the whole tour) was the one over of sublime spin bowling from JT Bulge esquire. 14 runs and no wickets, but it was worth it just to experience such exquisite crap. Thanks to captain Terry Williams for putting the great man on to bowl.
Back to Williton and a small select group of us went for a curry before traipsing back to the pub for more ale supping. Quote of the night was from Jimmy Ord ‘ Come on Mickey, get swilling, you're drinking like a woman!' before he lost all sense of direction and went to bed.
Wednesday morning brought rain and the last game was called off. I cadged a lift off TW and Mrs TW and fell asleep in the back of the car - only snoring mildly!
Not a vintage tour, but plenty of talking points and absolutely no chance of us not doing it all again next year.
Mick
Tour 2008
Drink, Downpours and Donkey Bites
The 2008 tour started in time honoured fashion by the meeting of minds outside Pie Mansions. The usual ‘has anyone got any room for another passenger?’ was heard and Lewis Doel was almost left behind in the confusion. Jemima and Wedge had left at the crack of dawn but soon called to let us know of an accident on the motorway, which delayed everybody.
I travelled with number one son, Paul – in fact he did the driving, which was a nice change. Passengers were Quimby (with his 97 items of luggage) and Pie, with his encyclopaedic knowledge of little known and even less cared for, non-league football trivia.
The 'What Happens on Tour Goes on Facebook' t shirts were much in evidence, even though some of the more elderly tourists wouldn't know Facebook from Faceache. The Foresters’ landlord and landlady greeted us like prodigal sons and must have been mentally counting the bar profits already.
The Crowcombe match was reduced to a 25 over thrash due to the gathering storm clouds. This proved to be a good decision, as the heavens opened just as the game finished. The opening partnership of DW Sylvester and T Williams took us to 29 (in the 11th over) when Pie was out for the longest duck known to man. Terry W carried on to become our top scorer with 35. Quimby reached 22 before being run out and then we had a bit of a collapse when Paul F and Nick ‘Biggun’ Jones were both out without troubling the scorers. A lusty 32 from Skipper Erskins gave us a respectable total of 118 for 6 after the 25 overs.
The home side’s response was kept in check by some decent bowling from Greg Tressider (1/15 off 5 overs) with hindrance from Jim Ord (0/27 off 4). Terry Williams picked up a couple of wickets for 18 in his 4 over spell, but Nathan Cuddihy was unlucky not to pick up any victims in his 5 overs (0/16). Nathan’s luck was obviously nicked by Paul Fisher as he returned figures of 4/14 off 4 overs and umpire JT was credited with an assist for the first of those wickets (LBW, caught or what?)
The final over saw Crowcombe requiring 8 runs, with only one wicket left to take. Quimby bowled two dots and then was slapped for a big 6 off the third ball. After another dot ball, the home side scrambled two singles to secure a victory off the last ball.
The Crowcombe teas were up to the expected standard and the free booze was most welcome. Little did we know, as we watched the revered multicoloured trophy being handed over to the home skipper, that this was the end of the cricket for the whole tour.
I incurred my first fine for making a complete pig’s ear of the scorebook – I had to admit it was well deserved, but I took exception at the fines for ‘being ginger’ and ‘being English’. Pie lost a shoe and was destined never to find it.
The Foresters hold a quiz night on Sundays and our select team was pipped at the post due to a final round that could only be described as ‘local knowledge’ rather than general knowledge. Questions such as ‘what’s the name of the farmer’s wife up the road’ were definitely NOT designed for visiting teams.
Onto the drinking….the first award must go to Gethin Stone for managing to stay upright in the face of a determined assault on his liver from all quarters. Waking up inside a wardrobe was probably the least he could have expected following the carnage that was Sunday night.
Greg Tressider’s heroic effort to keep up with the professionals didn’t go unnoticed; neither did the fact that he was AWOL for much of the following day.
A gallant band of all nighters set the bar at the highest level for the remainder of the tour and John Gee started as he meant to continue – in top gear from the first minute. More was to come.
Monday saw Sampford Arundel under water, so we had to amuse ourselves. I accompanied Paul, Quimby, Pie and Doely on a trip to a rain sodden Taunton where we looked around the County shop and bought some cricketing crap. The pink Crocs made their first appearance of the week – courtesy of Quimby and Doel. And the sight of our beloved treasurer standing in the middle of Taunton’s busy shopping area with his trousers round his ankles is one I will have nightmares about for many a long year. The Pimm’s Jug made a brief return before we set off for Williton. On the way back (at Pie’s request, of course) we stopped off in Sampford Arundel to have a look at where we might have played. After getting hopelessly lost we then got stuck in the mud and Pie was roundly abused as a result – the donkey bites were in evidence for the remainder of the journey (don’t ask).
A mass visit to the Indian restaurant in Williton, during which Pie managed to hoover up a whole poppodom in 5 seconds flat, preceded a second night of quiet ale supping back at The Foresters. The Geeforce was beginning to warm up by now and the gold medal was within his grasp even then, but Jim Ord was coming up close on the rails.
The news that the pitch at Bagborough was not fit for play on Tuesday came as no surprise to anyone. Various activities were planned, including golf (ok, pitch and putt) for a select band of devotees. My day was based around the annual trip to Minehead market with Doely, Pie, Quimby and Donny. The wares on display were as astoundingly bad as usual and the Chuckle Brothers provided us with some stirring entertainment throughout the day. Donny was too tight to part with any money so the rest of us played a round of Crazy Golf. Although Pie was clearly leading going into the last hole, the card somehow managed to show that I had won by one stroke. We celebrated my victory in the pub and began an earnest debate on the best type of loam to use for cricket pitches. Surrey Loam won by a mile, but Donny still held out for Ongar….. I had to excuse myself at one stage as I thought I was going to die laughing. It was touch and go but I managed to compose myself in the end.
When it was time to have lunch Donny was true to his miserly self and went to the chippy while the rest of us had a proper meal.
Tuesday night saw another mass visit, this time for a steak at the Wyndham Arms. Jim Ord’s medal prospects were enhanced following a fine display of early evening debauchery. Back at the Foresters it was karaoke night, so obviously the Welsh contingent had to sing (and I use the word advisedly). Ryan’s rendition of ‘The Wild Rover’ was up (?) to it’s usual standard - can someone please give him a copy of the words?
The Room of Doom was to come into its own that night. Massed handbags were much in evidence as John Gee attempted to take on all comers. As a result of this, in spite of an excellent late burst from Jim Ord, The Gee was awarded a posthumous gold medal for services to the Somerset Brewing Industry.
The final day began with the news that the good folk of Huish Chumpbucket had also been unable to rescue the game, so it too was called off. After an abortive trip back to Crowcombe to look for Pie’s shoe we sadly headed back up the M5 and across the bridge to be greeted by another downpour as we entered Wales.
The 2008 tour will go down in Centurion history as a bit of a washout (played one, lost one and three called off). But, as all tour veterans will know, touring isn't all about the cric.......
Mick
Tour 2007
Tour Blog (or "Always Wear Your hat at a Jaunty Angle...")
The 2007 tour was, for me, a strange affair - as I missed the first two days due to unavoidable family issues. I ended up traveling down on the Tuesday morning with my daughter, Rachel, along for the ride (she hates cricket and I did warn her, but...kids, eh!)
I arrived to tales of a heavy defeat by Crowcombe and more tales of heroic amounts of ale being consumed by certain members of the party. Nice to see some of the younger element getting in on the debauchery, it shows that the future of the club is in good hands! A pity the Williamses and the Sullivans had departed by the time I got there, but never mind.
The game at Bagborough was reduced to 35 overs due to a slight moistness on the pitch (OK, it was a lake!) We managed to win our first game at this venue for many a long year mainly due to Ryan getting a ton and losing about a dozen balls in the process. My contribution was 15 overs of quality umpiring and another 20 overs of abusing everyone from the sidelines. Daughter quickly remembered why she didn't like cricket and was awarded a fine for moaning.
Back to the White Hart where I decided that I'd better get my tour's drinking done in one night and proceeded to get ever so slightly tipsy. Highlight for me was the awarding of the 'Wanker' T shirt to Piehead for his contributions to the day. In fairness to the great man he wore it with pride.
The Wednesday brought a trip to Watchett with offspring where we consumed a low calorie plate of ham, egg and chips followed by a healthy eating ice cream. Then the trip to Huish Champflower for a nice game where myself and Quincey opened the batting. I played all round a straight one and was dismissed for 1 (but it was a classy 1!) Mr Goodway went on to get 69 (don't - the jokes have already been done) and Ryan once again hit a quick 70 to leave us on 237 at the end of the 40 overs. After a nice tea (only £20 - and paid for with the fines from Tuesday night, not bad at all) we went out to defend the total.
After a steady start the home side got bogged down and then we had a marvelous spell when Nick 'Biggun' Jones got two in two deliveries and then Ricky Griffett got a hat trick. This left us feeling pretty confident. Quimby had by this time been awarded the Wanker shirt for his woeful attempts at wicket keeping. Rhino showed how easy it was by taking two catches very quickly.
The turning point was undoubtedly the introduction of the spin twins JT and myself. We were slapped all over the parish and we managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The home side got home with a couple of overs to spare.
By this time Rachel had hidden in the car and had missed my bowling spell, so I lied about it.....and that was it for another tour.
Mick
For more tour piccies click here
Tour 2009
Tour On Tourettes!
The tour began in time-honoured fashion, at Pie Towers in Sully on Sunday morning. For the first time many years I was able to leave my car on DWS’s drive as Dave Morgan gave me and the treasurer a lift in his modest little Merc!
After arriving at Williton in record time I was dispatched to The Foresters, as there was no room at the Royal Huntsman for the likes of me…. More on that scenario later. The opening game at Crowcombe was my chance to shine. 40 overs in the scorebox (as number 11 wasn’t called on) were followed by about ten overs in the field when the Curse of Crowcombe struck again. Following my spilt webbing and my groin injury, the hat trick of injuries was complete when I turned quickly (OK, slowly) and attempted to run after the ball but felt something tighten in my calf. That was it, game over. The baby cow had struck me down in my prime, just as I was about to rip through the home side with an awesome display of guile, flight and turning it square and all sorts. We lost in a close finish and used 15 players, but maintained the record of never having to bother picking up the dazzling multi-coloured President’s Trophy. The teas were lovely, as usual and the free booze at the end was very nice, too. Thanks Crowcombe - as Arnie would say, ‘We’ll be back!’
The evening’s festivities were a bit of a damp squib, as the two hotel bases didn’t lend themselves to much crossover socializing – and the least said about the cheesy chips the better. So, we went to our separate bases and got bladdered separately (as you do).
Waking up on Monday with a teensy hangover and room mate (Doely Large-Cranium) who made some remark about snoring which I didn’t quite catch, and I went off for a limp with Donny and saw the choo-choo steam trains at Williton Station, what fun, what larks. The Herbert in the fat controller outfit gave us a run down of the timetable for the next two decades and I lost the will to live. A career as a cricket scorer is his for the asking.
The game today was at Sampford Arundel, a delightful little place with a picturesque quality about it. The team were another matter. Talk about serious! They played as though it was the World Cup Final and every ball counted, not as though it was a touring friendly against a hungover bunch of chancers from Wales. They posted a very useful total approaching 300, which we had absolutely no chance of getting. Ryan had other ideas, though, and proceeded to launch ball after ball over the fences into the stream, the fields and cowsheds. When he was out for 96 the score was looking pretty healthy. Dave Morgan played a good innings until some fat ginger tosser gave him the trigger finger just because he was in front of all three!! I feared for my life as Dave gave me ‘the stare’ and then I remembered I had come down in his car (whoops!) The rest of the game petered out a bit until the last wicket when 9 year old Buster Bloodvessel was bounced and got caught. Daddy was not pleased and told the home side just what he thought of it when they came off. The atmosphere was, shall we say, a bit iffy for a while. However, I was too much of a good sport to turn down the offer of free food at their local, so sausage and chips it was... Back in Williton those that didn’t eat at the pub went for an Indian and the rest of us settled down for some quality supping.
Day three and Dave Morgan went home, as he had done something horrible to his Achilles tendon - nothing to do with not wanting to give me a lift, I’m sure. The afternoon brought a jolly jaunt down to Stocucumber where we were joined by Matt Thomas and Quimby. Matt twatted the ball for 40 and had a nice shower before saying tara and buggering off home (Thanks Matt!) Quimby also scored 40 and took 5 wickets with 9 overs of absolute quality filth. Shae Ellis got in on the act with 68 and we actually won when Adam Slyvestibule took the last wicket with an ‘assist’ from Grandad, who was umpiring at the time! However, the highlight of the day (indeed the whole tour) was the one over of sublime spin bowling from JT Bulge esquire. 14 runs and no wickets, but it was worth it just to experience such exquisite crap. Thanks to captain Terry Williams for putting the great man on to bowl.
Back to Williton and a small select group of us went for a curry before traipsing back to the pub for more ale supping. Quote of the night was from Jimmy Ord ‘ Come on Mickey, get swilling, you're drinking like a woman!' before he lost all sense of direction and went to bed.
Wednesday morning brought rain and the last game was called off. I cadged a lift off TW and Mrs TW and fell asleep in the back of the car - only snoring mildly!
Not a vintage tour, but plenty of talking points and absolutely no chance of us not doing it all again next year.
Mick
Tour 2008
Tour 2008
Drink, Downpours and Donkey Bites
The 2008 tour started in time honoured fashion by the meeting of minds outside Pie Mansions. The usual ‘has anyone got any room for another passenger?’ was heard and Lewis Doel was almost left behind in the confusion. Jemima and Wedge had left at the crack of dawn but soon called to let us know of an accident on the motorway, which delayed everybody.
I travelled with number one son, Paul – in fact he did the driving, which was a nice change. Passengers were Quimby (with his 97 items of luggage) and Pie, with his encyclopaedic knowledge of little known and even less cared for, non-league football trivia.
The 'What Happens on Tour Goes on Facebook' t shirts were much in evidence, even though some of the more elderly tourists wouldn't know Facebook from Faceache. The Foresters’ landlord and landlady greeted us like prodigal sons and must have been mentally counting the bar profits already.
The Crowcombe match was reduced to a 25 over thrash due to the gathering storm clouds. This proved to be a good decision, as the heavens opened just as the game finished. The opening partnership of DW Sylvester and T Williams took us to 29 (in the 11th over) when Pie was out for the longest duck known to man. Terry W carried on to become our top scorer with 35. Quimby reached 22 before being run out and then we had a bit of a collapse when Paul F and Nick ‘Biggun’ Jones were both out without troubling the scorers. A lusty 32 from Skipper Erskins gave us a respectable total of 118 for 6 after the 25 overs.
The home side’s response was kept in check by some decent bowling from Greg Tressider (1/15 off 5 overs) with hindrance from Jim Ord (0/27 off 4). Terry Williams picked up a couple of wickets for 18 in his 4 over spell, but Nathan Cuddihy was unlucky not to pick up any victims in his 5 overs (0/16). Nathan’s luck was obviously nicked by Paul Fisher as he returned figures of 4/14 off 4 overs and umpire JT was credited with an assist for the first of those wickets (LBW, caught or what?)
The final over saw Crowcombe requiring 8 runs, with only one wicket left to take. Quimby bowled two dots and then was slapped for a big 6 off the third ball. After another dot ball, the home side scrambled two singles to secure a victory off the last ball.
The Crowcombe teas were up to the expected standard and the free booze was most welcome. Little did we know, as we watched the revered multicoloured trophy being handed over to the home skipper, that this was the end of the cricket for the whole tour.
I incurred my first fine for making a complete pig’s ear of the scorebook – I had to admit it was well deserved, but I took exception at the fines for ‘being ginger’ and ‘being English’. Pie lost a shoe and was destined never to find it.
The Foresters hold a quiz night on Sundays and our select team was pipped at the post due to a final round that could only be described as ‘local knowledge’ rather than general knowledge. Questions such as ‘what’s the name of the farmer’s wife up the road’ were definitely NOT designed for visiting teams.
Onto the drinking….the first award must go to Gethin Stone for managing to stay upright in the face of a determined assault on his liver from all quarters. Waking up inside a wardrobe was probably the least he could have expected following the carnage that was Sunday night.
Greg Tressider’s heroic effort to keep up with the professionals didn’t go unnoticed; neither did the fact that he was AWOL for much of the following day.
A gallant band of all nighters set the bar at the highest level for the remainder of the tour and John Gee started as he meant to continue – in top gear from the first minute. More was to come.
Monday saw Sampford Arundel under water, so we had to amuse ourselves. I accompanied Paul, Quimby, Pie and Doely on a trip to a rain sodden Taunton where we looked around the County shop and bought some cricketing crap. The pink Crocs made their first appearance of the week – courtesy of Quimby and Doel. And the sight of our beloved treasurer standing in the middle of Taunton’s busy shopping area with his trousers round his ankles is one I will have nightmares about for many a long year. The Pimm’s Jug made a brief return before we set off for Williton. On the way back (at Pie’s request, of course) we stopped off in Sampford Arundel to have a look at where we might have played. After getting hopelessly lost we then got stuck in the mud and Pie was roundly abused as a result – the donkey bites were in evidence for the remainder of the journey (don’t ask).
A mass visit to the Indian restaurant in Williton, during which Pie managed to hoover up a whole poppodom in 5 seconds flat, preceded a second night of quiet ale supping back at The Foresters. The Geeforce was beginning to warm up by now and the gold medal was within his grasp even then, but Jim Ord was coming up close on the rails.
The news that the pitch at Bagborough was not fit for play on Tuesday came as no surprise to anyone. Various activities were planned, including golf (ok, pitch and putt) for a select band of devotees. My day was based around the annual trip to Minehead market with Doely, Pie, Quimby and Donny. The wares on display were as astoundingly bad as usual and the Chuckle Brothers provided us with some stirring entertainment throughout the day. Donny was too tight to part with any money so the rest of us played a round of Crazy Golf. Although Pie was clearly leading going into the last hole, the card somehow managed to show that I had won by one stroke. We celebrated my victory in the pub and began an earnest debate on the best type of loam to use for cricket pitches. Surrey Loam won by a mile, but Donny still held out for Ongar….. I had to excuse myself at one stage as I thought I was going to die laughing. It was touch and go but I managed to compose myself in the end.
When it was time to have lunch Donny was true to his miserly self and went to the chippy while the rest of us had a proper meal.
Tuesday night saw another mass visit, this time for a steak at the Wyndham Arms. Jim Ord’s medal prospects were enhanced following a fine display of early evening debauchery. Back at the Foresters it was karaoke night, so obviously the Welsh contingent had to sing (and I use the word advisedly). Ryan’s rendition of ‘The Wild Rover’ was up (?) to it’s usual standard - can someone please give him a copy of the words?
The Room of Doom was to come into its own that night. Massed handbags were much in evidence as John Gee attempted to take on all comers. As a result of this, in spite of an excellent late burst from Jim Ord, The Gee was awarded a posthumous gold medal for services to the Somerset Brewing Industry.
The final day began with the news that the good folk of Huish Chumpbucket had also been unable to rescue the game, so it too was called off. After an abortive trip back to Crowcombe to look for Pie’s shoe we sadly headed back up the M5 and across the bridge to be greeted by another downpour as we entered Wales.
The 2008 tour will go down in Centurion history as a bit of a washout (played one, lost one and three called off). But, as all tour veterans will know, touring isn't all about the cric.......
Mick
Tour 2007
Tour Blog (or "Always Wear Your hat at a Jaunty Angle...")
The 2007 tour was, for me, a strange affair - as I missed the first two days due to unavoidable family issues. I ended up traveling down on the Tuesday morning with my daughter, Rachel, along for the ride (she hates cricket and I did warn her, but...kids, eh!)
I arrived to tales of a heavy defeat by Crowcombe and more tales of heroic amounts of ale being consumed by certain members of the party. Nice to see some of the younger element getting in on the debauchery, it shows that the future of the club is in good hands! A pity the Williamses and the Sullivans had departed by the time I got there, but never mind.
The game at Bagborough was reduced to 35 overs due to a slight moistness on the pitch (OK, it was a lake!) We managed to win our first game at this venue for many a long year mainly due to Ryan getting a ton and losing about a dozen balls in the process. My contribution was 15 overs of quality umpiring and another 20 overs of abusing everyone from the sidelines. Daughter quickly remembered why she didn't like cricket and was awarded a fine for moaning.
Back to the White Hart where I decided that I'd better get my tour's drinking done in one night and proceeded to get ever so slightly tipsy. Highlight for me was the awarding of the 'Wanker' T shirt to Piehead for his contributions to the day. In fairness to the great man he wore it with pride.
The Wednesday brought a trip to Watchett with offspring where we consumed a low calorie plate of ham, egg and chips followed by a healthy eating ice cream. Then the trip to Huish Champflower for a nice game where myself and Quincey opened the batting. I played all round a straight one and was dismissed for 1 (but it was a classy 1!) Mr Goodway went on to get 69 (don't - the jokes have already been done) and Ryan once again hit a quick 70 to leave us on 237 at the end of the 40 overs. After a nice tea (only £20 - and paid for with the fines from Tuesday night, not bad at all) we went out to defend the total.
After a steady start the home side got bogged down and then we had a marvelous spell when Nick 'Biggun' Jones got two in two deliveries and then Ricky Griffett got a hat trick. This left us feeling pretty confident. Quimby had by this time been awarded the Wanker shirt for his woeful attempts at wicket keeping. Rhino showed how easy it was by taking two catches very quickly.
The turning point was undoubtedly the introduction of the spin twins JT and myself. We were slapped all over the parish and we managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The home side got home with a couple of overs to spare.
By this time Rachel had hidden in the car and had missed my bowling spell, so I lied about it.....and that was it for another tour.
Mick
For more tour piccies click here
A Fine Body of Men
"Tales from the Tour" - 2006
by Mick (Looking Sharp) Fisher
Sunday
I started my tour at 10.15am by picking up young Quimby, followed by Lord and Lady Eskins and rendezvousing with assorted other Centurion types at Pie Towers. The journey was punctuated by a music trivia quiz extrordinaire. We decided that we were all quite sad really. When we crossed the bridge that old wag Erskins offered to pay the toll into England (what a guy!) As Mr and Mrs E had decided to come a day early we discovered that the White Hart (newly gentrified) had no spare rooms for them. We tried the pub across the road and there was no room at that inn either. We didn't even have a stable or a manger to rest in. Then after some frantic calls a room was found in The Old Rectory, Huish Champflower - 4 miles as the crow flies, but about 25 if you take the windy country roads! So, armed with a map and a leaflet for the Quince Honey Farm ("you've never seen so many bees!") we set off.
After what seemed like a day and a half we finally found the place and they booked in. Then on to Timberscombe for the first match. We batted first and Quimby reached 70 (in true test match fashion) I got an exquisite 6 (that's six runs in total, not A SIX!) and Donny sat in the box moaning about the lack of help to do scoring. After a tea that set us back £50 (I'm not kidding) we bowled pretty well and actually won the match. Highlights for me were JT's scintillating overs and the complete lack of anyone remotely resembling Sammy German. Then, back to the White Hart for food, fines, Pimms, beer, etc, etc.
After keeping room-mate Piehead awake all night with my snoring I trundled down to breakfast and had the Full Monty (of course). No match today, so most of us went to play 10 pin bowling. I managed to be even worse at this sort of bowling than at the cricketing variety and finished a very poor last - but I was looking sharp! On the way back I managed to get lost in the car park (yes, I was fined for it). A steady afternoon/evening/late night session was enlivened by the arival of Sean, Zimbo, Mini Mash, Nathan Cud and Zidane and all the Thomas family. I was nowhere in the 'What time will Mr Davies arrive' sweepstake. Highlights were 'Who's that coming over the hill, is it a Beadon?' and Quimby claiming innocence over his non appearance at the 2nd XI match.
Tuesday morning on tour for me means the traditional visit to Minehead for the market with Don. This year Pie came along too, what joy! We were totally underwhelmed by the wares on display and Donny nearly went down clutching his wallet when it was announced that a mug of tea was 90p. On the way back I was thoroughly entertained by the 'banter' between the Sylvester siblings (more was to come!) We made our way to Crowcombe (famed for legendary teas and my 5 for 20 of three years ago, but I don't like to talk about it). The teas were excellent, but our bowling wasn't, as they rattled up 261 in the 40 overs. The batting was ambling along when I joined Sean at the crease. Whilst attempting a run I felt something go 'ping' in my groin and I collapsed dramatically, losing control of the bat which bounced over the stumps and nearly took the 'keeper's head off. As I lay prostrate I could hear Ryan's hysterical laughter and skipper Eskins calling for a camera. I retired hurt, but I later found that I'd actually been run out - and, yes, I got fined for this too. Eskins and Zimbo put on a lot of runs for the last wicket and nearly pulled it off (oo'er matron) but Zimbo was caught on the boundary with a few more runs still required, so we were defeated. Then it was off to the Crowcombe local where I 'willingly' bought JT the traditional half of cider. The journey back with the Chuckle Brothers and Quimby was a classic. Dave and Don were in fine form - scoring points off each other at will. Most of us went to the Indian in Williton for nice meal. Then back to Wiveliscombe for more drinks and stuff. By now the Pimms was completely sold out. Highlights were Shae annoying Donny all day, Piehead calling the waiter 'Gupta' (cringe) and Quimby and Ryan hitting each other with their handbags!!
Wednesday
The final day of the tour brought with it the promise of rain. We all went to Taunton for a stroll and I managed to get lost again. However, by cunningly playing on my poorly groin I managed to get free disabled parking next to the County Ground. Lady Eskins of Teifi went shopping, causing David E to fret. Relief all round when it is discovered that she's not spent the entire bank balance. A coffee at the 'Flying Aubergine' (you couldn't make these names up!) served by the strange looking waitress was the undoubted morning highlight. Then it was on to Bagborough for the match I sat this one out (groin, you know) and watched as the home side piled up a few runs, with the young ginger lad getting 178 (Muzzy Power). Then in a bit of a reprise from the previous day, we had a blinding run fest. Ryan top scored with 70 and it looked like a dramatic finish would be on the cards - but the rains came down and that was end of sports for the tour.
The journey home was more subdued, but we managed a few more rounds of trivia before arriving in Barry amid pouring rain.
So, another tour ends - it was a classic as far as I'm concerned. To those who shared it with me, thanks. It's been emotional.
Mick
