Tall stories related at Tabard base included Clarence’s claim to have delivered a 60mph ball during the week and rumours that JNR had been out for a duck the previous day.

Then the 240 beats per minute verbal hummingbird Whippet arrived, promising a double-figure innings which would turn the batting order on its head.

Casualties at this stage, and in fact throughout the day, were low with only the battle-weary Kommander limping in late wearing the previous night’s shame as a glint in his eye.

Shakespeare

On arrival at the truly wonderful ground, the silence was only broken by a now slightly more perky and almost Shakespearean Kommander reminding anyone who cared to listen of his ‘smashing the ball into the pub garden last year, and look how far it is!’ – and of course the incessant Whippet providing the backing vocals.

As seems to be our wont these days, the Pilgrims batted first. Daisy and Ming strode out to the field under a blue sky – although the clouds were already forming in Ming’s mind as he tried to dispel thoughts of a possible ‘Duck hat-trick’. While Daisy, who is developing a fine consistency as the number one, dropped anchor at the top-end from whence a heavy tide of pace bowling couldn’t drag him, Ming was struggling to fight the demons and was soon back in pavilion with the disparity between confidence and skill throwing him deeper into inner turmoil

Not to worry though as the captain shrugged off the pressure, and apparently the darker shades of his St. Tropez tan, to perform his duty admirably. COVER DRIVE! Who else but the flamboyant Tesco was now at the crease as the team entered a rich vein of batting form. Succumbing only after paddling the opposition bowlers for a fine 28, he was replaced by JNR. Once again our fine number five delivered just over a half-century, only to be run out in a mix-up with Seedy who had come in at number nine, batting well with some outrageously overacted forward defensives.

Warhorse

But hang on! Number five to number nine? Have we not forgotten something? Well, yes and no. The interim had seen three wickets go down for four runs and the steady Pilgrim boat that Daisy had set and Penthouse had skippered so neatly had sprung a leak. The first casualty was Rocky who took the fight to the opposition but was plucked out of the air by a fine take. Then the Kommander, who had been talking such a fine game, stepped out. The old warhorse having imbibed insufficient quantities of his favourite ale before taking to the field appeared too much about his senses and was following Rocky off the pitch barely after he had crossed the boundary line.

Step forward batsman number eight. Whippet. So, his moment of truth had come. It is often said that the sign of true professionals is the uncanny ability to produce when it really matters – and Whippet was fighting a profound cause. Shifted up the order, on his shoulders rested the task of refuting the age-old cricketing wisdom that batsmen can’t bowl and bowlers can’t bat – with JNR the exception that proves the rule. The fall for only two runs was all the more tragic as, at 240 bpm, the young batsman was as white as a sheet before the cries of ’owzat had left the fielders’ mouths. But who are we to reason why?

Fortunately however, the cultured Persil arrived at the crease with clear instructions, and walloped 35 in fewer balls, adding what proved to be vital runs with Clarence, not out again on ten. All out for 205 in the 41st over.

All started well in the field with an early wicket earned by some superb deliveries from Whippet bowling down the hill. But despite some close calls the home side played themselves in and the broad-grinning Sri Lankan batsman ignored banter from behind the stumps to build a fine innings.

Thunderbolts

Matters were looking slightly worrying at this stage as the opposition raced to 126 for one before a double bowling change shook things up a little. With Persil deciding to use the wicket this week, his figures of two for 20 looked good. But not quite as good as his countryman’s. JNR had obviously been spending some time on Olympus and must have walked off with some of Zeus’ thunderbolts in his pocket. Hurling them down the wicket at the unsuspecting batsman from a six-pace run-up, almost heretical figures for a Pilgrim of five for 23 off 10 overs ensued and were much appreciated by the rest of the side.

It got remarkably close towards the end of the game as the Pilgrims gradually got a grip and squeezed the life out of their slippery opponents, pushing them to an unattainable required run-rate.

A draw was a sweet and fitting final result with cricket the eventual winner and her modesty left intact despite Whippet’s best efforts.

Astronomical

On our return to the Tabard, astronomical fines levied due to JNR’s superb performance were handed in and the team bonded once again around the quiz machine. A few beers later and having given Hangman and Blockbusters a good spanking the team turned to enjoy the company of local favourites Xero, Pammers, Moggie, Brrrrrrrreally and Hansie – who everyone will be glad to hear is looking good but unfortunately not ready to grace the field as yet.

Another good day.

Man of the match: Bully Jnr

Court Martial chair: Kommander

Fines levied: £16.75

Grazin’ with Daisy – or Daisy’s Teas

Sausage rolls with sage and thyme. This is how they’re meant to taste.

Sandwiches, and cold pork pie with Branston pickle melded in.

Cherry Bakewells, tart of tarts, mistress of the pudding race.

Twice as much as could be ate. Whoops, I’m late for fielding.