Hello one and all or, as they say in Saxmundham, Yarp! What a tour, huh? Had everything, blood, sweat and beers. So much to pack in something is gonna have to give, so that'll be the cricket reports then. Where do we begin...? How about in the bar? The same bar that saw Ali down a whole bottle of rum only to pass out in his room and crack his head open on the TV table... the same bar that saw "tourist of the year" Johnny Slowman snog the bar girl in the early hours....the same bar that served the woody, oaky, dark rich pints of Adnams favoured by the real ale cognoscenti of the touring party (yawn) as opposed to the quality fizz that is probably the best lager in the world.
I arrived with Ali, Mike and Johnny on Friday evening having (note careful planning here) packed the car with quality beers and wines for the journey. We were already too late. Clint, Jamie, Bretty Angus and Silky had arrived at lunch-time and were smashed on the local cider. £1 fines for saying the words 'no', 'drink' and alternate hand drinking on the hour soon saw us notably poorer. To diner in the restaurant. Jamie very ill next days because (excellent excuse this) of the garlicy/chick pee thing accompanying his chicken. And definitely not the 6 pints of cider.... To the pub and karaoke. Messy. Preecherman doing his pole dance with nipples a-go-go. Lots of local chatter (yarp...yarp?...yarp!). To bed pissed but happy. I send some personal texts. As you do...
Saturday. Match day 1. Off we toddle to Southwold shouting the names of every daft sounding village we pass through beginning with... YAXFORD! and this became the rallying cry of the tour. Nothing against the village at all. I'm sure its v. v. nice. The locals stared as "The Iron Horses With Wheels" drive past. We wave a sympathetic wave. The kind of wave that says "I am SO glad I don't live here". To the ground, then into town for a mini beach break, then The Admiral Nelson for beers and food and to meet up with Bomber, Stevie, Paul and JW (Panther is nowhere to be seen having locked his car in his car keys or some suchlike (Mike "Fish, hmmm. bit over-done...hmm disappointing...hmm... easily done....I grow my own fish you know....in the garden....feed them on Adnams....yarp!).
The Southwold team are 1st class lads but cattle class cricketers. Yee gods. It was like a team of 11 Preachermen batting on a good-ish day. We took it easy and they got 140-odd. And how stupid did we feel when we found out one of their 'clowning' batsman suffers from MS and he STILL looked better at the crease than me. Yarp! At tea I decided the 11 batters would pick their batting order out of a hat. Some were lucky (like me at number 11) some less so. For a fiver into the kitty you could swap with someone. A good laugh.... except we nearly lost the game as our top order collapsed. Well done Angus (42) and then Johnny S and Clint for seeing us home with 8 overs to spare. Another win for the Sat XI (number 5 this season) and yes Stuart it does count as a Saturday win. Pub then back to Saxmundham (FACT: Did you know that Saxmundham is an old Viking word meaning "I want to kill myself if I stay here a moment longer"? Apparently so). A curry. The Chair arrives and we settle down to watch the entertainment ... which is Johnny S getting very pisssed then gaging on a a teaspoon of vindaloo). Back to the hotel, the bar, Ali and a bottle of rum. To bed. I send some personal texts. As you do....
Sunday and match day 2. Another cooked breakfast? So soon? The day before Mike and Ali had wine accompanying their breakfasts. So very rock and roll. I had tea myself. Off we go to Auburgh where The Chair has an early retirement home. Bomber and Clint go swimming in the sea. Lovely. Bomber comes out and he forgets he is still wearing his skin coloured bathing cap... (ho-ho). Why we didn't nick their clothes I have no idea. Wander around a bit. Then off to The Chequers at Framlingham for chips and drinks. There is a slide in the beer garden - Johnny S is happy.
The ground is lush and I warm up trying to catch rugby balls and then chasing Slowman around the park Benny Hill style. They look a crack side. All public school self-confidence and polite aggression at the crease. But all our Christmases have come at once with Jamie getting 2 wickets in the first over. Then another. Then another. To give em a chance The Chair put me on so they could at least go for 5 an over and they could make a game of it. They got 125 all out with 11 over remaining and we knocked off the required runs thanks to Bomber and Johnny S with a couple of over remaining. I leave early with Ali to follow up on some personal txts. As you do...
Played 2 won 2.
Which brings me neatly onto... The Tour Awards:
Tourist of the Year: Johhny S for high quality badinage (look it up) and banter with Preacherman, snogging A GIRL for the first time and for serious drinking and some top draw cricket including the champagne moment which was his catch at cover against Brandesden. Well played. Tour ranking 10/10
Best Tour Nickname: Gentleman, I give you Captain Nipples! Thanks to The Chair for that. My tour ranking is a generous 9.5 for providing the comic relief and my very own sex chat party line. And for using my company credit card.
Best Self Inflicted Injury: A close call this one between Mike (my backs gone) Emery, Ali (my head is bleeding) Ross and Jamie (dicki tummy) Halls. Ali wins. Tour ranking 9.5
Quote of the Tour: "The ball just has a habit of finding him... its just he's the last person you want under it" (Bomber about Captain Nipples). Bomber scores 8.5 for dry humour and for wearing his swimming cap the whole time.
Best Dressed Tourist: Could be Panther ("I can't wear brown because it make me look.... brown"), Nipples ("tight t-shirts that filled out nicely as the night goes on") and Angus ("Tesco shirt and detachable trousers!"). Gus wins hands down. 8.5
Can't Catch, Won't Catch: Me again versus Southwold. Balls a bit high. Coming to me. I shall move out of the way I think. Just awful. Hope no-one notices. They do. Oh yes they do.
Silky had the best dry witted comments of the tour, Bretty looked more and more like a local and Clint and Angus were the Chuckle Bros. Thanks god for Paula and JW for representing the more sensible side of the tour. Great fun.
Special thanks to the Bell Hotel, Saxmundham (FACT: did you know that Saxmundham is an old Suffok word meaning "I want to go home now please"? Apparently so) and the hotel staff for being so polite and so punctuall (Eat now please. Go now please. Etc), and to Clint for organising the fixtures.
The tour was great. I haven't laughed so much for ages. Mostly at myself it has to be said. Everyone wants to do it again but maybe somewhere else next year? I think East Sussex would make a great venue. Dulcie is very accommodating don't you know. Or so Johnny Slowman tells me...
Right, that's your lot. Till next time. Take it easy. And remember...
YAXFORD!
Captain Nipples
