The Jolly Boys Cricket Club

The day starts early with a hungover Jollys squad meeting at 8:30 in the morning (yes we do mean half past eight in the morning - ed.)

But suprisingly enough we're all up &qmp; ready with a fine selection of beers, wines, sanwiches, pies, cheese, crackers, crisps and biscuits.

In other words we've got all the ingredients for a a veritable chimps tea party !

So after a pleasantly uneventful bus ride followed by a forlorn search for open pubs and a quick view of Ogs' old flat we've arrived at the ground.

Sadly though the sun has definitely misplaced his hat and it's drizzle all round.The Jollys therefore take shelter under the stand and experience the full horror of paying £3 a pint for bloody awful lager.

Quite why English sports fans put up with such blatant rip-offs I don't know... Still at least we weren't at Wembley with their farcial £4.50 pies (yes, that's FOUR pounds and FIFTY pence for an utterly bog standard pie - as sold for around 50 pence in your local supermarket - ed)

Luckily for us our erstwhile local guide Nobby, author of the excellent "From Ashes To Dust", had already been at yesterdays proceedings so knew all about the Wolf Blass stand where they were giving out free samples of their rather nice wines.

So being the semi-alcoholic cheapskates that we are we spend an hour or two sheltering from the rain and politely requesting more and more samples as we "couldn't make our minds up". Luckily the lovely ladies are happy to indulge us and we avoid being ripped off for much more lager.

Alas another pitch inspection shows the covers firmly on and the slow insistent drizzle continuing unabated...

So the decision is taken that if it's still looking miserable at 14:30 (that's half past two in the old money -ed.) that we would retire into town to watch Blackpool in the kickball playoffs.

So following a most entertaining taxi ride (where our driver got out and left us whilst he popped out to see one of his mates) here we are in a local pub.

Nobby, author of the splendid "From Ashes To Dust" (haven't we done this already ? -ed.) Baz and Cannon gaze intently at the big screen whilst trying to stave off the soporific effects of all that lovely free Wolf Blass wine (At this rate we're going to have to approach them for sponsorship -ed.)

As there's no sign of the rain abating we spend the remainder of the afternoon wandering between pubs.

Whilst en route Dave stops to take a closer look at the splendid Peter Tysoe sculpture of "The Black Horse" and then starts to berate passers by for failing to appreciate the splendid work before their very eyes !

Another view of the Black Horse where you can actally get a better idea of what it actually looks like. (the previous picture was very dark after all -ed.)

And why yes, we were somewhat "tired and emotional" by this time - hence the slightly random nature of the rest of the afternoons pictures !

See what we mean about random pictures. Is this a lovely floral display, a close up of a bizarre ladies hair do, or a gang of hippy butterflies having a love in ? I'm afraid I don't really know and I took the picture...

Well by this time we'd finally found our way to Leeds train station (thanks very much to the kind locals for giving us bum directions) to find that the bus has left us behind...

Luckily we've just enough time to get on the last train to Poulton and we're joined on the second leg by a young lady who's even more sozzled than we are.
"What a bunch of bastards you're so called mates are" quoth the lovely lass before attempting to soothe our raging tempers with some daft "train games" which involved having a post it with someones name written on it stuck to your head then having to guess who you are.

And here's another unrelated bunch of peeps who just happened to be sitting opposite us but who also wanted to express their agreement with the proceeding sentiments !

Thanks also to Colin (our guard for the journey) who was also shocked to find that our mates had left us behind.

Oh well at least we got home. It's just a shame that we didn't manage the planned last pint(s) in the Old Town Hall. Botheration...