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We’ve dodged The Chairman’s bullet for another week at least, with the proviso that, ‘You take a proper coach with you. Someone who will improve the pre-match preparation, team formation and tactical awareness of the side, never mind sorting out how to take a penalty. And more than that, I want someone who will bring down the average age, pep up the slickness of the mini bus route-finding and drastically improve the looks of the coaching team.’
Stalley gets the job based on six out of seven boxes ticked, but is late for the embarkation process due to being accosted by The Groundsman, who has regaled him with his ‘Tales from the Hospital Ward’ (Chapter One) for a full half hour, before being momentarily distracted by another innocent bystander who has fatally enquired, ‘How are you?’ Stalley, completely ignoring the GPSFA maxim of putting other people before oneself, has taken the #CarpeDiem motto to extremes, seized the moment, and run.
Father Vye and Father Burgess have entered into one of those dodgy Freemason’s competitions; this one is based around who can wear shorts in the worst possible weather without turning blue, and each makes their opening gambit this morning. Their inspiration is High Definition, who apparently wore cut-offs in temperatures of minus fifteen last winter and has lived to tell the tale. Just. After flaunting their wares, the former takes over from Stalley in delaying the bus yet further by insulting a player that he initially takes to be his son, but isn’t. We eventually depart eleven minutes late at 7.41am.
Chieveley Services, and it’s cats & dogs as eleven brand new showerproofs display their worth as Pathfinder leads the yellow & black troupe into Gregg’s, as much due to his fascination with the seventh letter of the English alphabet as his desire to ingest a cheese & onion pasty. A fortnight ago it was gorillas and giraffes; now it’s a pair of expectant staff that are left disappointed, as a potential fifty quid in the till is replaced by eleven exiting footballers. ‘There’s no ‘G’ in Burger King,’ proffers a friend and confidant, but by now there are more interesting things to consider as the query is dismissed as quickly as the dreary bagful of overcooked chips with extra salt & vinegar.
The New Navigator leads us straight to the ground and pays the 60p fee at the Thames toll bridge, followed by a 40p tip designed to distract the collector from seeing that mini buses are bigger than cars and charging us £4.50 instead.
The Oratory School is a venue made all the more pleasing by its very own microclimate and it’s a bright blue sky and mid-morning sun that greets the eleven hardy away supporters that have made the trip to South Oxfordshire to constitute exactly 34.2% of today’s touchline attendance. One of the other 65.8 is David Stemp who, back in the day, was manager of The Vale for a thirty-year stretch that began when colour TV was becoming the rage and the world’s smallest microchip filled an entire room. The Vale are also largely responsible for us getting involved in all this – but that’s another story altogether.
The mood of the bus on the outward journey has been nothing if not buoyant, with a never-ending song claiming ‘Sopuru’s on fire’ being eerily prophetic as Burgess, May and Millward navigate a way through the home defence to provide the assists for a very well taken 16-minute treble from the Blazing One.
A sweet strike from Chaffey briefly reduces the arrears but another fine finish, this time from Jones, restores Gloucester’s three-goal advantage after good work in the build-up from Millward and Myatt.
While the first half brought goals, the second brings a better all-round performance, with High Definition directing from the back and Caple, Freeman and Millward with Jones just in front, looking solid. In possession, Fieldhouse, Vye and Myatt provide more width than the narrowness of the first thirty and the ball is moved with more fluency through the thirds after the break.
Eight minutes into the second period, WC, after another fine pre-match display of water carrying, decides he’s carrying too much liquid himself and has to temporarily depart the fray to take advantage of the facilities behind the bushes at the bottom of the nearby slope.
Almost on cue, Millward is felled by a blade of grass occupying the defensive central midfield position and is treated by a pair of faith healers who count his legs and pronounce him fit to continue, for the time being at any rate.
The visitors continue to dominate with Burgess, Myatt and Obieri all finding the woodwork in between a good strike from Vye following Jones’ fine pass and a sixth goal from Caple who converts the second ball after Myatt’s right-wing corner is only partially cleared. Or not cleared at all might be a slightly more accurate description.
Back in the Inner Sanctum, all the kit bar a pair of muddy socks is returned to the big blue bag the right way out and a list of suspects for the offending items identified. Never easy with socks, but a quick sniff reveals they’re Myatt’s.
The much-vaunted GPSFA sweeper position disappeared with the switch to 9-a-side some years ago, but High Definition and Jones stake an early claim for the season’s Nicest People award by volunteering to clean out our changing room using a long-handled brush they find behind the door. They also find a half-eaten Sopuru sandwich, but neither of them wants to use that, never mind eat it.
There’s a contented mood as salami & cheese wraps are consumed on the benches outside the kitchen area, while Caple quietly sips a cup of hot sweet tea with the air of a man dreaming of meat & two veg and a middle age dominated by slippers and pipe smoking.
There’s an overturned lorry on the M4, so we whizz north through the lanes heading for Oxford thanks largely to the New Navigator’s telephone directions, while the Old Navigator completes both the fiendish Sudoku and Times codeword by the time we pass Crowmarsh Gifford and spends the rest of the journey desperately hoping the NN’s compass will falter and we’ll end up somewhere in the back of the Oxfordshire beyond.
Millward, a paragon of health and well-being, demonstrates real independence by ignoring the yellow & black throng and planting himself in the Subway queue at the upmarket Oxford Service stop, only to spy Jones doing a Myatt, giving up his place in the KFC line and scurrying off to the real WC with an urgency that suggests there’s little time left before a 999 call is required. Millward’s mirth is clear for all to see before he pulls himself together and begins ordering a Big Beef Melt in an Italian Herb & Cheese baguette with extra salad and jalapenos. By the time he’s finished speaking, we’re almost ready to go.
Once on the A40, the NN tempts fate by switching off the route-finding technology and relying on the lost art once known as Sense-of-Direction, a method still favoured by the ON in between completing the day’s Brain Teasers and flicking through his latest tome detailing the rise and fall of some largely unheard-of Teutonic tyrant or other.
It’s been a good day – a fine performance, particularly the second half, in a nice setting with an outside loo. Vale have been well beaten but were magnanimous in defeat both on and off the pitch and were excellent hosts. It’s easy to be good when you’ve done well, but sometimes (much) harder when you haven’t. Facing up to difficulties, getting through the hard times and being stronger for the experience is what helps makes us successful in the truest sense of the word. Not always as straightforward as it sounds, but hugely important and a real asset for all who possess it.
And as Rudyard Kipling in his iconic poem ‘If’, almost quotes, ‘If you can meet both triumph and disaster, victory and defeat, And treat those two imposters just the same, You’ll be a man, my son!’ Google it and ponder.
Gloucester: High Definition; Subway, Caple, Freeman; Aquarius, Pathfinder, May, Fieldhouse, Obieri; Jones, Vye.
Stalley gets the job based on six out of seven boxes ticked, but is late for the embarkation process due to being accosted by The Groundsman, who has regaled him with his ‘Tales from the Hospital Ward’ (Chapter One) for a full half hour, before being momentarily distracted by another innocent bystander who has fatally enquired, ‘How are you?’ Stalley, completely ignoring the GPSFA maxim of putting other people before oneself, has taken the #CarpeDiem motto to extremes, seized the moment, and run.
Father Vye and Father Burgess have entered into one of those dodgy Freemason’s competitions; this one is based around who can wear shorts in the worst possible weather without turning blue, and each makes their opening gambit this morning. Their inspiration is High Definition, who apparently wore cut-offs in temperatures of minus fifteen last winter and has lived to tell the tale. Just. After flaunting their wares, the former takes over from Stalley in delaying the bus yet further by insulting a player that he initially takes to be his son, but isn’t. We eventually depart eleven minutes late at 7.41am.
Chieveley Services, and it’s cats & dogs as eleven brand new showerproofs display their worth as Pathfinder leads the yellow & black troupe into Gregg’s, as much due to his fascination with the seventh letter of the English alphabet as his desire to ingest a cheese & onion pasty. A fortnight ago it was gorillas and giraffes; now it’s a pair of expectant staff that are left disappointed, as a potential fifty quid in the till is replaced by eleven exiting footballers. ‘There’s no ‘G’ in Burger King,’ proffers a friend and confidant, but by now there are more interesting things to consider as the query is dismissed as quickly as the dreary bagful of overcooked chips with extra salt & vinegar.
The New Navigator leads us straight to the ground and pays the 60p fee at the Thames toll bridge, followed by a 40p tip designed to distract the collector from seeing that mini buses are bigger than cars and charging us £4.50 instead.
The Oratory School is a venue made all the more pleasing by its very own microclimate and it’s a bright blue sky and mid-morning sun that greets the eleven hardy away supporters that have made the trip to South Oxfordshire to constitute exactly 34.2% of today’s touchline attendance. One of the other 65.8 is David Stemp who, back in the day, was manager of The Vale for a thirty-year stretch that began when colour TV was becoming the rage and the world’s smallest microchip filled an entire room. The Vale are also largely responsible for us getting involved in all this – but that’s another story altogether.
The mood of the bus on the outward journey has been nothing if not buoyant, with a never-ending song claiming ‘Sopuru’s on fire’ being eerily prophetic as Burgess, May and Millward navigate a way through the home defence to provide the assists for a very well taken 16-minute treble from the Blazing One.
A sweet strike from Chaffey briefly reduces the arrears but another fine finish, this time from Jones, restores Gloucester’s three-goal advantage after good work in the build-up from Millward and Myatt.
While the first half brought goals, the second brings a better all-round performance, with High Definition directing from the back and Caple, Freeman and Millward with Jones just in front, looking solid. In possession, Fieldhouse, Vye and Myatt provide more width than the narrowness of the first thirty and the ball is moved with more fluency through the thirds after the break.
Eight minutes into the second period, WC, after another fine pre-match display of water carrying, decides he’s carrying too much liquid himself and has to temporarily depart the fray to take advantage of the facilities behind the bushes at the bottom of the nearby slope.
Almost on cue, Millward is felled by a blade of grass occupying the defensive central midfield position and is treated by a pair of faith healers who count his legs and pronounce him fit to continue, for the time being at any rate.
The visitors continue to dominate with Burgess, Myatt and Obieri all finding the woodwork in between a good strike from Vye following Jones’ fine pass and a sixth goal from Caple who converts the second ball after Myatt’s right-wing corner is only partially cleared. Or not cleared at all might be a slightly more accurate description.
Back in the Inner Sanctum, all the kit bar a pair of muddy socks is returned to the big blue bag the right way out and a list of suspects for the offending items identified. Never easy with socks, but a quick sniff reveals they’re Myatt’s.
The much-vaunted GPSFA sweeper position disappeared with the switch to 9-a-side some years ago, but High Definition and Jones stake an early claim for the season’s Nicest People award by volunteering to clean out our changing room using a long-handled brush they find behind the door. They also find a half-eaten Sopuru sandwich, but neither of them wants to use that, never mind eat it.
There’s a contented mood as salami & cheese wraps are consumed on the benches outside the kitchen area, while Caple quietly sips a cup of hot sweet tea with the air of a man dreaming of meat & two veg and a middle age dominated by slippers and pipe smoking.
There’s an overturned lorry on the M4, so we whizz north through the lanes heading for Oxford thanks largely to the New Navigator’s telephone directions, while the Old Navigator completes both the fiendish Sudoku and Times codeword by the time we pass Crowmarsh Gifford and spends the rest of the journey desperately hoping the NN’s compass will falter and we’ll end up somewhere in the back of the Oxfordshire beyond.
Millward, a paragon of health and well-being, demonstrates real independence by ignoring the yellow & black throng and planting himself in the Subway queue at the upmarket Oxford Service stop, only to spy Jones doing a Myatt, giving up his place in the KFC line and scurrying off to the real WC with an urgency that suggests there’s little time left before a 999 call is required. Millward’s mirth is clear for all to see before he pulls himself together and begins ordering a Big Beef Melt in an Italian Herb & Cheese baguette with extra salad and jalapenos. By the time he’s finished speaking, we’re almost ready to go.
Once on the A40, the NN tempts fate by switching off the route-finding technology and relying on the lost art once known as Sense-of-Direction, a method still favoured by the ON in between completing the day’s Brain Teasers and flicking through his latest tome detailing the rise and fall of some largely unheard-of Teutonic tyrant or other.
It’s been a good day – a fine performance, particularly the second half, in a nice setting with an outside loo. Vale have been well beaten but were magnanimous in defeat both on and off the pitch and were excellent hosts. It’s easy to be good when you’ve done well, but sometimes (much) harder when you haven’t. Facing up to difficulties, getting through the hard times and being stronger for the experience is what helps makes us successful in the truest sense of the word. Not always as straightforward as it sounds, but hugely important and a real asset for all who possess it.
And as Rudyard Kipling in his iconic poem ‘If’, almost quotes, ‘If you can meet both triumph and disaster, victory and defeat, And treat those two imposters just the same, You’ll be a man, my son!’ Google it and ponder.
Gloucester: High Definition; Subway, Caple, Freeman; Aquarius, Pathfinder, May, Fieldhouse, Obieri; Jones, Vye.
