Early (for Pilgrims) on Saturday morning, a surprisingly small group mustered at HQ and began donning their dark blue, heavyweight Tenth Anniversary T-Shirts, a fine choice for a sweltering weekend, and mounting a collection of vehicles the like of which has not been seen since the last episode of The Beverley Hillbillies set off for the promised land.

On arrival at your humble correspondent’s favourite place on earth newer members were disconcerted to see two West Country ex-pats being greeted warmly by the longer serving Pilgrims – Bully and The Judge (aka The Tellytubbies) had arrived. After no more than a couple of pints The Farmer and Tickle appeared – astonishingly, since they not only had the slowest vehicle but it was starting to dawn on the other Pilgrims that no-one had told them where to go.

Keg

Ah the beauty of Aldworth! After a few more beers we were persuaded to start the game and a keg of beer was provided on the boundary by Aldworth’s captain. He promptly put The Pilgrims in and we set about his beer with gusto.

I won’t go in to all the cricketty hoo-ha, but to give a brief overview: the Tellytubbies opened pretty well, but not as well as Extras who was off and running (or not) and took us to a record first wicket stand versus Aldworth (probably). Clarence did well, Moggie showed off in front of his new family, Harold Hunt, Aldworth’s septuagenarian wicketkeeper, made two stumpings and Penthouse did very well with 74 not out, just pipping Extras to the highest score of the innings by four!

A long tea was taken during which we watched a football match on TV. England came a well-deserved second.

Sober

When cricket broke out again it was clear that the opposition had known what they were doing right from the off – only one sober Pilgrim remained. Bully took it upon himself to field with only his head showing from the wicket (as Aldworth has a huge crater in one corner of the field) and was accused of being even more away with the fairies than usual. We used eight bowlers, Moggie kept on showing off and the day fell to neither side, though all Pilgrim chat was of a “winning” draw, and, at 9pm, this was certainly our latest finish.

The man-of-the-match trophy was awarded by Penthouse to Clarence who gave it back.

Then the night got into its stride.

The Farmer’s truck appeared to be some form of James Bond vehicle as more and more gadgets appeared from it, a barbie was fired up, music happened, groundsheets and tents appeared, but more importantly the Pilgrims had been challenged!

Aunt Sally by Uno Light

It appears that there is a local pastime in those parts called “Aunt Sally” and no, it’s not what you’re thinking. The idea of the game is two throw sawn-off cricket stumps at a light-bulb-sized object and knock it to the ground, one point each time you manage it. The only problem was that by now it was far too dark to see any distance at all along the... rink? Pitch? Oche? Lane? It was decided that an external light source was required, cue Xero’s 1992 variegated Fiat Uno. The Pilgrims won the the Aunt Sally with some ease despite being heavily fined for Jugg’s Tourette’s moments.

As the night was drawing to a close all remaining Pilgrim match fees and fines were pooled and Penthouse was sent off to buy all the beer we could carry (ie every one of The Bell’s four-pint pitchers) and we rolled into our tents, sleeping bags, boarding houses and hedges at four am.

At seven am the sun came up and woke us all.

Tickle and the Farmer re-fired the barbie and breakfast was served. Someone said they fancied a swim, someone else knew a place and off we went.

Foul-smelling

A small lane down to the Thames was discovered and many people clambered over the foul-smelling ick to get in. (Your correspondent lives by the Thames and was not about to make that mistake.). If nothing else these antics appeared to ameliorate the hangovers to a great extent and Jugg’s girlfriend (Brian Juggs? probably not) stayed in a dangerously long time.

To Warfield, to the pub, a crap lunch, more cricket.

A dishevelled bunch staggered out of the dressing room, ill-fed, hungover, under-watered and having had very little sleep. The scorching heat of the day looked ominous. Penthouse knew what to do: “We’ll field,” he declared. The git.

I will go into the cricketty bits even less than for the last game. The two openers were very good and when Sven TPC got a vicious blow on the hand at close range and vented some raucous but, thankfully, clean spleen at them they hit him again for good measure, and then again for fun!

Suffice to say we used nine bowlers at a very competitive team.

Warfield no longer play the game in the same way as The Pilgrims.

Tight

Of the four bowlers used by Warfield three had the same surname. Bumpy was out having lost concentration on 48 and the Farmer finished not out on 91. The game had turned out quite tight and with six overs left the Pilgrims were still in with a shout. However our tail failed to wag sufficiently to help the Farmer home and we lost on the last ball of the day.

So one draw (“winning”), one defeat (close) and a great and never-to-be-forgotten triumph at Aunt Sally. Another marvellous, marvellous tour.

There is very little left to be said other than to commiserate with those who did not get to have a barbeque on the back of a landscape gardening truck, drink Magg’s Magnificent Mild out of four-pint pitchers and play silly games in the fields adjoining The Bell.