Choice Cuts 15

TOUR SCENE WAS WYE VALLEY. Newsletter No. 59, 16th Aug 1976

It is extremely difficult to exhume facts from a memory clouded by an alcoholic mist, but I will make every effort to not distort the truth. My only saving grace is that it is unlikely that anyone was sufficiently sober to be in any position to question that which is hereinafter. A quick summary could perhaps be that 20 Rugby players made one score, rather more tries, and incurred, to my recollection, only one penalty. The full story, however, is as follows.

The tour officially started at 10 a.m. on Good Friday, and at this appointed hour there had assembled at Ruislip a motley crew of 5, including Pete Johnston, who had had 13 stitches removed from his mouth an hour previously. One of the others was a 10 stone specimen with bionic knees, who is not unrelated to the author. One by one, however, more arrived, carrying a variety of kit bags and suitcases except Tom McClaughlin, who arrived carrying only a plastic bag emblazoned with Lord Cohen's coat of arms, having told his wife that he was going shopping. The last to arrive was Dave Pullen, who had been led by Keith Westray to believe that the Ickenham Cricket Club tour was early this year. Dave got his own back by bowling the only maiden over of the tour.

Our Transport consisted of a luxury coach driven by an (ex) friend of Bert's, called Pete. Within minutes of the off, 3 card schools were in progress, and a unanimous decision had been taken to stop at the first hostelry showing any signs of opening. This turned out to be a pub called 'the Airmen', where, although many pints were downed, Al Morrison's inability to get double-one meant that only 1 game of darts was possible before we had to re-occupy the coach to continue our journey. With only one further stop, to irrigate the arid wastes of the Wye Valley, and after just enough time for Phil Goulding to win his tour deposit at 3-card brag, we came to rest at the Little Doward Hotel.

After our courier, Keith Westray, had arranged the sleeping accommodation, we set off for the first game, at Berry Hill. The first stage of this journey naturally led through the Hotel bar, where 'Stack' Jackson was soon happily ensconced in a - an activity in which he was to corner, engaged in conversation with the locals partake many times during the next few days. The Hotel bar served a fine selection of beverages, including Younger's Tartan and Samuel Smith's Special Bitter, and it was, of corse necessary to sample each of these to determine their relative merits. This long but not unpleasant task was punctuated with many choruses of Shine On Harvest Moon, an air sung with great gusto every time a certain member of the party revealed a bald patch on a head which, I am assured, has plenty of new hair growing'.

When the time finally arrived for us to complete the short trip to Berry Hill, that the best beer was we were not at peak fitness, but a decision had been made definitely that brewed by Samuel Smith the Younger. It was indeed fortunate that Phil Ludlow had arrived in his native Gloucestershire to make up the team, since of the fifteen 'fit' players who had hosted the coach at Ruislip, one was in a state which precluded the ability of playing Rugby. It is best that a discreet veil is drawn over this, the first game of the tour, but it must be said that 'they' scored all their points in either the first 20 minutes, when the majority of our team were having enough difficulty standing, let alone propelling themselves around a Rugby pitch. or in the last 20 minutes, when tired limbs and the dawning of the first h hangovers made playing Rugby slightly unattractive. In fairness to the opposition, however, I must mention that the points they scored during these sessions amounted to 58. In reply, a solitary penalty awarded about 20 yards out from and in front of the posts was magnificently converted into 3 points by Keith Westray. Afterwards, in the bar, the opposition were kind enough to say that they didn't normally play that well. The mobility of their pack was attributed to their desire to escape from the fragrance of stale alcohol which was wafting around the scrums. Their hooker also said that the reason we won so much of the ball (modesty had prevented me mentioning that before) was because he didn't dare strike for fear of someone being sick over his boot.

After restoring our pride with a bout of the singing for which we have achieved justifiable notoriety over the years, we returned to the Hotel beaten, but in high spirits. Since the day's events had not included eating, on our return Food was uppermost in our minds. Far be it from me to reveal the identity of the perpetrator of the cruelly false rumour of Sandwiches In The Bar, which resulted in several semi-clad bodies appearing from all points of the Hotel, but if Tom Roscoe ever find out that it was Blair Dunlop, blood could be spilt. So ended the first day of the tour. But there's lots more where that came from, so don't miss the next issue (if it ever gets out, that is!).

Malcolm Parish