MATCH REPORT : Parents v Curry

Parents 14-14 Curry


What a match!  Some special mentions before we get started - Robert ran to the pre-match singing and made it on time despite being 'at swimming with Danny' 3 minutes before the kick-off.  Marie made the starting line up but a late change saw Linda drop out.  The rest of the squad looked strong but with limited vocal abilities - seems that only Neil knew the 'extra bits' in 'the one about the reindeer' - and without a full complement of soprano voices we could be struggling.


Pre-curry singing started with the "Head Beardie Folksman" warning the assembled crowds (us) that absolute quiet was required throughout the evening.  Seems that we were not actually in a public bar but The Royal Oak library.  We suffered their tuneless nonsense for half an hour before we tip-toed next door to the Mother India curry-hoose.

The menu was passed round the table - everyone excitedly looked up and down the endless lists of exotic food and drink.  However Keith was in total control - from his postion wide on the right (hand side of the table) he was ordering "...13 pints, loads of rice and a mixture of stuff, enough to feed us all...".  Inspirational stuff.  The menu was not required, simplicity was the order of the day!

Rice, various bits of meat and veg and beer arrived and were completely scoffed and quaffed.  More of everything arrived and was completely scoffed and quaffed.  Eventually the bringing of stuff stopped and we were officially full, some were strangely a little wobbly.  Where to now?  Back to the library!

The Royal Oak Library was packed by now - there must have been 4 or 5 people assembled round the Head Beardie now, strumming, hooting and tooting away.  The only person pleased to see us seemed to be the profit share bar tenderess.  "Ca-ching" she said (quietly...in her head).

Our lip reading skills had improved no end though - we managed to order a couple of rounds of drinks of various flavours without actually uttering a word.  Eventually we could suffer it no more and we had to leave.  We mouthed a good-bye to the bar tenderess and were thanked wildly by the smoking Head Beardie as we left.  Gruffalo meets Hagrid.


Where to now?  Well, by this time it was very cold and snowing hard which made underfoot conditions treacherous.  A quick midfield conference decided that we should all go home now, but be aware that if the weather closed in we may have to take refuge just along the road in The Brass Monkey - surely the only place to be discussing the weather in the pre-Christmas freeze?  Amazingly the weather closed in and we found ourselves in TBM.  Phew!

With the power of speech regained and evening turning into a morning a great finishing pint of beer was shared by all.  As the clock ticked into time added on for injuries and time wasting (see earlier attempts at silently ordering 10 pints of IPA) the team ethic finally broke down and a huge snowball fight broke out on the long march home.

A fantastic evening only slightly spoiled by the snowball injuries the next morning.  Inexplicably there were no visible marks from exploding snowballs but severe head pain was suffered by the majority of attendees.  Some snowballing sharp shooter must have ambushed them on the way home.

Keith is already taking names for the summer do.