"One team in Tallinn, There's only one team in Tallinn"
Date: 11-04-2010
Venue: home
Opponents: -
Result: None
Stratford U11s travelled to Bude in
The Bude delegation, mysteriously as unwilling to play as the hapless Estonians, failed to arrive for the fixture at the first designated time, and then for the second attempt later in the day.
The coaching team, led by the aforementioned Brown, his flowing locks intact from his previous escapade as Leonidis at Banbury two weeks previously, showed that while time has not dimmed appetite or skills, sadly it has increased waistlines and whilst the coaches were never embarrassed, the heat of the midday sun and the prospect of a pulled fetlock put an early end to proceedings on the pitch. Having finally established the Estonians from Bude were not putting in an appearance, a glum and frustrated touring party put the disappointment swiftly behind them and thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of their weekend.
Usual rules for tour prohibit such talk, the usual maxim being that what goes on tour, stays on tour. But since I write this missive anonymously and having sought permission from Craig, we have decided that normal rules will not apply in this case, so what follows is a brief expose/account of our time in
The advanced party arrived in Bude on Thursday afternoon, to settle into the caravans which were nicely fitted out and very clean on a very pleasant site. They were however a little tight on space (Sam Casamassa was later heard to comment that they were sufficiently small that it was possible to cook, crap and answer the door all at the same time). The full entourage arrived in dribs and drabs on the Friday, along with a rather excited Japanese whaling fleet that appeared unexpectedly off the coast. Apparently they had heard rumours of large whales seen basking on the Bude shoreline. Like Craig Brown and his merry band on Saturday, ultimately they were to be disappointed, the basking whales turning out to be the wet suit clad Dads from
A minor crisis was averted that evening in the bar when a small international incident nearly arose from the cacophony caused by butterflies on the adjacent field disturbing the silent reverie of the camp site bingo and negotiations were required to free a certain member of the touring party from ban incurred from the helpful life style advice provided to a member of the site security team.
Saturday dawned as bright as Friday, and a bleary eyed contingent made their way to the home of Phil Vickery and eventually to Bude’s main beach having cleared out the shops of their early season supplies of wet suits and body boards. We whiled the afternoon away playing in the shallows, getting treatment for hypothermia and playing a cross between football and rugby on the beach. Further injury was inevitable, most of it perpetrated by youths on adults (boding well for paint ball later in the summer) and the most hideous foul was inflicted by the sand upon our own Craig Brown. Now I say this knowing Craig is a hardy man (I once saw him field for 20 overs with a badly broken shoulder with hardly a complaint), but to see him brought viciously to his knees by the beach when clean through on goal was a sight I wouldn’t wish to see again. Weary and sun burnt, we again retired to the bar repeating the folly of the previous evening in whispering audibly during bingo and leaving the honour of the bar staff completely intact. The comedian provided an interesting diversion, but one rather suspects some interesting questions will be asked in the households of
Sunday was surfing, and our excellent hosts at the
Some questions will remain unanswered. No one still knows who won the Grand National sweep, and the local Audi dealer in