Hello dear reader, and I must thank the two of you for your good wishes but I can assure you that I haven’t retired yet despite some people thinking otherwise.

I hope that you all enjoyed last week’s match report, penned by our original reporter, Mr Tufty? Despite some very unkind references to my performance both as a scorer and bowler you all know me well enough to realise that I wouldn’t dream of using these pages as a vehicle to get me own back. This is a factual report of Saturday’s match away at Cholomondeley, with certain incidents slightly embellished!

For years now I have visited the magnificent grounds of Cholmondeley Castle, the home of the Marquess of Cholmondeley and always dreamt of playing there. Well Saturday 7th May my dream came true. Meeting at the club at 12 noon the convoy of cars plus spectators set off to the bowels of Cheshire. For those who had not visited the grounds before it is somewhat of a navigators nightmare down the twisting B roads that you need to take. The directions in the handbook while explicate enough for those making the journey for the first time, but as a season’s visitor it was straight through the main gates, clearly marked “Private” with the words ,”Don’t worry lads this is the way in”. Having arrived at the ground I was immediately reprimanded by an elderly gentleman who kindly pointed out the error of my ways. It was pleasing to find that our brothers from Manchester had already arrived, with Zee taking copious photos of the stunning scenery. No doubt to show those back home in Manchester what the Cheshire countryside has to offer. I will return later to their exploits.

Despite us leaving at the club at the same time there was quite a time gap before we had all arrived. Travelling in the final car to arrive was young Nigel and as he stood in awe of the surroundings I thought I would impress him with my knowledge of site, informing him that the Cholmondeley family had been here since the 12th century and that the grounds cover over 240 hectares. Nigel was obviously impressed so much so that his reply was in pure Anglo Saxon!

The clubhouse is quintessential Victorian with some latter day alterations. We were directed to our changing rooms that made Timperley look palatial and decided to change in shifts. Now after two defeats, the result in part to batting first it was essential that the Duke of Wellington won the toss and to our relief Ian returned to say we were bowling. Not that he had in fact won the toss but because they, Cholmondeley only had ten men, which we later found out, was in fact nine.

Ian opened with Zee from the field end while I was given the field end. Cholmondeley progress while slow was steady and it wasn’t until the eighth over that Zee was able to claim the first wicket when Torr played on. Cholmondeley’s number three Williams-Ward could be best described as having good hand eye coordination as he swung at virtually every bowl bowled to him. However it wasn’t long before Zee accounted for the other opener Mohan for a very patient 31, trapping him in front of the wicket. Cholmondeley 43-2. Zee and I continued to chip away at the Cholmondeley batsmen and managed to bowl them out for 61. Zee 5-35 while Sorry John took 2-20. I know dear reader that this only adds up to 7, but I’ve save the best till last. The good Doctor fielding at mid off, taking in the fresh Cheshire air suddenly finds the ball being driven to him. In a flash, well I’ll let you decide, he picks the ball up aims and Upendra the number 8 batsman is run out by a mile. Precision surgery or what? And so to tea.

Duly refreshed and with the batting order sorted our trusted opening pair strode majestically out to the wicket, while the rest of us settled down to watch the commencement of our innings. However two of our flock were missing. Looking around there appeared two white dots half way up the hill heading towards the castle. Not only had we spotted Zee and Mo so had an elderly lady who got very upset that the brothers had gone off for a walk in the grounds which were closed to the general public. Our furious signalling was eventually seen and the two of them returned to the fold. I explained to the lady that they were from Manchester, to which she said “Say no more”.

Returning to our innings I can report that while the good Doctor was able to hit the ball to the four corners of the ground it was left to Mr Tufty to play the supporting roll. Now had Rob been able to connect with the numerous balls that he received, the majority of which appeared to be bowled outside his leg stump the game would have ended a lot sooner? However we were treated to Rob’s chorus of grunting, which got progressively louder as the game went on. There was certainly no chance of the scorer sleeping today! It was only fitting that Akhtar hit the winning run, finishing on 35 while Old Grunter contributed 12, with the remainder being extras from a collection of wides and no balls. So our day out in the country ended in a win. It’s a shame for the rest of the lads that they never really got a game, but as they say that’s cricket, or as Rob might say, GRUNT,GRUNT and GRUNT