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FALLING LEAVES AND SHORTER DAYS.

FALLING LEAVES AND SHORTER DAYS.

Stuart Vernon13 Nov 2019 - 19:32
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After the Penrith fixture momentum stalled but the Alies remained at the controls.

The “Bill McLaren Foundation” Charity Dinner was well attended, the main bar was impressively decorated, a number of Alies were in attendance who in turn mingled with a large contingent of club members, guests and sponsors.

Doctor Foster had returned from cavorting around the Greek Islands and was in the company of two beautiful ladies who were attacking the contents of a Prosecco wine bucket with a single mindedness that unfortunately the beer drinking Doctor Foster tried to keep pace with. The effects were only too evident the following day when he sat quietly in a corner, staring into space, eventually succumbing to a pint of the hair of the dog.

Ahead of the Penrith game the Major plonked down a few bottles of red during the pre match lunch to celebrate his birthday the previous day, a noble gesture much appreciated by the Chief Photographer, but a real challenge for the good Doctor, who by the end of the game had thankfully recovered.

All the Cumbrians were in good heart before and after the game and were well looked after by Matron, with everyone getting excited about the visit to Winters Park in February. Morse was in fine form and when the Accountant eventually joined the Alies further along the East Terrace his knowledge on the laws of the game were expansive, in particular when related to the scrummage; easier he said that sorting out the Major’s books!

After the game Gilly and Doctor Foster were displaying their IT skills but trying to link Vale’s Wi-Fi into their phones was proving a challenge as was sorting out the beers for the round when the Blonde went off. On the topic of alcohol intake the Platelayer voiced his concerns about the wine consumption on away games as he was not used to diving under the duvet at eight o’clock on a Saturday and thus being unable to visit any of his usual haunts in the dark side of Bare to catch up on the gossip which swirls around the area.

Plans were well advanced for the trip to Broughton Park but the euphoria following England’s victory against New Zealand was slightly dampened when news filtered through that Park’s ground was waterlogged causing the game to be postponed. Number ones were returned to the wardrobe, timing for Cocktail Hour was confirmed and when the Major and Press Secretary arrived the Accountant had already lined up the Blonde.

Woggle rocked up with a two tins full of freshly baked fancies, the Halloween Specials proving very popular in what became a very busy Maurice Armstrong County Bar. The boys were whooping it up in Swazzer’s corner, downing a few shots and whiskey chasers in addition to comparing blood pressure and pulse rate readings using a smart watch, luckily the Alies were not invited to extend their arms.

As it was, the only limb to be exposed was the Accountant’s dainty wrist when he whipped his sleeve up and clamped his fingers firmly around the bezel on his time piece to announce he was turning back his chronometer ahead of the end of British Summer Time. This of course gave him an extra hour with the Blonde before staggering off home with a couple of “Café Crème’s” hanging off his lips.

Even though there was an added time under the counterpane for the Alies they were unable to yank it off in time for bacon butties and a bottle of red in the clubhouse ahead of the England, South Africa final, but they arrived later in the day for a sorrow drowning Cocktail Hour. However, Maximus was in no mood to wrestle with the “Kleenex” because he had placed a few quid on the Boks lifting the Webb Ellis Trophy before the tournament began, as his betting slip confirmed.

Everything was still in full swing when the Alies arrived, the Round Table was full but Gilly and the Major eased themselves into seats by the window. The Press Secretary was dispatched to find a towel to wipe the table down as something was dripping down Gilly’s leg, he returned with a enormous blue “toilet” roll to dry Gilly out while the Major ordered the Blonde.

A soggy Doctor Foster emerged from the stand after watching the Vets strutting their stuff, to announce that his “Scarlet Pimpernel” clobber had been consigned to the wardrobe for a few months. In the meantime the Alies displayed amazing footwork on their way to and from to the bar to side stepping the toddlers who were clearly enjoying themselves and snaking all around the clubhouse, as was a beaming Major, who switched into granddad mode.

Eventually a move was made to the Round Table, yet more wiping down was required, again the Press secretary was despatched and reminded to bring along some beer mats, thankfully he was not required to assist the Accountant who was venting away quit happily throughout the afternoon.

Plans were aired for pre Christmas bonding, a couple of venues were floated, number one being a return to The Crossing, providing the Press Secretary promised not to grapple with the extinguishers or a cultural wander round Lancaster Brewery.

With the Press Secretary having being given the all clear by the management at The Crossing and a promise by the Alies to make sure he had something to eat, the vote went in favour of a return on Election Day. It could well be a case of exchanging a cross for a crossing to watch the terrifying iron horses hurtle northbound carrying sacks of parsnips to Penrith and carrots to Carlisle, or the southbound expresses with bottles of Lapthroaig for Lancaster and boxes of porridge for Preston.

Kendal and Vale Vets were in fine form, tippling and toppling in the Boat Race with challenges flying in all directions, where any disappointments that had been experienced during the day were cast aside like a well worn jock strap; this was the grass roots rugby experience at its blooming best.

Phil was strumming away in the background, Georges Simenon was scribbling away on his latest plot line, Handsome Karl was organising the party games and it was great to see Arthur, former Kendal President. It was the redoubtable Arthur who did his upmost to reduce the Alies on his table to jabbering wrecks both before and after the game last September at the “Mint Bridge Plaza,” with copious quantities of quality grape. Even by the Alies standards, this was indeed a savage session. What a pity the game interfered, but it did come, it must be said, as a blessed relief to some!

The first game in November coincided with kick off times moving to 14.15 hours, a step change that plays merry hell with the Alies’ Circadian Rhythms. Their body clocks take a while to adjust to a simultaneous equation where x equals the number of pints or bottles of wine, with y relating to time. Obviously Newton, Einstein and Fibonacci would take in their stride but without the use of log tables, Napier or Cuisenaire Rods the Alies were forced to wrestle with the problem that gradually disappeared as Blonde became the only significant number in town.

Now that the chariot was back in the coach house and the drums had stopped beating it was back to normal. Wally returned from the Land of the Rising Sun, minus a white silk scarf wound round his neck, after giving the Japanese bookies and the Nippon Stock Exchange a good run for their money, and ready to display his diplomatic skills to address any problems that might have surfaced during his Cherry Blossom excursion. Who knows, there could be plans for a Sushi and Saki bar with Matron in a kimono?-and a large sign proclaiming, “Only plastic glasses, plates and crockery to be taken outside!” However, Sumo wrestling with the Major will defiantly not feature on Wally’s post it notes.

Of course the fixture against Douglas fired the Alies up for the return game on March 7. Major Tours had already been roughing out an itinerary, the Accountant, after his successful foray in putting together a package in March 2018, was querying departure days. Would it be a Friday, Thursday, or Wednesday? Maximus, who is familiar with all things that have a Manx connection, was unable to contribute to the debate because he was still assigned to puppy duties, but Douglas’s Chairman Noel, who was in fine form throughout his visit, offered some tips and was obviously gearing up for the return fixture as were the Borough Treasurer and Mr Chips.

To help the Alies with jotting down the salient points of the discussion the Major presented them with suitably inscribed barber shop pole shaped biros, these would come in very useful for those oenophiles to jot down their favourite vintages as they plough up and down the aisles of Sainsbury’s, Tesco, Asda and Aldi ahead of the fixture at Birkenhead Park.

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