Long and short of it we went in to bat, did quite well (except P Keeling) and felt extremely concerned that we might tarnish our otherwise unblemished season. Luckily at tea Maggie Keeling decided to break her fetters and walk to the middle of the pitch and proceed to defecate on the strip while staring at us like a brazen hussy, creating the perfect metaphor for our season (sadly no photos). All things resumed to the norm as Northiam carted us around the pitch and saved our blushes from the embarrassment that might have been a victory. All was safe as the score sheets will attest to:
We did, of course, repair to the pub.