We arrived a little late at this morning’s Sporting Memories due to a few transport problems but I had alerted our leaders in advance that we would be late just in case they might worry about us. Why I imagined they
might worry about our apparent absence I don’t know but better safe than sorry, I always say.
Then when we arrived it was to find, planted in the midst of
the area where we gather, one of those transportable bars serving Stella Artois which (I am led to believe) is reassuringly expensive. Nobody knew why it was there in our midst and it did make it difficult to see each other round it - but it did, of course,
lead to some hilarity about the nature of future meetings. What’s more, our leaders had been asked to supply some photographs of our gathering for publicity purposes. What everyone would think, seeing us apparently crowded around a bar at ten o’clock
in the morning, we could only guess at. Membership numbers might soar, we reckoned.
We are well aware that our little gang doesn’t tend to operate on the
more structured lines of other Sporting Memories groups. We tend to simply sit around and chat about anything and everything. Mostly sport but we do stray (more than occasionally) into other areas of general and / or particular interest. We never quite
know, on arrival each week, how the conversation will flow. Though flow it most certainly will. Even without Alcoholic Assistance.
The only regular feature of
our meetings, as I have mentioned before, is my reading aloud the match report written by the Middle of the Darling Daughters, on the latest outing by the Mighty Lions under 9 team. Grandson Faris the Rascal is one of the Lions’ most determined players.
This week I even had a photograph of the whole team to show. Last week the Mighty Lions won their match 12-0 so this week they were playing in a different, more challenging league. This, I explained, was because they are involved in a developmental league
structure so teams can find themselves playing up a league or down a league depending on their success or otherwise. I wasn’t completely sure to be honest that I was explaining this properly but everyone thought it was a really interesting idea. Maybe,
we thought, we should suggest it to the FA? We all reluctantly agreed this was a suggestion that was Certain To Meet With Failure.
To give the impression that
we do more than sit and chat, one of our leaders produced some bowls and set up a few action shots for the camera. It looked so much fun that we all decided to take a turn, including Mr B hurling each ball from his wheelchair towards the end of the room with
considerable gusto if little sense of direction. I can't scoff, having sent each of my missiles crashing into table legs. I pretended that I was aiming for a deflection but nobody was fooled. We then took photographs of us around the portable bar, with one
of our leaders pretending to pull a pint and me pretending to be crashed out on the other side of the bar in a drunken stupor. I am assured that these photographs will not be sent off to be published but will only grace the pages of our own, private scrap
When it came to the time for our regular refreshments, everything became even more surreal. Rhona produced a tin of home-made gingerbread
men / women / people - every one of them suffering a disability. Some were without a leg, some without an arm, some were actually headless. This didn’t stop Mr B eating his way through several - almost enough for half a football team though, loyally,
I stopped counting after his first few forays into the biscuit tin.
As for the rest of us, well we too did our best to put the poor things out of their misery…