Gazeley
A bit of a mirror image of previous matches (i.e. defeats) of ours in the depths of Suffolk. A hot day, a fast outfield and shortish boundary ensured a gorge-fest of runs, first by the home team, as usual bristling with strapping lads quite capable of hitting the ball into the next village. They duly amassed over 300 as we toiled to pick up a mere four wickets.
Our reply showed early promise, with Gilly smiting to all four corners with springbok abandon, and Steve playing a close second fiddle near the top of the order. But then, the home team’s rotund, agricultural but oh-so-wily senior off spinner came on to tempt them with dolly drops from heaven. We took the bait, and wickets tumbled. We were soon both behind the asking rate and well in to our tail. The inevitable end came not much later.