Weather Report

Sorry about the recent lack of activity - the planned Christmas break became a week, ten days...

...and eventually stretched to a month of idleness.

As I sit and write it is snowing outside my window. The garden is looking particularly picturesque and the ruinous shed is taking on the look of a Christmas card. All it needs is an unfeasibly large robin to perch on the roof and it would be perfect. Apart from the fact that the weight of a robin would probably be enough to bring the whole thing down. What with the fox excavating underneath and the storm taking the roof off I really ought to do something.

However, first I have to write one of my all-time favourite match reports. Paviors 5 Nottingham 10. Not a classic by any means, but how many times do you get to write a match report that still has you smiling next day?

It started well, when I turned up and found the police dog trainers were in action on the field next door. I've always fancied a go at being the man running away with the padded arm. It's always seemed like fun. This is probably a sign of a childhood blighted by Blue Peter but we all have different ambitions. On top of that, although I'm not much of a one for male jewellery I do think an alsatian on the wrist looks pretty macho. Far better than a bracelet for instance, and though it lacks the resale value of a Rolex at least nobody would look at it and claim it was a cheap Turkish knock-off. With alsatians what you see is what you get.

Anyway, it then got better when the match started, particularly the second half when the referee decided to use a different set of laws. Let's put it this way, if he'd suddenly produced a red nose from the pocket of his shorts I wouldn't have been surprised. There's always been a touch of surrealism about our matches with Pavs, like the time we won because they hassled the ref so much he misread his watch and ended the match ten minutes early (while we were hanging on to a slender lead). This was no exception as the ref awarded a penalty on their ten metre line. No problem. Unfortunately he seemed to like the idea of penalties so much that he awarded another, and another...

We hardly touched the ball but every time we did Pavs got a penalty.

Eventually, they scored. You often see talk of solo tries, but this was the first time I've seen a ref score one.

At that point I had a good look round to see if a film crew from "Refs do the Funniest Things" was on the pitch. It wasn't.

Other things happened too. But this is already long enough.

Please note - the match report will contain no criticism of the ref, but I had to write something to relieve the pressure throbbing in my head. It's a difficult job and I couldn't do it even if I was fast enough to keep up. Which I'm not. It's just a matter of some regret that a circus performer seems to have obtained a whistle and a ref's shirt.

Design your own referee here.

[No refs were hurt in the making of this anecdote]