Hurlers Match report 2020

Once upon a time in the West Midlands (my apologies for the over use of Western movie metaphors and references in advance). Note - All attendees/absentees have been given famous actor avatars (So very 21st century!) 

'Give me the youth and I will give you back the adult Hurler' – Pope Paul XXIII (1922)

Attendees

 

• Hibbo – Brad Dexter – a straight guy with no angles (and “a surprising aftertaste”, according to the CAMRA guide
• Gibbo –Robert Vaughan – HMG Health Warning – “No woman over 40 is safe in this man’s company” (the Warren Beatty of the “odd socked ensemble”)
• Leo – Steve McQueen – the “King of Cool” or the “Cooler King” - take your pick 
• Keenan - James Coburn – the “Duke of Cool” or the “Camper King” – “In like Flint”
• Darce – Charles Bronson - (plays an Irishman in the “Magnificent Seven” film– FFS) 
• Tim – Horst Buchholz –fittest Hurler & our “Eddy Merckx” – a 2-wheeled whirlwind

Notable Absences (and their avatars)

 

• Cowlers – John Wayne (“is big leggy?!”) – the much missed “Boswell” of the Hurlers
• Priesty – Yul Brynner – our Captain/Skipper – much missed – love and best wishes to you and  your tribe, Skipper!
• Conrad –‘Enry Fonda –he wears his Syrup well & is Pritti’s “dark Irishman” – enuff said
• Pedz Morrell - Randolph Scott – integrity personified – the Man, the Legend, the Hurler!
• Ben Dan Morrell– Ben Foster (obvs) – Wild Card/Wild Guy and our Axe man
• Gibson brothers (Jack & Michael) – the Casey & Ben Affleck of the Hurlers – lock up your daughters, your X boxes (and your booze!)
• The Eyles Brothers – Joe, Robbie and Alex – three great young men – polite, intelligent and gifted and so most of us ask – but then how can they be hurlers? They’re polite, intelligent and gifted, etc…. The simple answer is their “pater familias” (or their dad, Leo, for the non-latin readers amongst you). As they say, “The apple does not fall that far from the tree” and Les has managed to get the cream of the crop by being a great parent, along with mum, Jane. 
• Katy Priest – Katy Perry – clever, kind and radiant (again, obvs)
• Dylan Priest – Colin Farrell (yet again, obvs) – the people’s poet & “speaker of truth to power” (well, to his dad anyway…) 
• Tom Priest – Arnie Hamner – the “young pretender” to Gibbo’s Crown as the Hurler’s Lothario/Love Machine
• Mez – Russell Crowe – again obvs – as he’s both a sex god and Aussie gladiator- “Strewth!” 
• Peter Mullins (James Joyce) – the Claud Raines of the Hurlers (the original “Invisible man”) not seen since his initiation at 8.04pm on 7/11/82 (Mandela Bar), now believed to be living in Ireland for Tax and Love purposes and writing his third novel: “My life-long battle with Ring Pull Beer Cans – a comic opera in three parts”.
• Wheeldon (Roy Rogers) – the singing cowboy (& Hurler) - the Lenny Cohen of the Hurlers was also sorely missed – “I was born like this, I had no choice, I was born with the gift of a golden voice…” But, at least his heart rending, if not heart breaking, version of “Working on the railway” is immortalised forever in the cyber world – see Cowlers’ Goat Hurlers blog for the link – take care our cherished senior Hurler and our best wishes to you and your clan. 

 

In the absence of our esteemed scribe (Cowlers – the “Oscar Wilde” of the odd-socked Wild Bunch) and with no “father” of the Hurlers (Pedz (but, I call him “dad”) Morrell) and no Skipper (Priesty), yours truly is writing this match report, yes – its Gerard (“no space bar”) Darcy. 

It was a subdued and tired bunch of five that rocked up to “Hibbofest” (the alternative Hook Norton festival) and without our much missed Captain, Steve Priest, the Yul Brynner to our “Magnificent Seven” (or “Six”, as per the government guidelines). It went without saying (though, I will say it) that the well-worn and time-honoured traditions of “Hookey” were observed in their absence;

The coffee morning at the Church, the Pear Tree pub running out of Beer, mushy pea fritters, Katy Hibbit defending her “Aunt Sally Junior World Champion” (official ASWF affiliated) status, the sing song at the Pear Tree followed by Gibbo fending off the local Cougars at about “closing time”. Alas, also no “Jude/June“and no “parrot lady” and all sorely missed but not forgotten.

Some say that the Hurlers are becoming like “The Wild Bunch” (Peckinpah (1969) - a bunch of grumpy old men out of place in the modern era of Sexting, Snapchat and “Tik Tok” and as a group has now resorted to simply “kicking against the pricks”, in Beckett’s cynical phraseology. So, the possibly tag line for this year was: “Out of time, out of ammo and out of those uncomfortably tight ‘80s sports shorts. (They just don’t fit anymore, like so many other things).” Essentially, they, or rather we, could also be seen as “Cultural Luddites” in an era of “#MeToo”, “Strictly...”, etc., holding out against a Tsunami of political correctness, low cal energy health drinks, Pelloton, “Bake Off” and “wokeness”. But, we see ourselves rightly as upholding a long and cherished British tradition of anti-fascist “bladdering” and talking (non-sponsored/uncensored) bollocks and long may it continue. 

“They’ll always be a Hurler, as where ever odd socks are worn, pints are drunk and tall tales recounted, there will always be Hurler will be standing guard, if only in spirit …”

Luckily, there’s a new generation of Hurlers coming through to brave both the barbs and the brickbats and carry on the noble (and ignoble) Hurler traditions:

Such young acolytes, stalwarts and devotees as Ben Morrell (the Hurlers’ “Hendrix”), the Gibson Brothers (Jack and Michael, altogether now -“Cuba…you dance to the music like nobody does…” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZKOjuh-cTs), Katy Priest (the Hurlers’ very own still quiet voice of sanity in the drink-filled nights of madness) and Dylan Priest (the Keith Moon of the Hurlers – “People try to put us down…why don’t you all, just fade away…”). Tom Priest, the quiet man of the tribe, but quick witted with a pithy put-down and even quicker at sinking his pint – good man.

 

Others will no doubt in time join this gallant band of brothers and sisters – “we, lucky few…” Anyway, more power to your drinking elbows - “…may the road rise up to meet you and the sun be always at your back….” Not forgetting Katy Hibbitt, our youngest and newest Hurler - the voice of youth and reason. She will be soon off to University in the next few years taking her Aunt Sally trophies and her newly minted Hurlers T-shirt with her. Her obvious University choices via UCAS are Warwick, Warwick and yes – Manchester.

 

It was said that “If a man is tired of the Hurlers, he is tired of life”. Actually, it was Samuel Johnson writing about London, but if the t-shirt fits…. 

 

We rode up to Hibbo’s ranch (well, we all drove) and so were very much in need of refreshment, food and good companionship and were well pleased with our host and his lovely home and his gracious hospitality. Basically, we had a great time. Some serious chat mixed with high jinks – see assorted photos on What’s App. Gibbo regaled us about his time in Chicago (the City not the Musical) on “procurement business”. Gibbo has now assumed the mantle of the ultimate lovrve Hurler and prime Cougar bait – “Women want to be with him and men want to be him!” (I just want him to buy me a pint, to be frank! – GD) He’s a lucky old Hurler and no mistake, which he graciously concedes.

 

With Leo then, at length, lamenting BHA’s prospects in the coming Footie year in the “Scouse/Manc Football League” or “the Premiership”, as some would more optimistically call it and playing his Joni Mitchell collection bringing a suitable mature introspection to the late night discussions. Leo also helpfully shared the on-going car crash that is West Ham’s season (2-1 to the Gooners).

 

The Keenans were delightful and generous companions and vocal contributors to our “putting the world to rights” late night discussion – all held in good spirits (70% proof) and Paula and Rachel kindly putting up with my PC ramblings. Tim told us about his quite varied year, his travels for work before Covid turned up to spoil the party as it were, his family and his dog Bramble and his run of bad luck on the International Backgammon circuit – “You roll the dice and you take your luck…”, as our world weary philosopher and playboy succinctly puts it. Tim also brought the best sausages to general approval and acclaim (except Hibbo, who was jealous, as Tim had produced a better sausage).

Pre-drinking ensemble, before the mayhem started and things snowballed…

 

 

The Beers

(Table devised by Katy Hibbitt – newly crowned “Queen of the Hurlers”)

Name	Brewery	ABV	Tasting notes
Hobgoblin	Wychwood	4.5%	Brewed with smooth, rich chocolate & crystal malts and a blend of fuggles & styrian golding hops. Expect a delicious, full-bodied toffee flavour and a fruity finish of figs, raisins and dates.
Mad Goose	Purity	4.2%	A zesty pale ale with a smooth and citrusy finish. Brewed with English Maris Otter, Caragold and Wheat malts, with Pilgrim bittering hops and Cascade and Willamette aroma hops with an IBU 48.
Cheltenham Gold	Goffs	4.5%	American Hopped Golden Ale - Winner Beer of the Year by CAMRA 2017. A smooth APA with bold tropical fruit aromas. Not just for the races!
Sussex Best	Harvey’s	4%	Hugely popular flagship bitter with a distinctive hoppy finish. Finest Maris Otter malted barley is supplemented with a dash of Crystal malt for balance. The hops used are a blend of four different local varieties.
Black Fox Porter	Red Fox	4.8%	This is the Red Fox beer that has won the most awards (so far!), including Champion Winter Porter of Great Britain in 2016. A rich black beer, very malty with smooth chocolate notes and hints of liquorice. Smooth, but not too dry.
London Pride	Fuller’s	4.7%	Brewed with a rich, distinctive base of British malt and a diverse blend of target, goldings, challenger & northdown hops for vibrancy and balance. The essence of our Capital City and the people who call it home.
Black Sheep IPA	Black Sheep	4.6%	Brewed using a blend of three new world hops; Simcoe, Citra and Columbus, Black Sheep IPA is a ferocious and hop-dominant pint with fragrant notes of tropical fruits and citrus. The pale malt blend provides a light and gentle base that allows the hops to sing on the palate and showcase their plethora of fruity and piney features. A sharp spike of hop bitterness works beautifully with the malt to leave a crisp and refreshing finish.

The winner by quite some margin was “Black Fox Porter”, a beer that truly lived up to its “chocolate and liquorice flavours” reputation and was Paula Keenan’s choice – well played, that Hurler!

 

It was a mellow vibe to this year’s alternative to Hookey and a good time was had by all. Luckily or unfortunately (take your pick), the “Swedish wife swap stick game” or “Agnetha, where’s my keys to the Saab?” game was cancelled, as Pedz has the full SWS© kit and the handsomely hand tooled fondue set that is its centrepiece. As in so many areas, Pedz, the spiritual father of the Hurlers – the “odd socked Kierkegaard of Greater Manchester” was sorely missed, if only for the wit, insight and camping equipment/sports gear, that he brings to such proceedings. “Next year in Stockholm…” as we say in my local Ikea….

 

The Pyramid - After virtual manufacturing, virtual sex and other such modern new-fangled things - the Virtual Pyramid

NB: Use of chairs & other marital aids….

 

I’m a Firestarter, twisted Firestarter….

After consuming a large quantity of beer and Gibbo having assumed the mantle of Peter “the Cat” Bonneti in goal – good job, Gibbo, Les was the Sir Les Ferdinand on the pitch itself showing the silky skills of a young Steve Bland. So, what would any sensible very drunk adult do next –yes – start the largest fire west of California – luckily, a team of firefighters were on stand–by.

 

The Aftermath

 

On Sunday morning, Gibbo made a new friend in Brodie, a brown and black British Bulldog that was being boarded at Hibbo’s. Brodie decided to try and eat (or mate) with one of Gibbo’s expensive walking trainers and a Carry on type chase ensued – just imagine “Yakkety Sax”, the Benny Hill chase music as the soundtrack, thankfully Gibbo eventually got his trainer and dignity back. What can we say about our host, generous and kind with a lovely home and a wonderful family – all I can say is if the Hurlers does one of those “Life Swap buddy” film comedies, where the stoner loser swaps his life with his successful friend and usually starring Jason Bateman and Seth Rogan and set in Boston (can I be the “Seth” to Andy’s “Jace”). He was the most attentive of hosts and great fun to be with. As we said several times over the last few days, we should really have more meet ups like this as we are all getting older – thank you, my old friend and our collective best wishes to all of the Hibbitt clan.

Jason Bateman in “The Railway Tram” enjoying a quiet pint and social distancing “mosh pitting”.

 

Next year in Hookey (or “Hookey 2021”, as it’s started to be called, those modern bloggers and their fancy ways), the suggested themes for the Hurlers’ “comeback” tour, so far, are:

• “Reservoir Dogs”,
•  Ol’ Red Eyes is back,
• Swedish Games and Leisurewear (‘72-78 – platform shoes/loon pants optional),
• “The Sons of Lee Marvin”,
• French Philosophers from Rousseau to Derrida,
• Modern English Poetry,
• The “Survivors Ball”(a Warwick homage),
• Spinal Tap Tribute Act
• “Avoiding Cougar attack” – a short optional seminar by R Gibson (Zoom facilities are available)
• Postmodern Cultural Marxism in a modern setting and
• 1940s Hollywood Noir Films – Bogart et al (again trench-type raincoat optional).

Voting will be in the usual way – a modified STV system with our much missed skipper, Priesty, making the final call.

 

Love, peace and light to all and all joking/bantering aside: We all hope you are all keeping well and some of our absent friends and their families are in our daily thoughts, hopes and prayers.

To quote Roger McGough (yes – I know he’s a scouser, but I like him - GD) -  

 

“When all is said and done, there’s nothing more to say and nothing more to do.”

record breaking record breakers

Not because the Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales was attended by Roy Castle or Norris McWhirter (mainly because they are dead) but 2018 proved to be an outstanding record breaking year in the anals of Hooky Beer Fest history.

Record	Count	Who	Notes
P(o)ints	100	Steve Priest	'Tika Taka'
Aunt Sally's	43	Steve Priest	'METAL !'
Assists	18	Steve Priest	Fetching beer for someone else
Donation to St John's	£10	Steve Priest	'Raise the roof !'
Apologies	7	Mez Morrell	Successive apologies for absence
Fair Trade coffee	5	Steve Priest	St. John's coffee morning
Encores	3	Tom Priest	'Dragnet' MES tribute set
Shots	0	N/A	No shots, just pints

2016 match report

Rather like Monty Python ('There is no rule 6'), there was no match report for 2016.

I appear to have attributed this to 'Post Hooky lethargy' which is simply inexcusable.

However, we have a limited set of pictures for a caption competition 

 https://www.flickr.com/photos/129369946@N05/sets/72157668665167414/

2015 Match Report

Friday 17 July

Andy arrived first and checked into room 3 at the deluxe, 5 star Pear Tree B&B (£50 per night, Wifi and full English included), shown to his room by the delightful Clare. As he took his first sip of Hooky Summertime, his heart sank as he saw a dirty, forlorn, impoverished, alcohol ravaged figure from the local Wetherspoons disembarking the 489 bus and approach the hostelry with his hand outstretched. I took pity on the poor wretch and offered him a pint. Just as well as it was our illustrious leader - Steve Priest.

As we discussed Citeh's recruitment of a highly prized, young, prestigious, bright talent, an established Ing-er-land International to help the Bertie's push for European Champions glory, we were rudely interrupted from our detailed analysis of Fabian Delph's abilities as a Vauxhall Astra powered past the pub with the window down:-

'OI OI - YOU MANC WANKERS !'

Sure enough, Gerard Darcy had arrived - slightly ahead of schedule, unencumbered by hangers on like Gibbo and Conrad, direct from Luton. Darce left to park up and erect his tent. 90 minutes later he arrived at the Pear Tree as we embarked on our fourth pint.

Apparently, while it only took him 16 minutes to erect his 'single-skin' tent but then, inexplicably, he chose to sit peacefully in the field, sitting cross legged, perfectly still, silent, clearing his mind of all thoughts before joining the fray. It was the last time he was silent for a full 36 hours (if you count snoring).

Andy recounted a news story of a gentleman who crashed his car, with his trousers down by his knees, sadly killing his partner but, in mitigation, proffered the rather weak defence that she was only 'pleasuring me in the drivers seat'.

The Keenan clan then joined us - Mike, Paula and the delightful Rachel (ambulance dispatcher) and Emma (fish auditor) - fresh from a shower, sushi, champagne and jacuzzi in the legendary 'Breaking Bad' RV. The girls were keenan (geddit ?) drinking some real ale but, in a curious role reversal, Steve begged to go to The Sun for something to eat.

Andy showed his local knowledge by asking the landlord whether his annual turnover had trebled following the unfortunate closure of the lamented Bell Inn. His answer was a stony 'Err, no' and he told us the Chinese illegals were now running a high end Chinese restaurant called 'For Whom The Bell Tolls' in Banbury catering for the Chipping Norton set (bookings advised).

Saturday 18 July

After a relaxing night's sleep on a decent mattress and eiderdown pillows, Andy was mortified to see the groggy, unshaven figures of Steve and Darce appear outside the Pear Tree just as he tucked into his fried bread. They had come down for a '£3.50 Festival Roll' but were disappointed to find it was simply a floury bap filled with bacon and/or egg and/or sausage.

Next up was the traditional coffee morning at the Church Hall. Much to Andy's surprise, with shades of an episode from The League of Gentlemen, Clare miraculously appeared serving FairTrade coffee and coconut macaroons.

Steve politely asked if she'd be able to knock off work early and attend the festival. Clare replied

'I only go down if the sun's out. If it doesn't rain, I'll probably go down all day'.

This went over my head but Steve eagerly consulted the BBC weather forecast and kept re-telling the joke throughout.

Our spirits were raised further by the arrival of Leo and Hooky débutante, Robbie. Leo recounted the origins of the Crystal Palace versus Brighton rivalry. Apparently it involved Terry Venables throwing a handful of change at Seagulls fans (I think).

After making our donations to the Church roof fund, it was back to the meadow to sit and watch Leo and Robbie erect their tent and wait for the queues to die down before entering the Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales (2015).

Thankfully, the Keenan's were already installed in prime position under a 'One Touch Erect' gazebo structure in case of inclement weather so we parked our Directors chairs and eagerly anticipated Andy Hibbitt's 'mid-morning' arrival.

We duly embarked on the list of 109 ales, ciders and ignored the gentlemen manning the Carlsberg stand. Some chose pints, some chose halves. We marked each drink with our comments and greeted a few with 'Is that Stout ?'

Just as we were all giving up on Hibbitt and eyeballing potential base row pyramid candidates, a handsome man approached with that unforgettable West Country drawl 'Alright - lads'.

Half past two passes for 'mid-morning' if your pace of life originates around Keynsham. Andy H. told us he had a lovely wife (Charlotte), was the proud father of three lovely girls and owned a female cat and a female guinea-pig but this simply wasn't enough estrogen so he did the honourable thing and officially adopted a fourth daughter.

Andy H condemned a middle aged man with two children to death when he purposefully evaded the camping charge of £10 (all to charity) by claiming he was just 'parking up' despite the mattress and sleeping bag on the back-seat.

The twilight zone came and passed without the traditional game of football despite having a selection of 8 balls to choose from. We managed to raise ourselves out of our lethargy to form a 4-3-2-1 human pyramid which garnered a ripple of applause.

Andy H received a generous bonus - 6 pints worth of beer tokens for the price of 3. He generously donated the excess to the GHS 'More Beer' fund instead of helping to save a child's life with blood leukaemia.

We all received another unexpected and very welcome bonus during the mid-afternoon lull (when Darcy normally goes for mushy pea fritters) when Paula presented high tea featuring scones with cream and strawberry jam topped off with a strawberry.

Steve muttered the James lyric 'They're really nice but, after 30 years, are we turning into the men we've always hated' ?

Steve set the pace by necking half a pint of Cotswold Gin & Tonic as a livener for the Aunt Sally tournament at The Sun Inn.

We were distraught to be told by the pretty barmaid that 'no throwy sticks' were available and most serious teams brought their own. Steve enquired whether she might be able to 'whittle my stick into shape' while Darcy just mindlessly shouted 'SAT-MY-NAV SAT-MY-NAV'.

We went into the beer garden to drown our sorrows and discuss Robbie's forthcoming year studying law (not so exciting) in Helsinki (exciting).

Miraculously, someone found two batons lying discarded, unloved in the Aunt Sally pit which we gleefully grabbed. Burgundies/Blacks beat Pinks/Reds and, inevitably, we were then challenged yet again by some pissed-up locals whose leader claimed their great-great-grandfather played for Deddington Aunt Sally First XI and once scored a Triple Whammy Deluxe. Just as inevitably, 'Salford Lads Club' beat them 4-0.

Back to the Pear Tree for a top-up before returning to the legendary Hook Norton Oblong Tent to enjoy June's favourite band - Joe 90 - who played some BritPop covers. En route Leo found a stray tenner which he generously added to the GHS 'More Beer' fund.

After thunderous applause, the band were encouraged to return for a third encore. As the opening chords of Blur's 'Song 2' were unleashed, every single Hurler present united and one and screamed

'CHEESE BLUR FARMER WANKER'

11 pm was approaching. People were swaying unsteadily. The security guards were looking nervous. The beer was slowly running out, timed to perfection.

MC Pigs took the stage and played a Stereophonics 'Just Looking' and something by 'Black Sabbath' which was well received.

Andy retired to his room. John thanked him for 'respecting me, respecting my pub and respecting the village'. Which was nice.

Flickr album

Attendees:

Andy ('4 year absence makes the heart grow fonder') Cowling
Andy ('mid-morning') Hibbitt
Emma ('Floral Headress') Keenan
Gerard ('single skin for extra sensitivity') Darcy
Leo ('Frying Pan') Eyles
Mike ('perfect gazebo unfurling') Keenan
Robbie ('Lionel Messi of Aunt Sally') Eyles
Steve ('Wetherspoons Loyalty Card Holder') PriestField
Paula ('Buttered Scones with Jam and Cream') Keenan
Rachel '(What is the nature of your emergency ?') Keenan

Apologies:

Mez ('too far, coming in August') Morrell
Pedz ('baby sitting for a maid-of-honour') Morrell
Mike ('sister getting betrothed') Wheeldon
Conrad ('reclaiming the Cornish flag from ISIS') Flynn
Gibbo ('going somewhere Nice')
Steve ('OOTO') Bland
Dave ('Once was enough') Ball

2011 Match Report

People from all over the UK viewed the BBC weather forecast for 'Banbury - Saturday 16 July' of 'Torrential Rain' with fear and trepidation as the Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales approached.

Goat Hurlers are made of stern stuff though, having endured the Flood of 2007, and this year saw a record attendance with 19 people making the trip, including several debutantes.

Pedz and his Morrell clan waited in vain for a lift from Banbury railway station not knowing Andy was parked up in the camping field waiting for Thompson, and his son Walter, who were commandeered into assisting with the erection of the 'Idaho 3' tent.

Friday night saw a departure from recent tradition by residing in the Pear Tree all night as more arrivals flooded in.

The Pear Tree is under new management and it was quite a shock to be greeted with a smile (instead of a glare) by the lovely Laura.

The heavens opened on Saturday morning which soaked Andy and the Thompson Twins to the skin. Unfortunately, this meant Andy missed the legendary Church coffee morning as he dried out under canvas.

As 12 noon approached, so did Rich and Darcey and a dulcet Essex voice boomed out 'Ere Rich - that's Priesty's dormobile. Let's just stick the tent up over there, mate'.

Eerily, at that very moment, the rain subsided and the sun peeked through to herald the opening of the 2011 festival.

This was the third year in the Rural Fayre field (and my first experience). Obviously, it wasn't the same as the good old days where we bagged a wooden bench and expectantly waited for people to come rolling down the hill. However, all the real ales were located in a large marquee with no queuing - hurrah !

Surprise visitor, Mike Keenan, kindly erected a deluxe gazebo to accommodate the growing numbers of Hurlers. Chairs were brought out and we tasted some of the 109 available beers.



Mid-afternoon saw a visit from the event organiser, Jill, who had brought along a photographer from the Banbury Gazette to capture the most glorious of human pyramids. After some careful planning by Steve, and a sensible decision to reject a 6-5-4-3-2-1 attempt, we produced a rock solid, twin 7-6-2-2-1-1 structure. Hard to describe, as when you're on the base, you haven't got a clue what's above you (apart from a lot of weight crushing the very breath out of your lungs).



One advantage of the large field was that footy could take place without a long boring trek to the play park. This was just as well as a basketball hoop has been placed in front of the away goal. The 'Old Gits' took on the 'Young Upstarts' and surprisingly won 6-4. Doubly surprisingly as the 'Young Uns' fielded Paul Scholes (Mark).

Gerard Darcey gave an outstanding performance at centre half shielding an energetic and effective goal keeper (Gibson). A security guard gave us advance warning that a 4x4 was coming through the penalty area. Which was nice.

In an effort to give the debutantes the full festival experience, mushy pea fritters and chips were consumed to line the stomach for the lengthy trek right across the village to The Bell.

There is also a new landlord in place at The Bell but gratifyingly, he is as unfriendly and unwelcoming as the previous ten. Attempts to procure ale were met with a blank stare. 'Sorry, lads - ain't got any beer at all'. Before you say, well it's his busiest day of the year - no-one drinks in The Bell by choice. It's like a hostelry for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

Armed with Guinness, cider, premium strength lager and wooden missiles, we took to the Aunt Sally range. The 'North' played the 'South' and someone won. Then, 'Boys' played 'Girls' (topped by by some random student teachers) and someone won.

We left the stinking cess pit of The Bell behind us with all the 'Drug Watch' posters and went to play pool in rather more civilised Sun hostelry where the biggest challenge inserting a 50p piece to release the balls.

The presence of so many ladies this year led to a bizarre phrase being oft repeated that simply was not understood (or heeded) by the chaps - 'When are we going for food ?'

The pool and the proper toilet facilities in The Sun proved so popular we missed the traditional music that closes the Festival.

All in all - a great festival. Thanks to all who attended.

Attendees:

Steve, Tom, Katie, Mark (Sky Blue dormobile, no awning)
Andy (no mates, mistress, adopted African orphans or family in tow)
Pedz, Becky, Phil ('Taxi')
Ben, Emily (12,000 mile trip from Oz)
Rich, Darce (Essex boys)
Leo, Joe (Brighton 'Gus' Posse)
Thompson, Walter (plus ukulele)
Wheeldon (Bear Grylls survival tent - red tadpole)
Mike, Paula (chemical toilet out of bounds)

Darcey's 2010 match report

All (but especially Cowlers)

“Well, you hate to watch another tired man lay down his hand, like he was giving up the Holy Game of Poker. And while he talks his dreams to sleep, you notice there's a highway that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder…”

I thought by now that the Hookey match report would be in, so could this email be considered a kind of addenda or points to be added to the report when published, etc:

“The last man standing(ish)” - Can I claim the mantle of being the last to attend at Hookey and failing the time trials? The “Peter Mullins Straggler” award (1.50pm on Saturday in the Beer Tent, it must be a record).

“Captain, my captain” – early on Saturday afternoon, I was asked by some very friendly brummies “is your captain here?” I worked out that they meant Steve, which is fair enough as he has “the sneer of cold command” and he wears a beany! But, if he‘s captain, can I be the Sgt of the Hurlers as the uncle I was named after was a Sgt Major during WW2 (and my forename has been a cross that I’ve had to bear ever since). The brummies, as did others, also asked about us doing a pyramid...see below.

“Future Hurlers – the next generation” – Having dragged myself away from the mosh pit (see link below) for a break at about 11pm, two young women approached me asked me about joining the “hurlers”. I told them about the “6 pints”, “long and proud history”, etc and they were still keen, so for next year, it’s a possible chance at world domination and to possibly flog some t shirts. I suppose if we are looking at the “next generation” does that make Steve, our Captain Kirk, our very own William Shatner!

Bands - It was one of the liveliest sets of bands that I‘ve seen at Hookey and one the liveliest/nicest mosh pits, I’ve ever been catapulted into– “Man make fire” and “pencil face” (last two bands for the record). For the confused – for “Mosh pit” – see wiki link below, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moshing

Football, Glastonbury and facilities – Firstly - no footy!! In this World Cup year and with only four of us (Cap’n Steve, Tom, Pedz and I) it was not enough, so we need to improve numbers - “buy in” players a la Citeh? Therefore, with too few numbers for footy or aunt sally and so much to see and do in the festival site itself, we didn’t leave the site all day on Saturday, so Hookey is in danger (a joyous or scary possibility) of turning into a mini Glasto though thankfully without the unisex showers and eco toilets. For me, I still bear the psychiatric scars from festivals in the 80s and 90s, sharing facilities with the crusties, apart from that joyous “summer of love” in 1989 – Inspiral carpets, The Mondays and The Roses – what a summer, what a set of gigs – I can still taste the brownies and my baggy dayglo t-shirt is still in my wardrobe.

No pyramid – again like the Footy with only four of us, not enough and we were asked if we were going to build one….previous comments refer and see “captain, my captain” comments, above.

“Slippery Slope” moment/dilemma - After the “Rubicon crossing” moment of having taken our children along for the last two years and her (my other half) hearing about the young women wanting to join the hurlers, my other half now wants to go….hmmm…. We better start work on a game plan to prevent the one weekend that I have away from the fruit of my loins and the love of my life becoming just another family weekend….help!

Mushy pea fritters – one of my personal highlights – they ran out early this year – just an observation.

Beers – good and larger selection (included for us soft southern lager drinking jessies) and some rather nice milds and a separate cider stall. Note: The beer did not run out until about 10.45pm….hurrah!!

World Cup Hurlers Sweep - Les won the award, having picked the Spanish (see attached), muy bien…

Robert Green and The World Cup – leave it out…enough said.

Jude – still lovely, still unhappy and now divorced (and a Deputy Head teacher)…the Marlene Dietrich (or is it Marianne Faithful) of the Hurlers on tour…I’ll compose a Shelley like sonnet or a dark verse a la Baudelaire later in the week, if time permits and the muse visits.

1st Hurlers cap – Tom Priest – a good debut – he held his own and others (pints), when asked – “well played, that man”.

Weather – good most of the day Saturday - sunny spells, etc, and all that bollix and very overcast (grey) on Sunday morning

Next year – three key points - bigger numbers/more bodies (a priority) – the site and the range of beers keeps getting better (a positive) – The Bell (Aunt Sally) not what it was (sad and a mild negative).

Summary – a very good hookey, but nowhere near the best (in my view), as too many friends were absent or had to leave early and if we’d had a full contingent, it would have been a huge ball of disco and beer flavored fudge with Football and Aunt Sally topping, so all of you who were “missing in action” try and make it next year so we can have it large!!. I’ll bring my fondue set, Cheers or Hasta la vista, as we say in Green Street, Darce

PS – BTW - I am not having a pop about anyone not attending, my fear is that next year I’ll be at Latitude with “the boss” and my children or more scarily at Hookey itself with the aforementioned….

2010 - The UnFestival

At technical conferences like Oracle OpenWorld, it has become fashionable to run 'Unconferences' where people stand up and talk about the detailed innards of the Oracle log buffer mechanism. A deliberate contrast from corporate marketing and death by Powerpoint.

Due to a late breaking family commitment, I was forced to attend Hook Norton on Thursday and Friday this year. This had the benefit of missing the crowds but the minor disadvantage of missing the actual beer festival on Saturday.

I checked in to the Bed & Breakfast above the Pear Tree which comes highly recommended - free WiFi, colour TV, shower, toilet and excellent full English breakfast and all possible flavours of Hook until you choose to turn in - around 9pm in my case.

On Friday, I was joined by Steve, his lad Tom (making his Hookie debut) and Peter. Wheeldon appeared with surprise guest Thompson and Bill glided in from somewhere towing an expensive caravan, he'd acquired from Keenan. Canny Scot Bill managed to negotiate a discount for the odd odour emanating from the chemical toilet.

I managed to escape helping Steve's gang erect their deluxe awning by telling my mate, Allan the landlord, that I'd gone for a 18 mile country walk to Banbury whereas in truth I was watching the golf upstairs in my penthouse suite.

Thompson explained his 12 year absence by telling us he'd been busy trying to secure the title of 'Professor' and failing; he's still just a 'Senior Lecturer' at Oxford University stuggling to solve the external GHS conundrum: 'Why the fuck did we all go to Stevenage ?'

Steve had brought lots of food - well bread, peanut butter and bananas. This was bad news for Tom who doesn't like bananas or peanut butter.

Had a couple in the Pear Tree, played Aunt Sally in The Bell where, inevitably, we were accosted by locals who threw one stick, missed and promptly diaappeared without even standing their round.

On to the Sun for another pint and back to The Pear Tree where the stalwarts cranked out of version of the Socialist anthem 'The Rights of Man' before a local advised us that the loud volume might prejudice any potential 'lock-in' so we all adjourned to Steve's VM Dormobile which, inevitably, is pale blue.

Steve got out his acoustic guitar. Young Tom turned rather green but thankfully recovered to produce a moving cover version of Nirvana's 'Come As You Are'.

The next morning dawned sunny and bright. The Hook Norton Festival of Fine Ales was now just hours away. A year of waiting and expectation was finally over.

Let the laughter begin.

And that's when I had to leave.

2010 photo blog

2003 bi-centenary logo

To all those people who stare at us, every year, in a vain effort to decipher what is adorned on the Goat Hurling bi-centennial T-shirts, wonder no more.

2008 gallery