The day dawned sunny and bright. I simply had to go, mainly because all the best excuses had been taken :-

- had heart attack, resulting in triple bypass surgery last night
- unexpectedly sent to outer Mongolia to do some consultancy for 9 months starting today
- impromptu trip to Boston to visit Cheers bar
- little Johnny's 12th birthday party + cricket match against Sussex second XI
- 14th Wedding Anniversary and annual blow-job imminent [thanks for the cards, lads]
- had anti-alcohol tablets inserted into stomach lining that make it impossible, 'oh go on then, a pint please' to sup ale

Arrived at Hook Norton around 13.45 - God it takes a little longer than you'd think to get up here. Simply must remember that next year. Maybe it's because I'm driving Caroline's underpowered Red Polo 1.4CL instead of my underpowered Rover 414i. Terrible journey. Caroline left me with no petrol and I couldn't fathom how to fast-forward the tape over rubbish tracks.

Anyway, rolled down the famous hill to see two of last years attendees (Pedz and Priest-meister) installed. Shurely shome mishtake. No - look more closely. The GHS Bi-Centennial Hurl had indeed convened enough members to merit two benches to be placed in an adjacent manner. Fantastic start.

New faces, Ben (WhipperSnapper) who possesses a fair head of hair for a Morrell, Paul Selby (who's from Stockport, not Selby), Mez (I got someone else to fly to Boston), Gibbo (2nd meeting in 2 weeks), the effervescent and effusive Gerard ('West aaaammmm') Darcy, Mike ('I left the Palace at home, you mucky bastards') Keano Keenan and a studious looking lecturer who I thought was on the wrong table but did sport very familiar Lennon spectacles, Mr Mike Wheeldon.

T-shirts dished out. Excellent quality and excellent value for 10 quid. Very pleased with my choice of Black XXL. Actually covered my gut which was a bonus. The odd socks didn't show in Red. Pale Blue OK but like a cheap Ciddy shirt.

Rich pontificated over the quandry of possibly being offered an interview a British American Tobacco. Opinions firmly divided.

Anyway, enough of the perfunctory greetings - to business. Stumped up 10 quid for the complimentary Pint glass and 10 tokens to be told it was 5 quid for the glass and 10 quid for the tokens. Shame. Started with a lowly rated pint and then chalked off the strongest ales, they had going.

Avoided the Lees despite Mez's recommendation. Looked like he had inadvertently picked up a stray pint glass from last year from the hedgerow, given it to a member of staff who went behind a barrel, urinated in it, added some slops, passed it back and said 'There you go, Sir. Pint of Lees. A big favourite every year.'

Good conversation, good company, fine ale, all refreshingly free of female input ('Janet called Johnny a pooh-head in the playground - what do you think about that ?'). Venue seemed busier than last year and yet oddly queues for ale less so. Bizarre. Maybe the 5 quid premium was worth it, after all.

Lack of any totty to ogle at from afar. Maybe we should get Bill Inglis back next year and swap him for Mez.

16.00 and we enter the late afternoon twilight zone. Superb 4-3-2-1 pyramid is formed - just the right number. Solid as a rock too and I was at the base. Tried to get a little ambitious and go for a 5-4-3-2-1 but failed to cajole two little boys to clamber up to the top level. Mind you, I'm not sure I'd want to clamber over Pedz's, Darcy's and my very own backside for a half-hearted round of applause and embarassed laughter.

Some Hurlers had broken protocol and gone for fish'n'chips way too early but were now going to play the penalty as we headed for the rec ground for 5-a-side footy. Got two lads to help out (Skinny and Plaster Cast) - God they were shit. Fine goal keeping from Gibbo and honours ended, well, even-ish. Positive that last goal was offside though.

Some ales were running out and the initial tokens and 4 top-ups were exhausted so we adjourned to the Pear Tree and awaited the totty to approach. Experienced a personal crisis of confidence around 19.30 that was cured by having a walk outside or, maybe, it was just my round. Can't quite recall.

Thankfully, Mrs Buggins, although present, kept her massive heaving breasts and interminable conversation to herself this year. Was this a consequence of William Inglis not putting an appearance in ?

Pub ran out of ale (again) and closed to new entrants but we were fine. Don't remember Pedz having to resort to mild this year.

Bedded down in Old Man's tent with Pedz and Paul. Very hard floor and we all rolled to the bottom of the slope. God - I wish Pete had remembered his spirit level.

Drove home with Professor Wheeldon who kept me awake. Staggered and shocked to spot Darcy and Gibbo helping a damsel in distress with two young children. Christ - do those Essex boys never stop trying to pull !

Imagine that, you're driving down the empty M40 on a quiet, sunny Sunday morning. You get a puncture, lose control, smash into the central barrier and come to a halt, 90' across the carriage way, waiting and waiting for following cars to smash into you. You have had a narrow escape with death and you nearly no longer had to worry about how to fill in the long 6 week summer holiday with the kids as they ascend into heaven. All three of you will certainly be featured on the next edition of 'When reconditioned Steel Radials go wrong at 80 MPH'.

Then two kindly, Good Samaritans clad in GoatHurling 'Festival of Fine Ales' T-shirts (one Red, one a very tight fitting Blue with a moustache - hmm is that one gay ?) escort you all safely to the hard-shoulder. Strange, how they don't call the police but the driver is 3 times over the limit. You're safe, you've had a narrow brush with death. You're in shock, you're trembling.

And now you got have got the gay one asking you whether you think Dr David Kelly was murdered by MI5, whether that golfer should indeed have been disqualified or whether Joe Cole will start the season for West Ham - and all in one long sentence in 5 seconds flat.

Got home. Kids still away camping. Slumped in front of the Golf all afternoon. Hoovered lawn and mowed the lounge.

Until next year, 'MORE BEER !'