FOWC: Pick , Non Fiction Prompt: Something I can do well.

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OK folks, this is off the scale for me. I’m sat in an overly bouncy bed in a caravan on the edges of the earth in Bovisand in Devon, tethered to my iPhone’s hotspot to avoid having to pay for the wifi, imagine that, no ones forced me to pay for wifi for years and years, but seems like this is the way in the out lands. Three things have happened:

  • I’ve decided to combine 2 prompts from 2 of my fave followed sites; Fandango who asked me to Pick (from his FOWC) and then…
  • The Haunted Wordsmith who asked me to demonstrate  Something I can do well, which in case this post isn’t clear, is croquet.
  • I’ve just been shown an article by Mrs T in which Broadwas (a parish close to me) is asking for new members for their floundering Croquet Club.

Several years ago, in the wilderness years, when I was looking for purpose and meaning to my life I was having a conversation with a friend, we’ll call him, MCBW for the sake of anonymity as to reveal his name and the meaning of this poorly constructed acronym would exactly pinpoint him and I’m not prepared to put a friend at risk of assassination. We were sinking out fourth or fifth pint and the subject of sports came up, specifically summer sports. I was a at a pretty good boarding school which my parents saw fit to spend their money on to elevate my position within society and further my career and prospects into the future. Alas all it accomplished was to teach me how to smoke, how to roll a cigarette, a lifetimes (thus far) appreciation of Ale and Cricket (playing, but not anymore unfortunately). A love for human evolution, anthropology and the natural world and weirdly Croquet, of which A) I am quite good at and B) I was self appointed joint captain of my school’s side with my Bezzie; J (to protect his anonymity).

We searched the internet for Croquet clubs locally to us and found a likely candidate in a place called Broadwas, the pick of the bunch, the pictures of players in their whites taken at jaunty angles, smiling as they sipped minted Pimms from a high ball, men and women laughing at the fun of it all. This was the place for me, and make no mistake. MCBW said he would join too and I spiked the interest of some other mates when I told them the game is very much pro standing around drinking and smoking; it is, in many ways, the Sport of Kings and Queens, where hitting the balls through hoops and smashing your opponents across the court sits very much hand in hand with an ice cool Cider.

The chap on the phone seemed interested and after taking my details; early 40’s something male, enjoyed playing croquet barefoot and in shorts, liked the social side of the game, was schooled at a prestigious establishment (since fallen from Supposed Grace). He promised to call me back and arrange a game for both myself and MCBW, the days passed into weeks and the weeks into more days and weeks and I left several messages and by the time all these things happened, I have discovered my purpose, passed through the purple patch and was back on track.

Many years later, well today May 28th 2019, Mrs T spotted an article on the Shrawley FB site asking for interested folk to give Broadwas Croquet Club a call if they fancied a change from the norm. Well, I say folk, specifically they asked for “Retired Active Men”. They may have well asked for them to be Masons and members of the Brexit party, not to  suggest a social stereotype, but this is fucking Worcestershire, stanch leavers, staunch Tories and dare I say it suspicious of anyone more than a decade younger than them.

Well, I’m going to stir it up, I’m going to go along with some mates and teach these old timers how to rock the Croquet Court and if I do then I’ll be sure to post some more relevant photos of what Croquet actually is. Help I’m being discriminated!

 

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