I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already. The 3 days since Old Boys have passed as quickly as the weekend itself.

As always, it was great to see everyone again.

I will refrain from a long list of greetings to everyone. You all know how I feel about you. Whatever I have said every year…ditto.
Friday 10th November

A wise man once said that the best way to start Old Boys weekend is to park the car in a traffic jam for 90 minutes between junction 21 & junction 22 on the M5. The emergency services had their reasons I suppose (as indicated by a large white tent and a lacky powerwashing the tarmac at the scene of the incident) but it was still frustrating. It hasn’t taken 5 hours to get to Sean’s place since the first time I went about 10 years ago and got lost.

Such was the lateness of the hour that we set off from Sean’s place for Dover almost immediately. We paused only so that i could leave my spare camera memory card in the boot of my own car. I am an idiot.

We booked into The County at about 4pm. Room 109 didn’t fail to live up to the standards of previous years. The lovely grey white towels. The explosion of loose tiles in the bathroom. The bath taps and shower controls that long ago lost their red and blue labels. Once again I tried to get the radio next to the bed to work - without success. If you want to watch TV and charge your mobile phone, you have to pull the dressing table out about 12 inches to reveal a well hidden double socket. The bed was servicable but would I am a 3 pillow man and the two flat linen pasties on the bed were not up to the task. In the end, I stuffed two t-shirts in one and the spare bath towel in the other. Luckily, deep sleep was not an issue anyway. The HGV drivers of europe did their best to see to that. When you first enter the room, you think that the maid has left the balcony door open to let a bit of air in. Unfortunately, this is not the case. On pulling back the curtain you see that the door is tight shut. Opening it lets in a noise last heard at Bikini Atoll in the 50s.

The churlish amongst you are probably asking “what do you expect for £45 a night?”. Well Joe spent a much nicer weekend in The Churchill for £40 a night. I think we may join him next year.

I popped out at 4.30 to buy some healthy snack food and water for the room whilst Sean popped over to Dover Priory to meet Stan, Shotty and Stivs. Stan and Sean were waiting outside my room when I returned. Stan said I looked amazing and who am I to argue.

Me and Sean invested in a curry at the place next to The County (the name of which still elludes me) which seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, 4 or 5 hours later it still was very much with both of us.

We descended on The Britannia at about 7 which wasn’t as packed as Friday in previous years. Unfortunately, they had added 4 bouncers and a DJ to their staff since last we visited. The DJ, who looked like he had just escaped from McFly in his red tie and black shirt, played VERY LOUD music. Normally, I don’t have a problem with this but it is bloody annoying when you are trying to have a conversation with someone you haven’t seen for 2 years. By 11pm, I had no voice whatsover. The music started off with some very modern stuff which put Joe and myself firmly in grumpy old man mode. Joe just kept asking if it was Green Day and eventually he was correct. I think Stan must have had a word because he switched to early 80s stuff that matched so closely the contents of my Ipod that I wondered if he had pinched it.

Young Stivs managed to get himself ejected by the bouncers at just about the same time that we had all had enough anyway. He was only singing and having a good time.

Saturday 11th November

Off into Dover first thing for a £12 haircut. Certainly more than I have spent in a long while and certainly the first time I have been offered a coffee in a barber’s. How I was suppose to drink it when draped in an all-over body blanket was something not explained to me.
I walked past the British Legion chaps with their poppies and little crosses you could have banged into the ground next to the name of your preferred regiment or branch of the armed services. I had a little cross placed in front of “Paratroops” and for the first time in my 38 years, thanked the guy personally for what they did. He grew about 2 inches in that way that only old soldiers can do and assured me it was a privilege in way that left you in no doubt of his sincerity.

We made it to Crabble for the Rugby against Dover RFC at about 1pm. I had never been to that part of Dover before and was amazed again at the size of Dover. We really did live in our own little world when we were at school. We knew Guston, the two roads into Dover and the High Street. That’s pretty much it really. As Mr Mansfield put it, we never went further than Turner’s Model shop.

Dover RFC looked after us well and Shotty had organized another fine event. The OBA Rugby strip looked great and I am pretty sure that all the spares sold out pretty quickly.

Our sole representative in the Over 30s match was Ian Kennett. Proud winner of the man-of-the-match shield last year was determined to repeat his success but an unfortunate injury after only a few minutes play dashed those plans. So bad was his injury that it kept him for the pub that night and the parade the next day. I hope you feel better soon mate.

I was watching the match with much scrutiny and can confirm we won.

At about 4pm we returned to The County and popped out for something to eat. I knew my diet would be screwed by the weekend. I did my best but I not going to weigh myself for a week or so.

TBC

Categories: DYRMS
Tags: