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Page updated 06 June 2020

Canterbury Walking football is sponsored by and and is affiliated to

Page updated 06 June 2020


(Week 5 – 17.04.20)

This was supposed to be a special day for the club.  This evening, we should be enjoying our first date at the University of Kent, playing on the superb pitch, enjoying(?) Lance and Dave’s first warm-up and training session and, with our wives and partners present, having a ‘Spring Social’ in the Café Bar.  

Very frustrating, but it is not cancelled, just postponed.  We’ll get there!

There are some tournaments and friendlies in the pipeline, and I’ll send you details as soon as we’re up and running again.  Not least of these is the 2021 Bali Walking Football World Club Cup.  Yes, Bali!  An idyllic destination in the Pacific Ocean, some 18 hours flight away!  It’s in March next year and, if anyone’s interested, I’ll send the details out by separate email.  Current lowest airfare for those dates that I can find is £600 per person return…

It’s been good to hear what others are doing during lockdown.  Uncle Albert (Steve M) is up to his eyes in garden waste, Jonathan’s still pottering out of sight of Mrs. Butcher but, most worrying, is Cedric who has been required to decorate the lounge despite serious, heavy-duty pottering!  Up a ladder with a paintbrush is not good, Cedric, got to save yourself for football!

Talking of brushes, the saga of me oiling the garden furniture continued this week with just the large, round table to go.  I did the legs and the underneath of the top and then ran out of that oil.  No problem, I had another tin of another brand, so did the top.  It looked good so brushes, cloths and plastic sheeting were put away in the shed, I cleaned up and proudly asked Mrs. K to inspect said table.  ‘No problem’, did I say?  Silly me.  “It’s a different colour!” said the Inspector.  “Bollocks!” and worse, said the painter.  Another coat to be applied and, ‘while you’re at it’ might as well do the small table too.  “Yes, darling,” I said …or something similar.

So, I repeat the process and, what happens minutes after I’ve done it?  It rains for ten minutes – the only sodding rain we’ve had in weeks, and the tables are in the open!  There’s no justice.

The one area in which I hold sway in our house is the kitchen.  Sandy only acknowledges the existence of the washing machine and, most importantly, of the fridge-freezer because that’s where vast stocks of wine, and ice for the Pimm’s are kept.  For her, any appliances and gadgets remotely connected with cooking simply do not exist.  She used to be a nurse so can tell you exactly what every ghoulish item in a surgeon’s armoury is for, (and would occasionally like to use some of them on me!), but show her the contents of the cooking utensil drawer and she is clueless.

And so it was that I cooked a huge leg of lamb, with all the trimmings, for our Easter Sunday lunch. No mother-in-law with us this year, of course, so we plated a lunch up for her and ‘Meals on Wheels’ went into action. “What’s the orange thing in it?” she said. “You know I hate carrots!” Of course, I know, but “It’s good for your eyesight,” I said pointedly. “Bit bloody late now!”, she retorted … she’s 90 in a few weeks.  I subsequently made a huge lamb casserole with the considerable amount of meat remaining and gave her some of that too.  “You’ll be bleating after a week of lamb,” I said, cryptically.  “Baaaaaa” was her response.  Chicken Pie this weekend.  She’s not having any.

On Tuesday I was minding my own business concentrating on a gripping video on YouTube.  Sandy walked past and was brought to an abrupt halt by some of the words she was hearing … sewage, discharge, sludge, solids, semi-solids, flow, settlement, liquor, effluent.  “What on earth are you watching,” she enquired with a ‘can I get him certified?’ look.  “A household waste treatment plant film,” I said matter-of-fact-ly, “It’s fascinating.” “How can shit be fascinating?” she asked, hastily searching for the phone number of the doctor’s surgery.


You see, I have this ambition to acquire a vintage railway carriage to put in the siding here at the Old Railway Station, and restore it to include an en-suite bedroom, a small kitchen and a very large Champagne Bar!  To that end, there would have to be major plumbing changes to the property and this treatment plant fits the bill.  Besides, there are plenty of shit movies on TV at the moment, but this was a good one!

On the subject of films, I thoroughly enjoyed Dave Rayner’s online Facebook quiz last Sunday but, whilst I did OK on four rounds, I fell apart on the two movie rounds ‘Disney Villains’ and ‘Spielberg’.  Only four correct answers across both rounds.  Dave sent to me to the naughty step and I’ve been in detention, with extra homework, all week.  (You should know that, each week, he has returned printed copies of my diary to me with red ink all over them, correcting my spelling and grammar.  The last one had ‘4/10 See me’ written at the bottom.)

I have been doing a lot of work with my ‘Crazy Catcher’ keeper trainer but ‘she’ (has to be female) often gets the better of me.  Just when I’m getting a bit cocky and pleased with myself, she spits the ball out into the top right-hand corner, with me grovelling down to my left!  But that’s the idea - to keep concentrating and honing the reflexes … or so it said on the box.  

Seriously, I’m loving it, and it has shown me how much condition I’ve lost in the last few weeks, with my back and hamstrings really aching afterwards.  (My doctor has prescribed a very large gin and tonic after such a session … or I’m sure he would if I told him about it!)  Nothing can replace actually playing, of course, but we would all be sensible to get ourselves as fit as possible before we start again, or it will be very painful, and we increase the risk of injury!

So, five weeks done and at least another three to go.  I fear it will be more but, in the words of Winston Churchill …

“Keep Buggering On!”

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