Is it October, the sky is black and it is p………. down. We, in the form of James Carr, say our thanks to the Hazelwood, they agree to have Wrench back next year – relieve all round and we travel despondent to Porchfield C.C. for the first time. At this attractive modern ground, the covers are pointless as we are greeted by Somerset for the second time this season with actually no prospect of play. We receive the final tables; our extra wicket wins us the festival – what an anti climax. Had we played five we are confidfent we would have won five but to win this way is not how we would have liked it. We enjoy another good lunch and travel to Plessey to pick up the winners shield – it is not a perpetual shield complains Carr but we can keep this one says Gibbo . We arrange an early ferry and depart somewhat despondent as Festival winners, the first in nine attempts but we did deserve to win, we were the best side on the Island . The crossing is brightened up by a very attractive blond who directed the mini bus on and off the ferry. We journey home mainly in daylight – a first and hear that wretched Something in Memphis for the thousandth time and enter the Moto services to Its Over and indeed it was, a season of high expectancy ruined by the worst weather experience in 13 years involvement.
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