The smell of the fresh-cut grass; the ‘clunk’ of the colliding woods; the gentle and friendly handshakes at the end…
I have looked forward to this moment all winter. Things have gone a bit tits up with various professional stuff recently, and I have been a bit stressed out an’ stuff, and there is nothing quite like a relaxing game of bowls to ease one’s mind back into the pleasures of the English countryside.
“And so I started chasing… well I sort of went after him,” I explain later to the Police Sergeant, choosing my words carefully. He glances at his Constable for support. “I have to say I was pretty pumped up.”
Big A nods in agreement. “That’s when we rang you.”
The Police Sergeant alternately shakes his head and shrugs. “I can only apologise we weren’t there sooner,” he offers. “If we’d have got the message from Control…”
Nobody asks me what I was planning to do if I’d have caught the chap. I cast a nervous eye at my bag, which contains four very heavy bowls woods.
No official action is taken.