There’s another Basingstoke festival memory that sticks in my mind. One of the regular Salisbury male players (let’s call him…….’Air’) was a big hit with the opposite sex (well, at least that’s how he always viewed it…….mostly through rose tinted beer goggles). Anyhow, this particular Basingstoke festival, we had a mixture of experienced players and, because we were short, some of the ladies’ junior players came to join us on
Moving on from the fabulous Worthing, there followed numerous trips to HMS Dryad’s mixed festival (one year HMS Sultan I think), Basingstoke mixed festival, Rickmansworth and Swanage. Some of the stories I simply can’t tell you, but my highlights include…… Basingstoke I remember chatting to a young girl in the bar on the Friday night with some of my team mates. The girl in question was part of a team
While Worthing was probably the biggest ‘ticket’ in town so to speak, it wasn’t the only one. Other mixed festivals that involved staying over (always camping) included HMS Dryad, HMS Sultan, Basingstoke, Rickmansworth and Swanage. The camping in itself, at times, could be as much of an adventure as the rest of the weekend. Putting your own tent up alongside a team full of (generally) intoxicated hockey players is a
Continuing on from my last blog about mixed hockey festivals, here are some of the most memorable moments, well for me anyway. • The most amazing ice cream fight at one of the venues, during a break from the hockey. With nearly the entire team having acquired Mr Whippy ice creams, the chaos was started by yours truly when, I said, “My ice cream tastes okay, but smells really funny.”
In my previous post, I told you how it all started….well for me anyway. The trip to Lowestoft with the Haunchers was wonderful and led to a whole host of great times……none more so than playing mixed hockey. Before I tell you any more, I should say that in the last couple of months I’ve had the opportunity to renew my acquaintance with this wonderful form of the game, after
Last Saturday I had the pleasure of playing in a mixed friendly game (well, four lots of 20 minutes) with a whole load of great people from Salisbury hockey club. After a quick shower, I grabbed a drink and joined everyone in the function room of the fantastic, relatively new clubhouse. While everyone sat socialising and tucking into the delicious food provided, my attention turned to the scene I gazed upon out
As a 13 year old I received a phone call late on the Thursday night before Easter. “Would you like to play hockey tomorrow?” I was asked. (Yes GT it was you, do you remember?) I remember at the time thinking, “How odd! Normally hockey is played on Saturday.” Nevertheless, I jumped at the chance, already being obsessed with my chosen sport, even at, what was then, a very early