Well this was a trip, and the latest Termites outing in the Herts Middlesex and Cornwall merit table. How far way is this place! Trudging through the dead eyed shopping traffic, Olly’s handsome misfits arrived at various times to meet the league leaders.

A drafty fab day for rugby saw a few of the boys wincing in the pre match huddle as the ‘100 press ups a day for a month’ saga was taking its toll on the participants. Didn’t I mention it? I do apologise, your basement beauties are squirrelling around their respective homes looking a quiet corner to knock a few out on a daily basis all in aid of cancer research. And of course you can donate at https://fundraiser.cancerresearchuk.org/page/termites100
- and a big hand to the VP lunch for some generous donations pre the 1st team victory. More on them clowns later!

Old friends Berkhamsted aren’t top for no reason. Well drilled and numerous, their game plan was high intensive physicality from the off. But never under estimate the svelte beauty of the good and grisly gnarl of the mature in this pumping machine led by our barn storming barrel of a skipper.

Ferocious from the off, we edged a well balanced scrum with Airey matured quickly at hooker in the safe arms of the meat wall of Big G and the rapidly sobering Shields. Salmon like Conor toiled against a drilled line out and our beautiful back line glided, but league leaders don’t miss tackles and their D was formidable. But not as formidable as the as the guile and stealth of the promising Lawrence and my ‘they of the match’ Mitch.

1st blood to the termites after a 20 minute arm wrestle with some fine supporting play from the front 8 around the edges of the ruck seeing our own social hand grenade Jack power over, much to the relief of the generally unplayable Roberts who sniffed the chalk and got clattered a yard out - forwards to the rescue, again. Note to Byrne and Gawthorne, playing like seasoned back row teak under the gloomy Cornwall skies.

A charged down conversion from the normally laser eyed and lovable beer feeder Albon kept it tight. Back to the back line who shortly after sliced through the oppo to send shock waves across the league, Mitch dancing over to calm the nerves. Albon having none of the calm opted for a 10 minute rest and Berko responded with a converted try to take us into the not oranges 10 v 7 in front. I can hardly contain myself here - just off to knock a few out - in aid of charity. The link is above if you want to donate.

I’m back. A few changes at half time saw no change to the intensity. The oppo game plan remained the same - substance rather than style, leading to one of there’s having a wee rest. Not to be out done, the normally charming athlete Johnstone decided to sit on someones head and have his own 10 minutes break. Fractious is was becoming until some wonderful hands by Donovan, Lawrence and Scottis, seeing the latter GQ style icon glide over. His converted try saw us comfortable at 17 v 7 with 10 to go. Berko we’re having none of it. A converted try took us into the final minutes 17 - 14 in front - clinging to a 3 point lead is always harder than chasing a 5 point victory, the sin bins and the hill took its toll and they scored and dented, momentarily, the steel hearts of your stormtroopers. Nowt to be ashamed of here. A treat for the on looking masses and great to get out at last after a few weeks of no opposition.

After the game skipper Gawthorne said in the press conference ‘for gods sake get the pronouns rights if you’re gonna write that garbage, where’s Albon, he owes me a beer

Changing room bants don’t change. Todays fragrant delight was a little back of the cupboard dusty number called Next Code Red, no where near the pungent hite our own Billy gets donated by his in laws but good enough to spray in the wounds and send the theys home with a good chance of getting pregnant. New boy Chris balked at the tradition ‘ it gonna spoil me Goochi’ he blathered. Drenched in code red he was.

Back at Hoe Lane, the club was bouncing, Kevs food had meat in it, honest, and some things on top resembling dumplings - and great to see the 1s bagging a win. And in some style I hear. Which is more can be said the most pathetic and hilarious attempt at a 3 ‘they’ 1st team Pernod, ever, one of them who will remain nameless, trying to fish out some lamb strands mid gargle. Needless to say, none of them completed the task. Shameful.

Enjoy this folks, lose the excuses and make yourself available, it doesn’t last forever and our hearts are with Big Doddie and his family.

Sheilds, Airey, Van Der Ryst, Collins, Scully, Gawthorne, Humphries, Byrne, Roberts, Albon, Donovan, Lawrence, Hyde, Mcatamamanay, Brewer, Johnstone, Risley, Mark

Att 49