Very moved by Ghandi as a teen. Also Dumbo when slightly younger. Various "French" films …cant remember names of. … DIVA was one, and another by the same director. Quite liked Terminator. Saw Aerplane when it first came out in the cinema, I thought it was funny then (I was but a child) -Don't see many films tho'. I do like that Quentin Tarratino chap. His earlier pieces. And always enjoy films by that little geeky African- American guy, cant remember his name… oh Spike Lee, that's him. Fantastic.

Last film I saw was the one about the blind American jazz(!) pianist/singer… woss is name… ray something. It was alright. Harry Potter wasn't very good. Quite liked The Incredibles, but it wasn't as great as the hype. Always tended as a youth to watch films on TV, therefore have known and loved such classics as The Great Escape, Papillion, the entire oeuvre of Rock Hudson & Doris Day; Bing Crosby and Bob Hope; Laurel and Hardy; Tom and Jerry (who have branched out into excellent ice cream, to add to above food list). Some like it hot (was that the one with Marilyn and the cross dressers?) John Wayne, various other 'Westerns'…

Ah, where to start? The tenacity of the Fox (he'll never give up! At least, not while Boots still have supplies), the lithe and responsive fielding of mr Rob
Chase (well named), the cool, calm, collected deliberations of the Goughmeister, the beautiful 'second' position that DT adopts when lowering himself to the floor to field a ball (Darcy Bussell - look and learn!), the tiger-like pounce of the Durnall - the Sher Khan of the team - the delightful obscurity of the Fitz delivery ( btw -"Tender is the Flight" -Scott Fitzgerald, 'Tender is the Night', will no-one admit that's a good effort for gods sake?!).

The stiff upper lip, and tough chin (!), of the Skip (never too afraid to expose us to his bowling, no matter what the cost - or for that matter, to expose his fatty jaw line in attempting a terrific stroke), the dashing good looks of Desperate Dan, aka "shagger", and the dashing after the ball once he's bowled it over all our heads, Paul "Flipper" Stephens -named not only for his
charmingly honest 'special' delivery that pops up every now and then, but also for his uncanny likeness to those peaceful angels of the sea, the Dolphins - so trusting, tranquil and full of repose, even in adversity. His rotund magnificence, the lord mayor Sir Mark Stephens, his hands cruelly weakened from years of wringing out exquisite wristy shots and bone shattering spin bowling beyond compare; Dr Rubbish - how those legs ever agree to move in a synchronised manner long enough for him to cycle anywhere is surely a miracle of mind over matter; Talking Horse, the sly, shy, diffident intellectual, his scholarly approach will serve him well as long as Pol Pot (aka Chris Ryde) doesn't take over the team; Talk of the Devil, like a good pub landlord Chris is always ready to open… (and happy for you to get a round in) -his apparent Vicar of Dibley impression is quickly dispatched however as he screams "YYYEEESSSS" when encouraging a fellow cricketer to attempt a single (and dispensed with entirely when run out by the Horse); and there is WINKY (no, its not a clever nickname simon, you have to admit. Hood -Hoodwink-Winky. You just like shouting "winky" out loud, bringing back memories of outraging your mother when, as a child, you would run naked, but for a pair of your sisters wellingtons, around the village green bellowing out the Gough-family word for PENIS) but it is better than my pathetic attempt …Hood -Hoody-Hoody wearer- ASBO! Maybe Andy Hood defies all attempts to be reduced to anything other than the straight-as-a-die-honest-injun-sober (take note Dan) fast-ish (none of us is getting any younger) bowler of quality that he is. Will, Big Willy, smacker of the Ball, eater of the Tea, at one with the Willow - Just William! (Richmal crompton rotates slowly in her grave).

Elvis, aka junior, little furnham (shurley shome mishtake) the spielberg of the team, or is that the Ron Jeremy? Ever the determined team player, he always goes for his shots, no matter how hard it is to hold the camera still when running after teenage joggers. We are but the readers wives of the willow league in his capable hands as he films our every move and sometimes some cricket.. MUFF. Hmmm. His mother beat us to it. He was much missed during his long sojourn, not so missed now he is hanging around all the time; a truly casual player, and bringing much needed machismo to the team when appearing on his Motor Bike (take note cyclists). Shame he's not taller.

J.P. Furnham … john 'pisser' furnham, fond of urinating (p is also for Pernod, which exacerbates the other problem) from the waist down he is
every inch the young talented triple jump athlete: above the waist he is a pie mountain, but he still runs faster than me!

Jeff, enslaved now in a fetishistic bondage relationship with his DOM partner, so not as available as he used to be… that's right readers, he's a little tied up these days. What a joy to watch him charging in off a pace and beguile the smug faced batsman whose last memory is the sound of jeff's whiring shoulder quickly followed by the sticks shattering behind him - or the short plosive swear word as the delivery defeats the wicky (usually me) yet again.

Our overseas player was a delight; I still have no idea what he said but conversation was a pleasure nonetheless and his batting always fun to watch as he took apart the bowling, inspiring jealousy in the oppo's minds. What a load of crap that he has to travel the world for his stupid job! Reconsider your priorities immediately Srini! But wait, we have a bubbling brew of young blood here at home, in the form of the three witches J K & C. Beware their premonitions, for they see the future -winners, yet never champions will we be, as the wood of willow comes to Dinsinane and he, not of mother born, shall be king … … … it can only be … … … MANISH!!!

Chris Ryde getting run out by ED.

Rob Chase taking a balletic and
sublimely athletic catch after everyone had agreed not to get the batsman out, various shots by Dr Rubbish, every time Mark stands on a ball, Fitzy getting loads of wickets, me getting a wicket, me getting fifty (oh how I laughed)

Rob giving JP out on 99. catching one of my own team whilst fielding for the oppo. Watching my team mates run to congratulate me as I lay on the grass having taken a superb high catch… only to see them run straight past, cursing, to look for the ball which I had tossed, test cricket styley, into the long grass behind me. Rob running 'sans box'. Dan wanging the ball in -when I'm NOT keeping! Many more, too little time…

Steveo has made his 'mark' on many a player in the team - the following poem was written by a former skipper during the season of '06:

It's not about the games you're picked for
But rather the ones you're not
The majority think they play enough
One feels he's been left to rot

Who the Casz that could feel this way
I hear the team cry out loud
Well read on my dear Casz
As he would stand out (& be heard) in any crowd

He has plenty to say as he isn't shy
this curly haired dirty rascal
Another clue if you need one
is that he hails from the Elephant & Castle

He hits hard and he hits it long
with his trusty plank of wood
Imagine what his average would be
if only the straight hit he could

I remember once at Clytha
four sixes did he blast
But at the beginning of the over
bets were taken on how many balls he'd last

Many moons ago at St Mellons
whist on the pitch without a bat
This player claimed a wicket
with the loudest ever recorded HOWAZAAAAAAAAAT ?