A Shrimper's Saturday

Instead of playing cricket for Gravesend CC Shrimpers, I spent this particular Saturday afternoon wallowing in the shallows of the Mediterranean, turning from prawn to salmon through factor 30. I've been out of my depth in all sorts of ways and I'm not taking any chances in the Med. I'd been listening or not listening to the French couple on the next towel if you know what I mean, Harry. (Not that Harry nor that one). They were replaced by some Americans who I couldn't avoid understanding so as not to think the unthinkable I inflated the inflatable and went out to sea in the beautiful pea green boat to look at the pussy and to see how I could get a reference in to the owl.

After an hour or so they went so I returned to the shore to join my wife who was half dozing, exhausted by an hour's hard listening with one eye on an equally annoying German Michael Schumacher look-alike playing catch with his friend at the water's edge. He hit his mate straight between the eyes with the ball. My wife remarked "He's quite a marksman. He'd make a good bowler for the 2nds." "He chucked it." I said "His arm was bent. He's full of sh**. He couldn't hit a barn door. I'd say the opposite." I ranted. "I think he's a bad marksman. One who shoots but can't hit." The connection with the owl was made and like the chucker it was a constipated one.

"Was that a little taste of a Shrimper's Saturday camaradie?" She asked. "He didn't say sorry to his mate, and he didn't say Kamerade to me, so like Michael Schumacher he must be in a higher league and will be used to the abuse."

We had a lot to carry off the beach and I expect I undid all the good that the Med had done for my bowling arm. "Would you like a hand?" It was the Schumachers. "Thank you very much." I replied. We chatted away merrily back to the cars, leaving any edges Shrimpers style strictly on the field or in this case beach of play.

As usual on a Shrimpers Saturday I was so knackered that I went to bed early. My wife told me in the morning that she had spent a marvellous evening in the company of the Spanish family next door. It had continued through the whole of the night into the early hours of the morning. "I didn't wake you." She said. " I know how you enjoy your Shrimpers Saturdays."