Snopper

AFC Maldives?

Perhaps he had a virus in his ankle?

I`m annoyed by the new verb `to medal.` `To meddle` is fair enough but not `to medal`. To be fair.

Agreed. We need a little time and a little patience.

We`re up to 16th now.:-)

What a personable fellow is Justin Rose - a credit to himself, to Hampshire and to golf.

I`m enjoying the cycling of course and I enjoy Chris Boardman`s knowledgeable insight. At the London Olympics he was alongside Hugh Porter and together they made the best commentating team for events at which they had both excelled and knew inside out. This time we have BBC place man Simon Brotherton, who is doing his best but annoyingly tends to mask his inexperience in cycling with a constant babble and arcane `facts` about the participants. It ain`t the same without High Porter, who was dumped by the BBC in 2013 - largely because he was 73 - and replaced by the younger man. It`s the Beeb being ageist again and once more the viewer/listener is the loser.

Adam Blackmore`s posted it on Twitter too. Must be right.

Well said, Sir. Always sad indeed and especially for those of us who still have the memories of those long ago days.

Maybe Ronald would `recommend` someone?

More a case of what I`m not watching and maybe it`s just me but I can`t bear to watch Michael McIntyre, who, masquerading a a `comedian,` must be the most annoying tit on TV.

This !! Just have a look at Ted`s statue for confirmation of Leon`s support for the club in those dark times.

I went to schoolo in Hythe with `Billy Scammell` who became William Scammell - a leading poet, critic and biographer. One of his poems described life for a boy in a small `village by the sea`......... GREEN OVER BLUE The village by the sea was deadly boring to a boy for waves struck at the pier only because the pier was there and great liners sailed off to encounter the world leaving their agitated wash fraying the shallows of the beach where seagulls muscled in on a dead salmon bruised quiet as mud, then clapped off screeching like Baptists. The second coming if there was to be one took the form of wave or leaf or swimmable New Forest streams, a fallen log across that clear and meditative face. What can be done with a tree but climb it? And a rusty yew that won`t turn into Robin`s bow or bend across a naked knee. with hazel arrows, hard to fledge, cut green and perfect from the hedge? Old Fraser had barbed wire tweeds, club tie, an arctic glare all week. His short black cane barked even the hardest palm. You weren`t to shout. On Poppy Day he wore his medals. Penelope Young, the robin of our class. God gave to smile at me at last. She offered up her face. I bit a portion of her apple cheek and chewed it half a lifetime, till I`d grown around that secret smile – the russet and the leaf that hides its growing. Still the waves lap at me. If not sea it was the Cotswolds or the northern fells for cities rose and fell in a flash and my flesh was somehow grass imprinted on that village hue; in either case green over blue chasing each other, as the weight of tides broke on the Isle of Wight or shadows of low jets were thrown like tomahawks across Old Man. Love in a mist, love`s origin In sudden hapless parenting – what grey roof or pavement could assuage a heart, as well as mud? I`ve circled all the globe, I`ve known the rich and grown a slave, pitched my tent in New York`s glare, been to Japan, been everywhere that offered spells to educate a stubborn mind, a backward heart lost now to all but that low roar in wind, the sea upon the shore.

Just finished it - a clever novel deserving of its popularity. To me, living in the sticks of a Kent village, it seemed to capture some of the reality of what living in London must be like these days - or at least my perception of it.

A real credit to himself and the club - good to see him showing his qualities out of a good organisation.

Done!

Probably get a three game ban.

Good question - anyone got an answer please?

Simon Gillet has signed for Posh on a month long loan from Yeovil.

For once, I`d settle for a 0-0 draw.

Could be - according to Wikipedia Vic Cannings is 96! He took 927 wickets at 22 in 265 matches for the county - one of my many boyhood heroes after my parents first took me to Northlands Road in 1949 when Hampshire played New Zealand.

I see that the couple who came forward a week `late` to claim the £32million Lottery win are a Mr. ad Mrs. Cannings of Lincolnshire. They were visiting Mr. Cannings` elderly parents, Victor and Joan in Datchet, Berkshire, when he decided to pop out and buy fish and chips and, on the spur of the moment, bought five lucky dips. The name rang a bell and I wonder whether his father is the same Vic Cannings who was a stalwart bowler, along with Derek Shackleton, for Hampshire for so many years.

Thank goodness for heroes like him - do they make `em like that any more?

I imagine one vote will do it. I hope it`s mine

Into my heart on air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again (A Shropshire Lad - AE Houseman) Always makes me pine for the fair lanes and days of my Hampshire boyhood.......