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It was Odds-on that Absent wouldn't be there, but the tour must go on
and Steadyly they made their way to Hatt where the letters of the Holland Inn
lay nestled like the letters of Hollywood in the L.A. hills. Tea Time came
and went, "You shouldn't have ordered the Goat, Boy", was the cry
from the Doc, but it was OK, we
always had a Supersub. The Cat, resembling an Easy Tiger supped Stoggs at the
bar, Iron Handles on the toilet doors signified the class of the joint, which
was soon brought down when the landlord exited with a de-Blocker. We stayed
up into the small hours in anticipation of shouting "I've Scored"
at the wicket the next day, and off we drifted to our humble abodes to ponder
the day, as Polonius himself must have pondered what was to be or not to
be....
It rained.
‘Hoskins’
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