Monday, July 19, 2010



Although the start of the quiz season is still some months away, the spirit is kept alive by the Waters Green Phoenix who hold a party every year. The origins go back to the team’s promotion to the A League some years ago, followed the subsequent year with a party to celebrate relegation back to where we belong. Mid table mediocrity has been the reason for subsequent parties.P1000588 copy

Nick’s home was the venue and refreshments were a wide selection of Indian dishes and a magnificent Thai starter kindly provided by Maliwan from her restaurant. Two barrels of beer kept the atmosphere lively for which we are indebted to Brian the owner of the Waters Green Tavern.

Steve (wearing stetson) brought along his guitar and entertained with a selection of songs soon to be joined by John with his squeeze box and Nathalie on guitar and even a mandolin played by neighbour Peter.

Bob the grand old man of the team (but by no means the oldest) read from his book Untold Tales of Rainow ending with the now forgotten BR slogan We’re Getting There:

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The Queen of the Iceni nation

lay underneath St. Pancras Station

proud and serene, she lay in state

still –waiting for the 12.08

Two fearsome daughters and their Mum

had come to sack Londinium.

they'd done the job and had a feast

and all-triumphant, headed East.

The Queen consulted her adviser

which form of transport was the wiser?

"My Queen", he said, "we're sitting pretty-

just put your trust in Inter-city!"

Her chariot of gold was sped

down to St. Pancras engine shed.

She checked the times and bought a seat,

first-class return to Watling Street.

The hours passed, she lost her daughters

who'd wandered off in search of porters.

The Queen, her ladies, and her men

were never to be seen again.

The centuries they came and went

until some antiquarian gent

whilst studying her erstwhile race

confirmed the old Queen's resting place.

B.R., with keen anticipation

decided on an excavation.

This find would guarantee their fame-

they'd even have a change of name.

They'd call it Boadicea Station

the latest travellers sensation!

The crowds would flock from near and far

to the "Scythe and Chariot Burger Bar'.

They dug beneath the London clay

and found where Boadicea lay.

Around her head, a golden band,

a London Saver in her hand.

The station-master, passing by

came to look, and gave a cry.

'Dear dear" he said "now don't you worry

we'll have this sorted in a hurry.

We've cleared the blockage on the line,

the train will leave at half-past nine

and as you've had a lengthy wait,

we'll only charge you off-peak rate".

The dig had been a huge success

with lots of pictures in the press.

They took her from her hallowed ground,

she left her grave, museum bound.

The Queen of the Iceni nation

has now moved three miles from the station.

Two thousand years, but don't despair –

with British Rail - WE'RE GETTING THERE.

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Tomo delved deep into the future with his tarot cards and all the food, all the beer and many bottles of wine were all finished by the end of the evening.

Many thanks to all who attended and a special thanks to Neela who worked very hard to produce the food, to Brian and Tracey for their support throughout the year, to Maliwan and to friends who came from London to attend. And perhaps most of all to Marion who had to put up with Nick’s stress-induced temper in the preparations for a hugely succesful event.