Golden Ache-er

As a small boy I was forced, complaining onto these golden rugby fields to suffer no-end of hard-knocks, verbal abuse, freezing rain, snow, ice and a ride home on the number 23 bus covered head to toe in mud.

I happened to be passing there again this morning and snuck-in for a quick blip.

It's all much more modern now and looked quite beautiful this glorious morning.

I thought I caught a whiff of "Deep Heat" and the ghostly cries of the young lads who inadvertently strayed into the path of the javelin team.

I hated it then but time is a great healer.