Sophie Hughes and the Special Question

An alarm clock? On a Sunday?? I couldn't believe it. Weeks ago Jof said she'd kindly volunteered our services to do some work on the Cricket Club pavilion. Demolition of the toilet block was mentioned, as an extra sweetener.

This is a charity or volunteering initiative from Jof's work. They do this sort of thing every now and then, we did one a couple of years ago in which we painted a rather elderly cricket pavilion in Fareham (which was subsequently demolished a few months later), but we got free T-shirts and tickets to a cricket match at the Rose Bowl and I got to meet a new swing-park so it was a winner overall.

But today was cold and grey and windy. Let's cycle down there, they said. It'll be fun, they said. So I was already in a bad mood because it seems like I'm cycling everywhere every day and why can't they just drive me around in my own limousine like normal.

So I trailed behind a bit, as you do, and when we got there Jof said are you OK and I said no, it's all his fault. He said what, you never told me you were angry again and I said well no, that's because I wasn't talking to you because I was angry with you. Apparently this is a female trait.

This is the Cricket Club that my friends and I used to play at on Friday nights until my swimming lessons got in the way and the others went to a different club with a bigger bar.

But then we were given our jobs so I dug up some weeds, and I pulled the old dead climbers off the fence. Jof made tea and provided biscuits and Bud put the nets on the net cages and spent 3 hours tying them on.

I got to use sandpaper on the benches and then used the electric sander as well, and we lashed the covers onto those wheelie-cover things they put out on the cricket square when it rains during a match, and I moved scaffolding poles around and actually it was all rather good, as long as any job I have doesn't last more than half an hour or I'll get bored. A vast motorbike rally along the seafront lent a surreal, noisy and smoky air to the proceedings.

Then we tried out the newly netted nets, because you've got to see if they were fit for purpose, and I had an orange plastic bat for the official Volunteering photo and I hit the tennis ball lots and it was good.

At about this point, a single-engine plane flew past with a special message banner saying WILL YOU MARRY ME SOPHIE HUGHES, we never found out whether she did, she could have been on the toilet when it went past.

The cycle ride back home was much easier, and hey whaddya know, there was a message from Ben saying come play with me. This is why my life always falls into place and the little huffs, tantrums and potholes in the highway of existence are swiftly forgotten. At Ben's we Minecrafted and played computer games and talked rubbish for hours and I took my giant Nerf gun and it was ace.