2017 Croquet Season

The end of every summer is always a time to reflect
On the season that’s past, before we once more reconnect.
I am thinking particularly of the venues provided by our hosts,
And I find it next to impossible, and unwise, to choose which one I prefer most.

At William’s, what’s there to like when one’s ball trundles down some vertiginous slope?
You can feel inclined to despair, and abandon all reasonable hope.
Or it may seem to disappear, curving into some grassy hollow.
Any golfer might exclaim: ‘lordy me, what’s that if it’s not a borrow!’

Yet is difficult to think of anything else that can match
William’s achievement in converting this particular patch.
Footballers and boule players, evening strollers and kids,
Should marvel at this apparition that’s appeared in their midst.

Now let us turn to Upton Bishop, and I make no apology
For calling this the headquarters of garden shed-ology.
As Lila lays her plans I can almost hear her say:
‘In which of these sundry palaces shall we give them their tea today?’

But, beware afficionados, this is the home of the ‘best ball’,
With players alternating their turns, and that is Richard’s call.
We are at the house of the Master, a true perfectionist.
This is a visit that’s quite definitely not a one to be missed.

Back up the A49 we find another pioneer.
George and Sarah have crafted a new estate, and made their fruit farm disappear.
A lawn has materialised as if by magic – it is certainly not a fake,
And no, that’s not a swamp close by, that’s an ornamental lake.

The Baron of Hentland holds sway nearby, in a deeply rural enclave.
James sports a style like no other and he is also a bit of a knave.
With a mallet of unique construction, and displaying a talent almost exotic,
The effect of this heady mix is borderline quixotic.

Although it is a little further for some, heading down to Ganarew,
This visit is ever a pleasure and, hopefully, known only to few.
Colin’s lawn has a surface to die for, in a setting that’s always a treat.
Dare one mention cucumber sandwiches, making our collective pleasures complete?

And now this doggerel’s journey comes (at last) to its final stop.
Yes, it is our Captain’s abode, his base camp at Low Cop.
Another scene of perfection – there is truly nothing to mock.
But if you do you will be suitably punished, and obliged to view Andrew’s clock!

Like all our hosts, Andrew and Heather miss not a trick to delight us.
Hospitality abounds, we cant fail to relax, for there is no unnecessary fuss.
And now, another season ends, and hoops, balls and mallets are put away
Until next spring arrives with Andrew’s schedule for more croquet.