Our scheduled opposition didn't show, possibly fearing they would be crushed by the Shanes juggernaut. Some likely lads who were just hanging around the place were welded into a fighting unit by Merv and took us on. They actually played very well, and we were in trouble at 0-4. We got back into the game, details elude me now.
We were one shot up with one end left. Their lead sent down a corker that stopped dead centre about a metre short. My first was a backhand that snuck in around him and carried the kitty away beautifully. His 2nd was a bit long and wide. My second was a forehand that nudged the kitty back towards my first into a beautiful ménage à trois. Probably my finest ever pair of bowls.
As usual, my work was given scant respect by those who followed. The lead is like a conceptual artist, and unless someone takes the trouble to document his ephemeral work, no trace of it remains at the end of the performance. My sensitive bowlcraft was blown away by a bloke called Nathan with full-blooded drive (at his 2nd attempt), but we hung on to take a point and the match.