It never rains in Southern California

At Sedgley Park on the other hand...

I have not seen much of Lancashire's campaign in the rugby union County Championship for the Bill Beaumont Cup this year, sticking with football for the end of the North West Counties League season. However, I was free for the last game, against Cheshire, at the familiar venue of Sedgley Tigers (or Park, as those of us of a traditional bent pronounce it). The weather in Manchester was as expected, with the air close enough to give me an urgent desire to open a window, until I remembered I was already outdoors.

I am always surprised by the number of spectators at these games wearing wellingtons. Facilities vary between grounds, and the authorities are not as keen as in football to ensure you stay on the hard standing, but even so, it seems like overkill. Wet weather protection was, however, needed quickly after the kick off, as a large cloud dumped its load on us.

You do not expect to see steam coming off the scrum at this time of year.

Once the rain had passed, the light was fairly even, with the sun occasionally poking through light cloud. There were more dark clouds in the distance, which I hoped would not bring more rain, as I had a line of washing out to dry.

I experimented a bit with the resulting images. A disadvantage of shooting in raw is the extra processing time, so I was looking to speed this up. I tried the ViewNX 2 software that came with the camera. If I want to make changes to the raw file, it does not have any speed advantages over Photoshop Elements, and indeed seems considerably slower. However, if the only changes could as easily be made to the jpg, it offers a batch conversion. As this uses a lot of cpu resource and little memory or disk, whereas editing uses the opposite, I can start editing as soon as a couple of jpgs have emerged from the process.

The results seemed quite crisp.

It was not always as clear what was going on.

It even looked at one point as though the referee was thinking of making a move with the ball.

Lancashire have been successful in these encounters for the last few years, with the county almost being an extension of the successful Fylde sides, and reaching seven successive Finals. With a number of players appearing to have retired, and a change of management at Fylde, Lancashire's dominance looks to be slipping, with the visitors securing a clear win to claim the place in the Final. Things were worse the other side of the Pennines, with Yorkshire finishing bottom of the group.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here.

Final score: Lancashire 11 Cheshire 27.

Playing off

A few years ago, on a trip to Italy, our group were surprised, at Pisa's ground on a midweek afternoon in late May, to find a match. As far as we could work out, this was a post season friendly. Prescot Cables had one such at New Mills last weekend, filming for an advert, followed by a hog roast for the players. I am not sure about the latter's attraction for spectators, not only can you watch the team play, you can watch them eat too. I was tempted, but the noon kick off was a deterrent.

I therefore left them to it, and headed for the North West Counties League Division 1 play off between Barnton and Bacup Borough. The visitors have returned to their original name after experimenting with Bacup of Rossendale Borough for reasons I never understood, but which seemed to have something to do with a witch. At least, I think that is what their local paper said.

I arrived at Lime Street Station to find Paul from the Train Crew had the same idea, but our train to Warrington would be late enough to miss the bus. Not that we worked that out from the departures board, where it was shown as on time, but the incoming stock was arriving after it was due to depart. Richie, our leader in beer and pub choices, was to join us in Warrington, so a quick call confirmed that his wife, Sharon, was happy to drive us in return for lunch, which we enjoyed at the Holly Bush, off the A49.

In Barnton, we adjourned to the Cricket Club, only to find they open the bar at 1pm only in the football season, waiting until 4pm once the cricket is under way. To be fair, almost everyone in the ground looked to be playing, and keeping a pint at square leg is not as popular as it used to be. Inter sport co-operation in Barnton had slipped, as a fair proportion of the 549 people at the football may have enjoyed the range of ales not available elsewhere.

Barnton has a fairly basic ground, with a small stand and a covered standing area opposite, although I believe they are adding a couple of modular stands over the summer. My preferred position would have been towards the bottom of the slope on the dugout side, but this was fenced off due to not having hard standing, so I stood on the opposite side. Once it became apparent the crowd was sensibly occupying the area anyway, I was already settled.

For the second week in succession, I was watching black and white versus yellow and blue.

The sun was frequently permitting "the base contagious clouds to cover up his beauty from the world" (I would have been able to take up Newcastle Benfield's offer of free entry on recital of a Shakespeare speech a couple of weeks previously), although not so much "being wanted he may be more wondered at", more playing havoc with my exposures and the temperature.

Former Prescot Cables players were represented, with Barnton's Richie Mottram ...

... and Joe Fielding.

I see a lot of headers (which, given the way the SLR camera works, means I miss the best photos). However, my timing has worked here, and the shape of the ball looks quite alarming.

I am not sure where the referee was telling the players to position themselves.

Barnton had the best of the play in the first half, but never looked like scoring, despite the advantage of the slope. They still dominated in the second half, but we wondered by the end if it was possible to skip extra time on the grounds no-one looked like scoring however long they had. I was glad we had come by car, as the last bus to Warrington was not long after normal time: extra time would have meant a bus via Northwich, and penalties would have got me home at about 10pm.

For the last 30 minutes, I went behind the goal at the bottom of the slope, and experimented with looking through the net. You want a hint of net ...

... but too much can make the picture look cloudy.

The hosts defied my prediction, and scored twice to secure promotion in line with their league form.

The rest of the pictures from the game can be seen here.

Final score: Barnton 2 Bacup Borough 0

West Craven and Roger Moor

Having enjoyed my trip to Nelson, I decided for the last week of the North West Counties League season to head for the hills again. My choice was limited, as Nelson and Colne were away. Matt from the Lost Boyos was visiting Padiham, but I wanted to go somewhere I have not been, so I gave him a cheery wave on Twitter as I went through Burnley, and travelled on to Barnoldswick Town, who were entertaining Atherton Collieries.

I decided to walk part of the way from Colne, so I took a route above Foulridge Tunnel and down to the towpath of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. An information board told me the name of Foulridge comes from foals the Anglo Saxons used to graze in the area. Not that it lived up to that, with grazing mainly by sheep.

Mutton and Lamb

Barnoldswick is in West Craven, administratively in the Pendle District. These pages observe traditional sporting boundaries, so I was heading to Yorkshire, and carried a flat cap to comply with local sumptuary requirements. The County Brook forms the historic boundary, and we can just see it here between the trees. Broad Sunlit Uplands are on the right, although readers in Yorkshire may disagree.

Matt told me the town is known locally as Barlick. I am never sure what to make of information like this - have the locals half forgotten the real name, or do outsiders using the local name draw the incomprehension of a French waiter when you apply an incorrectly gendered ending? I took the bus for the last mile or so, and the driver of the rather plush Witch Way seemed happy to accept the formal name.

After a quick look round, I headed to the ground. Manchester once had a Sanitary Street (now called Anita Street), as the Victorian builders were proud their houses were connected to the new sewers. The bygone civic and sporting fathers of Barnoldswick were presumably equally proud of their drainage arrangements. Fortunately, on this occasion we were upwind of the adjacent works.

I took up position on the stand side. I am a great believer in sponsorship: if it moves, stick an advert on it; if it does not, nail an advert to it. All the neat fence panels had been sponsored.

Regardless of the result, Atherton would finish third in the League. However, they still had the finals of the Bolton Hospital Cup and the MEN United Cup (League Cup) the following week. It was no surprise to see a few of those who played against West Didsbury and Chorlton a couple of weeks previously, when the League Championship was still a possibility, not present or on the bench.

We enjoyed a competitive game in midfield, but the hosts took full advantage of the situation, quickly establishing a lead.

This is a ground where you can quite easily watch football and cricket at the same time, but that would have meant looking in to the sun for the former, so I stayed put.

For the last few minutes of the second half, I moved to the town side of the dugouts, and wished I had done so before, as I had not noticed when I came in that the ground has a slight slope towards this end, with the advantages of the lower shooting position that this provides.

Barnoldswick eventually scored five, with the one consolation for the visitors, whose approach paid off with their subsequently winning both cups.

The hosts were keen to get ready for maintenance over the summer, with the players taking the goalposts down before they got changed - only pausing to ensure I was not brained with the crossbar as I passed them on the way out.

I then adjourned to the Barlick Tap (a use of the abbreviated name aimed at all), for a pint, electricity for my phone, and an unscheduled chat with a chap with a dog, who seemed very keen to sell the attractions of my getting a bigger rucksack to fit a tent, and camping in a random field in the area.

As for the title of this post - I raised an eyebrow when I found the dark bit at the top of the hill in the background really is called Roger Moor.

The pictures from the game can be seen here, and the scenery can be seen here.

Final score: Barnoldswick Town 5 Atherton Collieries 1

On the way to (Little) Wembley

Whilst the Northern Premier League has completed its season, there are still two weeks of games in the North West Counties League. I wanted to go somewhere I have not been to before, and the forecast looked pleasant enough for a walk in the East Lancashire hills. Colne, Nelson and Barnoldswick were all at home, so I was assisted in my choice when Matt from the Lost Boyos tweeted that he was going to Nelson, entertaining Maine Road, so I decided to pop along and say hello.

I saw Matt getting off the train, but he was too far ahead of me to catch, and looked far from lost as he strode confidently off with his travelling companion, his flatmate Niklas, to find the pick of the town's public houses - having walked past one, he was clearly going to the other. Having been to school at the foot of the North Downs, my first thought on seeing a hill is to wonder what is at the top. The weather was a little showery as I walked up the side of the valley and found myself on the edge of the Forest of Pendle.

The weather quickly cleared and I was rewarded with some fine scenery. Despite being from the countryside, I have never perfected the art of walking over a cattle grid - having small feet, I am unsure whether to put the arch on one bar, or put my heel on one and toes on the other.

After my walk I found the White Swan in Fence. This is a Timothy Taylor's pub, selling, amongst others, Golden Best, which I thought was mainly for Yorkshire, with the Dark Mild being for the export trade, or "the discerning drinker in east Lancashire". In any event I eschewed this in favour of the Champions Blonde, a French style in honour of L'Tour de t'Yorkshire. The Tour de France associates cycling with that country, although some of us are old enough to think more of Belgians with an improbable number of consonants on the end of their names. The pub had an impressive set of glass jars behind the bar containing spirits with fruit floating in them, which sounded very pleasant, but not for lunch time.

On leaving, I passed the Inghamite church, one of only two of this denomination surviving from the 1790s. I then took  a short cut along a footpath, forgetting that in hilly areas, the bottom is where the water gathers, and found myself dodging a number of hedge to hedge quagmires.

Nelson's Victoria Park, also known as Little Wembley, is a few hundred yards from their previous home, at which they once attracted14,000 spectators, and which is now partially under the M65. The front doors of a terrace of houses open on to the grass beside the pitch, although with a fence between - taking the habit of northern people not using the front door for everyday access to its logical conclusion, their vehicular access is to the back. I took up position on what we might call the residential side with the sun behind me.

I did not find a team sheet, but the advantage of a club with which I have no connection is that I do not need one, as no-one is expecting captions. I looked out for Matt - someone wearing a flat cap should be fairly distinctive in this part of the world. Er ... I spotted him in the stand, which would have been looking into the sun, so I stayed put and waited for him to walk round the ground.

I stayed with Matt and Niklas behind the goal the hosts were attacking for the second half. About half way through, they disappeared to a corner of the ground, and I looked round, to see they had found a boat. I was a little less than compos mentis, as it took me a few minutes to work out why Nelson were known as the Admirals, so I was not sure why they had a boat (which, it transpired, was less than seaworthy): although the Pendle Water runs the other side of the trees, a pair of wellingtons would be sufficient to retrieve any balls that went in.

Matt poses with Boaty McBoatface

With no-one expecting any photos, I can try out new techniques. With my old camera, I could not position myself directly behind the goal, as the autofocus would almost always catch the net. However, I now have a cross hair for the central focus point, so I took the opportunity of Nelson being awarded a penalty to try it out.

The rest of the pictures from what was very much an end of season game with little at stake can be seen here. Photos of the scenery can be seen here. The account of the day on Lost Boyos can be seen here.

Final score: Nelson 1 Maine Road 1.