“Saturday in the hard times of the late 20’s gave us, the poor and young, something we could both enjoy and afford. The lower XI’s we often played with a man famous in hockey who had thought nothing of dropping down a side as he got older. Our standards were high and it was possible to have played in Divisional games before commanding a regular place in the 1st XI. Pre-war Hampstead was not a mere dedicated bunch too poor to sin or get tight; we often did both.

In the 30’s Annual Dinners were occasions. One, at a place in Leicester Square (R.E. Jones), comes to mind. It was quite a night. I have a vivid memory of one of the present highly respect V.P’s who, while insisting on making a speech (not on the card), suddenly found himself on his back and under the table. He was kept there for a considerable period by feet and a few able marksmen armed with soda water siphons, while the meal proceeded with due decorum.

After dinner, some of us found ourselves in Jermyn Street, talking to girls who somehow in those days always happened to be there or thereabouts. Our disposition towards them was kindly but not wishing to break up our party, or theirs, we organised some Jermyn Street Olympics, with les girls running races for a 10/- prize. It was a stupendous success and good clean fun for 2 a.m. Unfortunately, owing to the crowd that had gathered, the police (very friendly) brought the sports to an end before the grand finale of a lap of honour round St. James’s Square.

We enjoyed nearly all our games and London Hockey, played in a restricted circle of first class clubs, meant that the majority of our opponents were know n and friends. ‘After matches’ on occasion extended to Sunday. The old Teddington Cricket Club pavilion was one place known to have slept Hampstead players round a stove after the last bus and train had gone.

Nearly all of us had to work on Saturday mornings and it was often difficult to get away in time. A good example was afforded by one right full-back. He was in Holy Orders and, at short notice, got landed with having to conduct a funeral. Thanks to a sympathetic undertaker and co-operative driver of the hearse, our worthy member’s hockey bag rode under the coffin to the cemetery. After the service, and with the blind down, our man changed in the hearse which then drove him to the ground. His arrival, changed and just in time, was a sensation. This episode must constitute some sort of a record. The driver stayed for the game (surely we must have won!) and much beer before departing, as he came, in his hearse.

Of many famous games there is one I remember in particular. Sports reporters of The Times, the morning Post, The Sunday Observer and other papers had come to Richmond to see the victory they all foretold of a star-studded Bromley side. That must have been the fastest game we have ever played and proved to be a 3-1 Hampstead victory, by eleven very fit men. Then even the ranks of Tuscany could scare forebear to cheer. The subsequent articles made good reading.

I look back with the utmost pleasure to my Hampstead playing days and the grand men that were my friends. Perhaps with greatest joy it is a fact that the Club survived and I was still there and able to hand over to Bill Fletcher after the War”.