Mike Axford is a new recruit to the world of bowls, and the Gilwern club member would like to share his thoughts on life on the green of dreams with any Chronicle readers wishing to pick up the bowl and roll with it…..Over to you Mike.

At first sight bowls appears to be a gentle pastime for pensioners, but beneath that tranquil image of panama hats and white trousers there burns a seething cauldron of ambition, cut throat competition and intrigue. There are personalities, passion and plotting in the clubhouse, and rough justice on those ultra smooth greens.

The classic inter-club game is played between four ‘rinks’ of four per side, and whoever is ahead after 18 ends is the winner. It could be 21 ends, or 15, or any other agreed number when those thunder clouds come rolling in. The results and statistics you see in this paper tell only a fraction of the story. You could be three up with one to play, but lose by four. (It is always that way round – it is always your opponents who were lucky on that last end.)

The team closest to the jack in the previous end roll the jack for the next end. You each get two woods, and of course you try to get as near as possible with your go. Only, your opponents chatter or jingle their keys while you are trying to concentrate. So you do the same. Sarcasm is good when they are closest. Sarcasm is good when you are closest, too, but you can be more subtle. Your best friend and your worst enemy is your skip. They go last, and they can save the day with a well placed delivery, or destroy everything you have created with a careless lunge that scatters your brilliant efforts. You must be good (and thick skinned) to be a skip, because whether you want to play or not, that last roll of the end has to be played if you are going to lead your team to victory.

The clubs that win the competitions tend to have more youngsters in their sides. By youngsters, I mean barely pensionable, although some are not even grandparents yet. The clubs with the best social life are not always the ones who win competitions, much as they would like to. We follow the Olympic principle that taking part is what counts, and we still let Old George have a go even though his woods barely get halfway. Just don’t put him in my team for the big match.

Back to the intrigue – yes, some individuals want to win at any cost, and they sometimes think they are better than their results would suggest. Even if an opposing wood looks obviously closer to the jack than theirs, they insist on a ‘measure’ and tut and scrutinise this procedure as if they were being measured for their laying out suit. The vast majority of us have played better in the past, and will play better again once this sciatica has gone. Meanwhile, it’s lovely to be out here in the fresh air with friends and a bit of exercise doing us good.

Happy bowling!