Friday 20th May saw the final action of 15–16 at the traditional end-of-term lunchtime longitude of 0°. The talented table-toppers of the Pie and Mash League paused for a photo-call on the concourse of Greenwich Market en route to their 13.11 appointment at the counter of Goddard’s Pie Rooms.

Everything was a-hustle and a-bustle, as we have come to expect from one of the best-situated and most popular shops on the circuit.

The scene behind the counter put me in mind of a well-scrubbed, well-run ship’s galley; brisk service prompts you, the punter, to look lively and no shilly-shallying. A dangerous mix of haste and optimism prompted my order of 3 and 1 plus eels. But after a season away, I’d forgotten that the Goddard’s mince beef vessel is a four-master among dinghies on the high seas of liquor.

The table was tied at 257 points apiece going into this bout, but Charalambous — with son Alexander in tow, below — soon seized command with a bulky payload of 4 plus 2 and a double eels.

Charalambouses Senior and Junior.

This rambunctious tot has yet to acquire the taste of p-n-m, but with a chunky platter of sausage roll, mushy peas and mash, his technique is taking shape, although most of the pastry ended up on the deck.

Lucas unsheathed himself from his outer layer of leather, revealing in full that epic emblem of past battles, The Mister Pound Tie.

These days Doug Benford can count himself as a seasoned campaigner with 22 club meets under his waistband. It certainly entitles him to paint a few pies onto the fuselage of his bicycle.

[Below] The young guns of the league stuck their utensils in with gusto, each with his own signature style:
Moore tends to go for, er, more, accompanied by a can of something fizzy. A mound of mash here complements Terry’s burly physique.
Goldwater’s approach is more cinematic — with an eye for potential stills.
Mosse’s handling might be described as agricultural, but he’s never less than steady. A simple one of everything, allied to a keen social instinct, has seen him consolidate a respectable 5th in the league this year.

These two ladies, Jean Cunliffe and Judith Deschamps, have contributed enthusiasm, refinement and a sense of history to our league. And Judith’s 110 from 11 marks the best-ever ladies’ season since records began.

Sue Madigan’s injury owed more to pork-chop than karate-chop, but the bandage lent itself neatly to her maverick charm.

Trowel tapper sports dapper flapper . . . it's Paul Gale, keeping his kipper clean.

Terry Cecil rejoined us at the trough of ambrosial scoff after considerable time off.

And there’s Al Smith lowering his season average significantly with a solitary bowl of eels. A diary error saw the big guy power-brunching with some trans-Atlantic buddies on American-style p-n-m — pancakes and maple syrup!

Substantial desserts loomed into view along with latecomer and friend-of-the-club Nick Clark. Here, Lucas talks him through the controlled demolition of a fruit pie and ice cream.

With dessert disposed of, it was time to dish out the gongs.

WOOD: SUE MADIGAN, with the lowest scoring average of 8; must try harder

3rd PLACE BIB: RICHARD LUCAS. There was a hint of relief on Goldwater’s boat race as he awarded the snugly fitting accolade to Lucas. The ex-champ’s smooth and assured attainment of third place was reminiscent of a slowly tightening noose. Which is a bit what it feels like to wear that bib.

2nd PLACE SILVER SPOON: NICK EVANS. Yet another big number two for your club statistician.

1st PLACE REALISTIC CLAY PIES II TROPHY: CHRISTOPHER CHARALAMBOUS. His contribution to this club has been ginormous. But an imminent move to the North will see the end of his 5-year reign as champion supreme. Chris, you rock, and we salute you.

Bronze, Silver and Gold 2016

Goddard’s has been a family run business since 1890 and Jeff Goddard [below] is the man who’s keeping it in the family. We appreciate the warm welcome that Jeff and his crew have extended to us over the years.

We sought refuge from the buzz of downtown Greenwich in the idyllic beer garden of the Plume of Feathers.

In a Town Called Greenwich every transit option is possible — except Going Underground.

Even the Police couldn’t keep up with our get-away vehicle.

“Rozzer, you don’t have to put on the blue light. Now lunch is over, you don’t need to wear your belt so tight”.

St@