I've been a member of two teams one Cotswold one border. Border was more fun because there's more sticks and more violence. The teams, in truth, weren't among the best - at least not while I was member. (We did scare the cr@p out of a townful of Germans on a twinning visit once, though that's a different story.)

But on the odd occasions when we did it right, it felt sublime. A bit like what playing for a top-class football team must feel like. You knew exactly where to go, exactly where your mates were going to go and how you were going to interact with them, feeling the music and moving to it. Like being part of a well-oiled machine - and we were well-oiled pretty much most of the time. And we were usually appreciated.

Keeping alive a tradition, I'm afraid, came a pretty poor second.