The heart of darkness. Voyage to the Urmston roundabout

The heart of darkness. Voyage to the Urmston roundabout.

Our journey is one  I tell of with a warning that it is not for the faint-hearted. Our courageous little chess team set out aware of the dangers we faced. 
The omens were not good. Perhaps I was over influenced my bedside reading of Moby Dick, that masterpiece of a voyage of discovery. But this was reality. We were bound for the dangers of circumnavigating the death trap known as the Urmston roundabout.
Our mission was to face the mighty Urmston chess team for cup glory.

We had prepared ourselves as best we could for the match. When East Cheshire were drawn against Urmston, we feared the worst. And did the worst strike.

First, there was the postponement never fully explained to the East Cheshire Warriors. Then, there were messages from our Captain Tom, asking for volunteers. He himself was unavailable, already diminishing our chances of success. Other strong players had succumbed to recent surgery, family commitments, and in one case, a long-planned visit to see the pyramids of ancient Egypt in all their glory.
As the day of the match approached, Captain Tom’s messages became more urgent.
The evening before, Big Steve, captain of our second team, made a direct appeal to his brave troops to make the ultimate sacrifice and play their second punishing match in two days.
I will answer the call, spoke up Website Edwin. Even that did not help, as he was already down to play.
And so it was, that a depleted team set out in the team luxury coach driven by Lord Jim himself. It was a dark and windy night as I stood on the outskirts of Woodford Garden Village waiting for Jim‘s arrival with the rest of the team.
 I contemplated the last time we took on the Urmston roundabout challenge, when we nearly met our deaths somewhere in its dark heart. The memories were still terrifying. 
The coach eventually arrived from nearby Poynton. I expected it to be full, and to my surprise I found only Badger Bank inside with the driver.
We set off, only interrupted by the particularly irritating voice of the Sat Nav. Big Steve was making his own way by an undisclosed route which avoided the dreaded roundabout. We estimated we would be at worst only one player light. 
One the outward leg of the journey we only skirted the rim of the roundabout, leaving unspoken the terrifying return journey. ‘Turn half left’ the Sat Nav voice instructed us ...

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