As in ’22, the Pie and Mash season was browned off with a quick blast of heat, under the azure sky of a high summer noon at the prime meridian.

So refreshing to see Benford sporting a normal Hawaiian, and his occasional dining partner Katharine Schopflin in a floral print – such sensible choices of cloth when the mercury is high.

Your scribe appeared considerably greyer of attire, countenance and facial hair, looking to the vittles placed before him for restoration and inspiration. Cold jellies help to cool the brain in a heatwave, though to be fair, the back office at Goddards was surprisingly comfortable thanks to its rear ground floor location on the shady side of the building.

A two-and-one is a hefty combination at high noon [GMT] in high summer.

If it’s heft you’re after, look no further than the Evertons. Former champ Nick put in a cameo – we hadn’t seen brother Gary since a trip to Cockney’s of Croydon in Feb 17.

Their invited guest pie-ticipant was South London lad Ian Stevenson, an aficionado of the Manzes at Peckham and Tower Bridge Road.

Our end-of-term exams were conducted under the watchful eye of the invigilator, Colin Price.

Nice to see the globetrotters out together for this gala event. Big Al’s seen all the good bands, and is here sporting a famous orange band – the one attached to the Silver Spoon Award he picked up in ’22.

Andy Saunders. If you had stepped straight off Sunset Boulevard into a pie and mash shop, you might be wearing the same slightly punch-drunk expression. His collegiate buddy, Mike Goldwater, had a journey from hell thanks to delayed trains and stress-filled multiple changes on London’s overheated and under-ventilated tube system. The adrenal rush lasted well into the meal, and I feared a repeat of the [unreported] crash and burn ordeal of his debut pie and mash final in 2012. The young greenhorn came round after a bottle of Pepto Bismol and a lie down in an Exmouth Market pharmacy.

Ice cream was popular with the dessert courses; two scoops accompanied the cherry pie of Mike Goldwater.

Benford, about to embark on a Greenwich steamer. [In this case bread pudding and molten custard.]

[Far right] A piping hot rhubarb crumble awaits the Invigilator.

Events recorded, statistics collated, contestants ranked, trophies unveiled.

On this last day of the season, the lady in the floral print glided into wooden spoon position with a superlatively mediocre average of 8. Taking 16 points from just two meets, Katharine Schopflin spared the blushes of Karen Ramos, who was our regular underachiever this season.

Thanks to absentees, Goldstone shot from sixth to third place in the league – his neck was made for that bib.

Goldwater secured the silver second spot with a solid season shaped very much to his own designs for a mixed Friday and Saturday itinerary.

A model of stolidity was rewarded with a model of solidity – the Realistic Clay Pies IV Trophy, which wound up once again in the hands of the Club's recorder.

Barring the truncated 20-21 Season, it was lowest scoring first place in the modern era.

The shop's majordomo of mash was quite insistent on a photo opportunity with Jill Cropper. As much a part of the Goddard's setup as the pie trays and potato rumbler, Steve is truly a champion of hospitality.

Kane Goddard it was who appeared at that famous stable door for a gander at our gala grub gathering. So often the place of his brother and Man Friday Jeff, this was of course a Saturday – the first weekend final in Club history.

Post-pie posers on the bevelled junction of King William Walk and Turnpin Lane.

In a reprise of last year's events, the remaining crew crossed the northern edge of Greenwich Park and Zero Degrees Longitude to arrive at that most welcome beer station The Plume of Feathers. You could say all present got mildly 'sun-kissed'.

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