RISKING A GOAL-MOUTH GAFF FOR COMMUNITY GROUP

A Couple of weeks ago, I found myself doing something that the textbooks warn politicians against doing. I was on a muddy field, kicking a ball into a goal.The opportunities for disaster under such circumstances are, of course, huge. One slip, and you are down in the mud, with the photographers all over you. What should be a gentle clip for the local papers becomes a nice tit-bit for every diarist in the nationals. And if you are really unlucky, the cartoonists and even that dangerous Mr Bremner get to work.

I reflected as I kicked the ball (harmlessly, thank goodness) on the number of times when Prime Ministers and party leaders have got themselves very unfairly into trouble at such moments. Mr Kinnock's blameless but catastrophic sojourn on Brighton beach (or was it Blackpool or Bournemouth?) sprang immediately to mind.

And I recalled the time when I was addressing a group of Sikhs. Headgear is de rigeur when giving such addresses, and I was offered the choice of a turban or a handkerchief with knots in it. The TV cameras were whirring, and there was no time to waste.

Well, what do you do under such circumstances? Is it to be the turban or the hankie? Either is bound to be immortalised in a catastrophic and much reproduced length of film. Or should you head for the hills and for ever offend your smiling and well-meaning hosts?

But, as I say, on this occasion the ball proceeded smoothly from foot to goal. And I am glad to have done it, because it was all in aid of a wonderful little community group, known as the Loders Young Players.

Regular readers of this column will by now have noticed my enthusiasm for the vast range of little groups and social enterprises that do so much good in West Dorset. But none can be more worthy than this little band of young people.

Loders is only a little place. It has a playing field in what must be one of the prettiest locations anywhere in England, by a stream in the lea of verdant hills. But otherwise, the village is not particularly blessed with facilities for the young.

Undaunted, parents have established a sporting club - football, tennis, archery, swimming - with smart shirts of their own and a regular cycle of fixtures and events. They borrow facilities from people within the village and from local schools. And they have bred at least one champion so far.

All of this, of course, is purely voluntary - and it has taken place without anyone telling anybody to do anything. No expensive Government schemes. No plans from peripatetic play group leaders. No systematic monitoring or inspections of target-fulifilment. Just local enthusiasm, local good will and local good sense.

When one sees this sort of thing in operation, one realises just how real that much misused term, "community" can really mean - and how heart-warming it is when it does have real meaning.

It's enough, in fact, to justify that dangerous moment in the goal-mouth.