Janie and I had another big night out the next day; a double-birthday celebration with John and Mandy at Kitty Fisher’s.
Janie likes restaurants where you can see the kitchensNibbly starters
John and Mandy had enjoyed a day out in London ahead of our dinner, so were able to tell us about that and about the kids.
We don’t have to tell them any of our news, obviously, because it is all there to be seen on Ogblog. Yet still we did tell them our news too.
Meaty main courses and crispy potatoes that aren’t chips, apparently
The food was excellent, the service lively and unpretentious. We really liked this place.
On learning that it was a double birthday, the restaurant managed a mercifully low key way of helping us to celebrate:
John and Mandy very kindly bought me a small gift while enjoying their day out earlier in the day – we don’t normally do presents – requesting photographs of the celebratory footwear.
We’d all really enjoyed our evening, as evidenced (if evidence were needed) by the exchange of messages the next day.
Meanwhile, Janie and I took great pleasure in taking and posing (respectively) for those photos early the next morning:
“Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me…”“Sock Long Marianne…”
It was jolly decent of Simon to arrange this gig to take place just across the road from Clanricarde Gardens, I thought. Janie and I both made sure we’d be free that evening to support.
Notting Hill Arts Club has had a bit of a makeover since we last attended a gig there, which must be 10-15 years ago.
The main purpose of the gig was to launch Simon’s second album, Baby Boomer, available on Spotify – click here – or on YouTube – click the picture link below.
Simon has used a fascinating technique to overcome the problem of the “troublesome second album following a successful first album”…
…he and his (self)-publicist have deemed the first album to have been a flop. Fiendish. Cunning. Daft. The following “interview” explains:
Anyway, despite all that John Shuttleworth meets Spinal Tap buffoonery, the album Baby Boomer really is very good and I think a big leap forward from the first album, Circle Line, which I also liked, btw.
At the start of the gig, Simon performed alone. In fact, the introduction and first number have been recorded for posterity – you can view those below:
Janie rapt with attentionOne of Simon’s sisters, Ruth, shooting the video
After a couple of numbers performed solo, or should I say, “accompanied by laptop”, Simon was joined by a real human being, Nick, on drums.
Timothy, Simon’s husband, rapt with attention.
It all got a bit more complicated when Simon attempted the opening track from the album, Please Hold, with laptop, keyboards, drummer and vocals…
…but after calling back a couple of times, Simon managed to perform that rather intricate piece with aplomb. One of my favourites from the album, that one – it reminds me a little of The Teardrop Explodes at the top of their form – praise indeed coming from me.
Here’s another track from the live performance:
Finally, here is the official video for one of my favourite tracks from the album, Optimistic…
…although, as Simon said when he introduced this number at the gig, he’s a bit less optimistic now than he was when he wrote that track.
Another story.
Actually, in his quest to remain uber-topical, Simon did perform one or two brand new songs. They are, presumably, to form part of the third album and the resulting next launch gig. Janie and I hope so – we are already looking forward to that. We very much enjoyed our evening for the Baby Boomer launch.
When Janie gets a mad on to see something, she tends to want to see it there and then. So although the movie Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love would probably be available to see somewhere long after the bank holiday weekend…
…and although it was carnival weekend and the only slot that might suit us was Sunday evening at the Curzon Victoria…
…off we went. Actually the journey wasn’t too bad.
Here’s the movie trailer:
It was a very interesting movie. Janie has long been fascinated by Leonard Cohen, his muse Marianne Ihlen and the interesting lifestyle they (and many others) had on the Greek island of Hydra in the 1960s.
The movie actually spans many decades, right up until the time, in 2016, when both Marianne and Leonard, coincidentally, succumbed to Leukaemia within a few months of each other.
The next day, we were invited next door to Joy’s for drinks and nibbles, where we met a nice Italian family who have just moved in to the neighbourhood. Coincidentally, the Italian gentleman was a huge fan of Leonard Cohen, although Cohen’s work is little known in Italy.
Janie and I look a little “Marianne & Leonard” in the following picture, taken that next afternoon at Joy’s…
…if you are prepared to use your imagination rather a lot.
..we had a free day in Brighton Wednesday. We both wanted to see the Royal Pavilion & adjoining stuff, plus do some shopping in the Lanes.
We set off from our charming Toll Cottage, opposite the Regency Tavern (depicted above).
The edgy, mean streets of Brighton, not too far from our digsYon pavilion entranceWithin the grounds
The nice Royal Pavilion staff persuaded us to buy a history pass which, for just £5 more than the Pavilion alone, would allow us to see the museum and Preston Manor. Deal.
No photos allowed inside the lavish, main Pavilion rooms (highlights: The Great Kitchen, The Saloon and The Music Room – the latter newly refurbished and especially stunning), but we assumed the rule did not apply to the cafe within, where we took a snack lunch:
Not wearing a tie in the Pavilion, Ged? Photograph inside the pavilion, Ged?
After the Royal Pavilion, a stroll through the gardens to the Museum, where photos are allowed.
There was also a superb exhibition of wildlife photography, most of which was exceptional and stunning:
Janie examines some specimensJanie emulates the Asian Sheepshead Wrasse; some sort of non-cis fish
After the museum, we venture into The Lanes, where I stock up on shirts at Pendulum and treated Janie to a leather jacket in a new boutique around there.
Then one of the rarest sights of all time; me buying baby clothes for Pip in a baby clothes emporium, Happyology, in North Laine. Even the lovely French shopkeeper looks stunned:
I tried to explain to Janie that there was no budget for dinner if we bought all that stuff but she didn’t listen and/or didn’t believe me, so after dropping off our purchases and having a brief R&R break, we ventured back to The Lanes to English’s Of Brighton.
Yum yum
On leaving town on the Thursday morning, we stopped off at Preston Manor to complete the set.
Seriously haunted, apparently.Is that some sort of raven apparition before the window?Ged examines the ultra-rare 16th century leather wallpaper.Not as posh a bed as one might imagineGhostly apparitions in the mirrorVaguely resembles the bathrooms in the Lord’s changing roomsThey don’t make Aspirator Vacuum Cleaners like they used to
After Preston Manor, back to London, where I had an appointment with the real tennis court at Lord’s and then with the Z/Yen team (plus Jez and some of his mates) for the Middlesex T20 match against Hampshire.
The County Ground Hove is a lovely setting for cricket, so Janie and I couldn’t resist the timing of Middlesex’s away match there this season, despite it overlapping with Day 5 of the Lord’s test and a need to be back in London later that week.
So, I arranged three nights in Brighton with a view to seeing most of Day Two and the remainder of the county match, plus an opportunity to visit cousins Sidney & Joan on the Tuesday, plus the likelihood of a bit of spare time in Brighton for once.
That likelihood of spare time was exacerbated while Janie and I sat at Lord’s watching the test match on the Sunday, by Middlesex’s rude ejection from the batting crease at Hove, en masse, for 75 in a mere 130 balls.
Daisy’s role as a visiting totem for Middlesex victories and/or close finishes is becoming a distant memory.
Still, we arrived at The County Ground Hove on Monday around 12:15/12:30, following the traditional difficult packing exercise (Daisy) and roadwork-enhanced drive (on this occasion, me).
John Barclay seemed genuinely chuffed when I told him how much I enjoyed reading that book.
John Barclay (furthest left, facing) and others at lunch
We also met Marilyn Smith, Middlesex’s new Board member.
Marilyn and Me
It turns out that Marilyn lives in Brentford and used to bring her son, Ramon, when he was very young, to the very Boston Manor tennis courts where Daisy and I play each week. She knows Linda Massey (of Friends of Boston Manor fame) very well.
Indeed, when we told Linda a few days later that we had spent some time with Marilyn in Hove, Linda pointed out to us, on the wall of the Boston Manor pavilion cafe, a picture that a very young Ramon had drawn for her, many years ago, as a thank you:
Monday was a glorious day for cricket at Hove, albeit not a glorious day’s play for Middlesex, who were coming very much second by stumps on that day.
Members seating areaPublic seating area
We had been well fed and well watered on the Monday, but still, after checking in and settling in to our AirBnB cottage, the old Toll Cottage on the junction of Regency Square and Russell Square, we thought we’d try the Regency Tavern across the way from our digs. I fancied a drink as I had stayed dry all day and, after all, how big a portion could the pie, mash, peas and gravy possibly be at that price? Massive, basically.
We wouldn’t get steak and kidney, if this match was playing in Sydney
We should have shared one between the two of us. Except it was yummy so we both made serious headway into our portions.
Tuesday morning, we walked (or should I say waddled) to The County Ground. Another glorious weather day.
Daisy, questioning all the “balls on the head” incidents that had occurred at Lord’s a few days earlier, asked Mike Selvey if he approved of such intimidatory bowling.
Selv and Me, both trying to do the “there’s no such thing as a dumb question” bit when tackling Daisy’s enquiry about short-pitched bowling.
Daisy had more success with her penetrating questions about corruption in cricket (and sport generally) from the previous day, as John Abbott brought her some interesting reading in partial answer to her questions on that subject:
We had a super sit-down lunch of casseroled chicken on the Tuesday; a different vibe from the less formal (but also excellent) buffet on the Monday. The hospitality at Hove is superb, both in terms of the catering and the friendly people.
We had a very interesting chat about television rights and national administration of football (about which I know almost nothing) and cricket (about which Ray claimed to know little). Ray is clearly a Sussex CCC fan as well as a Seagulls grandee. Based on his football experience, Ray had some fascinating opinions on how the new Hundred tournament might work…or not work.
Janie and I had arranged to visit cousin Sidney and Joan for tea that day, so we left The County Ground once Middlesex were bowled out a second time, which conveniently coincided with the umpires calling tea.
The result of the match wasn’t much in doubt; nor was there much doubt that the match would end that evening while we were at Sidney & Joan’s house, which is conveniently located half way between The County Ground and our AirBnB cottage.
Nevertheless, as we left, a friendly steward, James, asked if we were returning tomorrow. I explained that I didn’t think there’d be any cricket left in the match by then, but that we would return if there was. James then asked if we were coming to the T20 match on Thursday. I explained that we were Middlesex guests and that Middlesex were playing a T20 match at home on Thursday. “Come here anyway”, said James, “it’s nice to have you two here”. Now THAT’S welcoming stewarding!
It took us little more than 10 minutes stroll through Hove to get to Sidney and Joan’s house. There we enjoyed some tea and wonderful cake produced by a local baker who, it seems, produces really delicious home-made delicacies to order for local folk such as Sidney and Joan.
Sidney and Joan also cracked a bottle of wine to help the conversation flow. At one point Sidney noticed me look at one of the notifications that popped up on my screen, documenting Middlesex’s inevitable defeat.
Keeping in touch with the office?, asked Sidney.
No, just keeping in touch with the cricket score at Hove, I replied. Sorry, I can’t help myself.
Should’ve guessed, said Sidney with a smile.
It’s always a pleasure to see Sidney and Joan. After a couple of hours, we said our goodbyes, then Janie and I strolled back to our little toll cottage.
We only had one problem with hiring the Toll Cottage; we couldn’t work out how to take tolls from the passers-by, although we can see which window we should use and where the toll gate should be erected. But should we collect a farthing or a ha’penny from each passer-by?
Flummoxed by even the most basic questions with regard to our sinecure, we decided on an early night instead. We had plans for a busy day exploring Brighton the next day, now we knew there was to be no cricket.
Mike Hodd (see headline picture) is one of the founders of the show, was a mainstay at our writers meetings in the 1990s and is a fairly regular attendee at Ivan Shakespeare dinners.
For some reason, Mike roped me into liaising with Emma and Shannon at the Canal Cafe to help pull together the 40th anniversary event.
I take very little credit for the superb evening that ensued, but I did contribute some archival material and I did stitch up some NewsRevue alums by gathering names and serial numbers through the e-mail connections.
I also suggested that the event include a smoker, in line with a tradition we had back in the 1990s of having after show parties at which we performed party pieces. Mike particularly liked that idea so it simply had to happen.
But the organisation of the event was really down to Emma, Shannon and the team who did a cracking job.
First up was a pre show drinks reception, at which some of us (encouraged to dress up), looked like this:
Barry Grossman, Colin Stutt and Me.
Then we watched the current show. An excellent troupe comprising Dorothea Jones, Brendan Mageean, Gabrielle De Saumarez and Rhys Tees under Tim MacArthur’s directorship.
Before the smoker, Shannon and the team played us a wonderful 40th anniversary video compilation of pictures and video clips from across the decades. Here is that very vid:
I was proud to have supplied some of the clippings contained therein and moved to see the video and ponder on just what 40 years of a show really means.
Then the smoker. I was really delighted that current/recent cast and crew joined in the idea and chipped in with their own party pieces, which were very entertaining.
From our own “Class of ’92, there were several contributions, captured pictorially by Graham Robertson, with thanks to him for the following pics.
Mike Hodd made two excellent contributions to the smoker;
a very amusing stand up set in which he somehow managed to extract humour from Parkinson’s disease. I shall never again be able to dissociate in my mind the film Fatal Attraction from the affliction fecal impaction;
a slow build routine in which he was an auctioneer trying to fob off some utter tat as masterpieces. Great fun.
Gerry Goddin
Gerry Goddin performed an audience participation routine in which we joined in a song about “mutton dressed as lamb” to the tune of Knees Up Mother Brown. Gerry dealt with my heckling so masterfully that some people thought the heckles had been planted; they had not.
Barry Grossman
Barry performed a stand up comedy routine with masterful poise. I thought we were all supposed to be writers who cannot perform.
I wanted to celebrate one of my classic songs from 1992; the second of mine to be performed in the show but a perennial:
Chris Stanton was the performer who made my debut contributions to NewsRevue such a success in 1992. He too was at this party and performed a couple of classics brilliantly well; A Loan Again and also John Random’s classic 0898 song. No photo of the Chris’s performance as yet – unless Graham finds one of those amongst his collection.
Jonny Hurst also celebrated John Random’s ouevre with a rendition of the wonderful “Tell Laura A Liver”.
This was in part done to honour John Random’s recent selfless act to donate a kidney out of pure altruism to an anonymous recipient. To complete the honouring of that extraordinary good deed, Jonny and I jointly segued the liver song into a visceral medley including a specific piece we put together to honour John’s donation:
WHO DO YOU THINK GOT YOUR KIDNEY, MR RANDOM?
(Lyric to the Tune of “Who Do You think You Are Kidding, Mr Hitler?”)
THE MAIN REFRAIN
Who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Since your organ donation? Was it a girl for to stop her renal pain? Was it a boy who can take the piss again? So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
FIRST MIDDLE EIGHT
Mr Burns – he came to town The age of twenty-one He did assume a nom de plume And took the name Random.
FIRST REPRISE
So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
SECOND MIDDLE EIGHT
Mr Burns did not return With kidney number one But kept his sense of humour… (pause) …And is ready with his pun.
SECOND REPRISE
So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random? Now that you’ve gone down to one?
It was a great party, it was a terrific show and it was a superb smoker. A truly memorable event to celebrate 40 years of a wonderful show.
As John Random said in his preamble to the smoker, NewsRevue has initiated so many careers and transformed so many lives over those decades. And for those of us who have formed enduring friendships, it is hard to express our gratitude to Mike Hodd and those who have kept the NewsRevue torch burning week in week out for forty years and counting.
I wanted to go up to North London Cricket Club to take a look at one of Middlesex CCC’s participation programmes. I wanted a bit more context around my work with London Cricket Trust, in part to inform my decision making and in part to inform any further media stuff I might be doing about it, possibly some as early as next week.
Picture borrowed from the North London Cricket Club website – click the picture to see the site.
Katie Berry thought the Wilf Slack Cup at North London Cricket Club would be a good example and I thought that 15 August, a date that I had put aside for the August Z/Yen Board meeting, an event that tends not to happen due to holidays and indeed was not going to happen, was a very good date for me to make such a visit.
Weather wise it turned out to be an excellent choice, sandwiched between two very wet Lord’s test match days. Work-wise it wasn’t quite so ideal, as a few things came up that needed my attention and I needed to deal with those ahead of going to Lord’s for a soaking the next day.
Still, I got to North London around 12:40 and was able to stay for a little under two hours, looked after by Pete Jones who is a key fellow in Middlesex’s participation team. He was able to give me a lot of useful context to the work we are doing and planning to do through the London Cricket Trust. We were also, usefully, joined by Mohammed from the ECB’s participation and growth team who also had some useful and interesting context to give me about such participation programmes in other parts of the country, as well as London.
Considering that the tournament was for 14-17 year olds of mixed ability and experience – ranging from some of the better colt players from strong clubs to young enthusiasts who were perhaps getting their first experience of playing hard ball cricket on a full sized cricket pitch, I thought the standard was pretty high.
I was a bit regretful that I couldn’t stick around and watch the tournament pan out for the afternoon – it was a glorious day for hanging around cricket – but I did need to get home and get some work done. Indeed, I got so deep into one or two tasks, I ended up rushing in the end to get out the door in time for the Streatham BBYO reunion gathering at Imperial China.
There was a coincidental connection between these two noteworthy, North London and then South London, activities of the day. The 14-17 year old age band of the Wilf Slack Cup coincides almost exactly with my age during the Streatham BBYO years and both of those activities were linked to the two “Mission Implausible” challenges that I had assumed at the last reunion gathering in May.
The first of those challenges was to provide cricket facilities for Mark Phillips’s school, Deptford Green. I must admit at this juncture that I rather set this challenge up when I found out that Mark was the Head Teacher at that school, as I was pretty sure that we were imminently due to put a London Cricket Trust Non-Turf Pitch into Deptford Park. What I hadn’t known, in May, was that we would also be able to get one of the greatest cricketers of all time, AB DeVillers, to open the facility for us in July.
The second challenge was to track down Barry Freedman after all these years. This I failed to achieve through the BBYO Facebook network but succeeded in doing through the Kim and Micky connection. It’s not what you know…as they say.
Woddi, Terri and Barry (sounds like a group of England cricketers and their nicknames), from way back then (1979).
I thought we might be a little short of people for the 8-person table I had booked, but I needn’t have worried. Sandra and Mark had both said yes but were demonstrably both abroad right up until the last minute. Still they both – almost AB DeVilliers-like, hot-footed it from their vacation to our event.
I did a shout-out on the BBYO Facebook group. Terri got in touch and hoped to come along and try to replicate the above picture, but sadly in the end couldn’t make it. Simon Ordever wanted to pick up an age-old rivalry between supporters of Crystal Palace (Eagles) and supporters of Bright FC (Seagulls), but sadly he now lives on the West Coast of the USA. That is a bit of a schlep for one meal.
Fortunately, Paul Dewinter was able to pick up the mantle for the Seagulls community, attending (as he has done before) as a “Friend of Streatham”. Paul possibly didn’t realise that he would be up against the combined forces of Barry, Linda and Liza in the Eagles department. I think Paul held out for a 0-0 draw despite being two men down.
Clockwise from me: Paul, Andrea, Sandra, Linda, Barry, Liza, Mark. Many thanks to the waiter whose photographic skills were surprisingly good considering his polite reluctance to accept the task.
It had been great to speak with Barry again when I called him some weeks ago and likewise it was great to see him again along with the group. Hopefully Barry will be able to join us again at the (now traditional) May gatherings. I find it very enjoyable spending time with everyone in the group. The years just seem to fall away when our group gets together, as I have said in reports of several previous gatherings, which have been happening since 2014.
It was a lovely ending to a busy but largely enjoyable day.
‘Tis a day to remember my dad, who would have reached his 100th birthday today, had he lived a further 12 years and a few days.
I have very few pictures of dad when he was little, but I love this one:
Dad, Grandma Anne & Uncle Michael
As a baby and small boy, he grew up in the slums of Fitzrovia. People think of the East End of London as being the overcrowded part where the immigrant communities lived, but there was a West End equivalent which was (to some extent still is) the centre for the rag trade in London.
I’ll write a bit more about that elsewhere, but suffice it to say here that the Harris family migrated to South West London in the early 1930s, where they established themselves on Clapham Common North Side and became pillars of the South West London Jewish Community known as Bolingbroke.
Dad’s Army
As a young man dad served in the Second World war in the Ordnance Corps, mostly working on photography, cinematography and poster design. I’d like to write up some of his stories from that era at some point, but not for this piece.
Dad and Mum at Northside, early to mid 1950s
He went back to art school after the war (Central) but met my mum in the early 1950s and realised that he’d need a proper job if he was going to settle down with mum.
He and his older brother Alec went into a joint venture around photography, which landed dad with Photo Mart on St John’s Hill in Battersea:
With Uncle Alec’s financial acumen and dad’s understanding of photography and cinematography, this turned out to be a reasonably good idea.
Below is mum’s favourite photo of the two of them, so woe betide me if I omit the one below, I think from 1958, the same holiday as Dad’s cinematic masterpiece, shot in Standard 8mm, also below.
Then I Came Along
My earliest Ogblog pieces about dad revolve around the wonderful recordings he made of him reading stories to me. As a small child I used to listen to these over and over. I have many, but so far have only uploaded a couple of samples:
I haven’t yet organised many of the family holiday films and photos onto Ogblog, but they are there if you can be bothered to delve through my Flickr account…
People do look at this stuff. A researcher spotted Dad slapping on the sun tan oil, a clip I filmed in La Manga 1976, which resulted in me earning quite a few bob while dad was immortalised as a meme, in this advert for Visa.
No researcher has yet picked up this shot of dad being differently silly in Brighton the following year, 1977
Dad was one of the most placid fellows you are ever likely to meet. His friends often described him as laid back. Mum, a different personality, reflected that if he laid back any further, dad would probably fall over.
Dad retired in the spring of 1986 and at first found retirement hard, until he returned to the world of art and largely lost himself in there. He produced some excellent work, much of which is stored in the Noddyland attic and some of which adorns our walls.
Dad’s 80th do at the house in Woodfield Avenue
So auspicious was dad’s 80th birthday, 11 August 1999, that we were able to organise a total eclipse of the sun as well as a birthday party at Woodfield Avenue for him. Now THAT’S impressive, no?
One of the last good pics I have of dad, Golden Wedding, November 2005
I could write lots more about dad- I shall write lots more on Ogblog about him, but shall do so in the context of the stuff I shall be writing up at the time. Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to go to too much trouble writing this up, simply because it would have been his 100th birthday today. He was that sort of dad.
Of late, I have been immersing myself in writing up the journal and some impression pieces about my visit to Mauritius, which was 40 years ago exactly. Devotees of Ogblog (i.e.subscribers) might well be aware of this; others not so.
Ahead of his latest visit, John Random e-mailed to say several things, including this about one of those journal pieces:
A Jew Hunt in Port Louis reminds me of something not very interesting I must tell you about next Thursday.
I had felt quite frustrated about the above piece since I realised that my mother had not only thrown away my article about the resulting great story I discovered once I hunted down the mystery man in Port Louis, but that she had also thrown away my journal notes for 10 and 11 August 1979, as part of the same inadvertently vandalistic act, in the name of “clearing out rubbish”.
Putting that to one side, John and I had a pleasant lunch and did some more fiddling around with his archive of writings. Less progress this session than the previous session, but the previous session had yielded plenty of unexpectedly retrievable data from his old collection. Actually even this day’s session seems to have yielded more than I thought it would.
Then I raised the matter of John’s “Jew Hunt anecdote”.
Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just that, 20 or so years ago, Jenny and I went to a Mauritian community event in South-East London. There was a bookstall at that event, where I looked at a book called The Mauritian Shekel. It looked really interesting but in the end I didn’t buy it. Your headline, “A Jew Hunt In Port Louis” reminded me of that book.
I nearly left it at that, but my curiosity had been sparked, so I asked John if he remembered what the book was about.
It was a fascinating true story from the time of the Second World War, about a large ship full of Jewish refugees from Central Europe, who had been turned away in Palestine and who were eventually given refuge on Mauritius…
“Hold on!”, I yelled. “THAT’s the story the mystery Jewish man told me in Port Louis. THAT’s the very story I’m desperately trying to recall. The Mauritian Shekel, did you say?”…
…it might not have been cheap, but it was available as a rare second hand book on Amazon:
So the book is on its way and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to reconstruct my missing article/story from it.
At about 17:00, John went off in the direction of the Proms while I went off in the direction of Lord’s. I bagsyed some seats for me and Jez Horne in the Warner Stand, then went for a quick meeting with Katie Berry for a briefing on participation cricket in Middlesex.
Jez messaged me to say he thought he was a little delayed but should only miss an over or so. In the end, he arrived just in time for the start of the match.
It was good to catch up with Jez again. I hope we can catch up again when Janie and I are in Hove and he also intends to join the Z/Yen party at the Hampshire game in a couple of week’s time.
This Middlesex v Surrey match always has some real frisson to it, though, being a local derby. More often than not we Middlesex fans end up disappointed at this fixture, but of late Middlesex have been doing better and tonight demonstrated that improvement.
AB deVilliers and Eoin Morgan were scintillating with the bat; Steve Finn magnificent with the ball.
The first Ashes Test, it was. The match started on a Thursday this year (it was a Wednesday start last year), so I put my name down for just the first two days of the test.
On the Wednesday, I went up early so that I might have a two-hour music lesson with Ian Pittaway. I normally have my lessons with him by Skype; just occasionally having a face-to-face lesson.
On Skype, Ian looks like this:
…but this time, in real life, he looked more like this…
…so much so that I thought I’d gone to the wrong door at first.
Anyway, it was a good lesson and I was also able to cement some of the tips and techniques we discussed as I had more time than I find at home, while up at Edgbaston, to practice .
On to the Eaton Hotel, where a late lunchtime snack was to prove a problematic ask, so I wandered off to the local TGIF for a starter, a coffee and some reading.
This year we have been joined by Peter and Matthew – family friends of Nigel and Viv from Australia. Really good company, well-humoured guys, they seemed to slip seamlessly into the somewhat quirky group that is The Heavy Rollers. Only Harish absented himself from the Wednesday evening feast – he was coming up to Edgbaston on the morning of the match.
I arranged to meet the lads at their hotel, the Plough and Harrow, at 9:30 with a view to walking with Peter and Matthew to the ground.
Day One: 1 August 2019
I enjoyed a delicious and efficiently-served breakfast of kippers at The Eaton, then wandered down to the Plough and Harrow to find an irritable table of Rollers and Guest-Rollers awaiting their breakfast. They had been waiting for nigh-on an hour when I arrived.
Slowly and not altogether surely, one-by-one, their breakfasts arrived. Mercifully, Peter and Matthew were among the first to be served,so we were able to skedaddle around five-to ten, arriving at the ground and getting through security just in time to witness the toss.
The others, arriving by car, were also in reasonable time for the cricket though not the toss. We spent a great deal of time wondering how difficult it can possibly be for a hotel kitchen to churn out breakfasts at some sort of reasonable pace.
Jimmy Anderson was not able to do anything at reasonable pace that morning either – after four tidy overs he went off, never to be seen bowling again – at least, never in that match.
The other England bowlers set about their enhanced roles well; at one point having the Aussies 8 down for not much more than 120. Then Smith and Siddle went about staging a match-turning recovery. I blame Charles, who said he likes Siddle because he plays for Essex and that he wanted to see Siddle score a few. Turncoat. (Charley, I mean, not Siddle).
The picnic was a Dot “Mrs Malloy” special, with enough sandwiches to feed a small army and a great deal of non-perishable food which came in very handy on the Friday (and no doubt beyond).
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub Me, Matthew, Peter, Chas, Nick & Harish
For reasons known only to himself, Nigel stood aside when a kindly bloke behind us offered to take our photo at stumps that day.
Matthew, Peter and I walked back; I parted company with them at St George’s Church to save a bit of time, as we had agreed to all meet in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of jars.
Over those jars, it transpired that Peter and his good lady had taken their honeymoon in Vanuatu, so we spent some time swapping Vanuatu trivia stories over drinks, which was better than another hot topic – bemoaning British and Australian politics.
Day Two: Friday 2 August 2019
I enjoyed an English breakfast, efficiently and effectively served, checked out of the The Eaton and walked to the ground alone today. I discovered all of the others in their seats around 10:40. No doubt they had gone down to breakfast in the Plough and Harrow at 6:30 in the morning or some such.
Our seats, directly opposite in The Raglan Stand, offer an excellent view of the shenanigans from an ideal distance. Several strolls all around the ground, including the back of the Hollies, reinforced my view that my ideal spectator experience is the very opposite of the Eric Hollies.
I did offer Peter and Matthew an opportunity to choose their own Ogblog pseudonyms, but, like most people, they were foolish enough to leave that matter up to me. Hence “Papa Pete Blong Vila” and “Boe Blong Pete” were born. More on them and all of us should appear on King Cricket, eventually.
Dumbo (my car) rode like the wind, but had to do so the long way round due to a closure on the M40. Thank goodness for the sat nav, which turned me round and sent me through Birmingham and the M6 South at the very start of my journey, otherwise the extra 20-25 minutes that the detour entailed might have been an extra hour plus in traffic jams.
Well played, Dumbo
I thought I’d left England in a good position at stumps on Day two, which I had. But in my absence it all unravelled in the next two-three days. Only Australians, neutrals or mentally strong England fans should click here for the scorecard and cricinfo resources on this match.
