Daisy comforts Dumbo who thinks he’s being taken to The Scrubbs (behind)
Dumbo The Suzuki Jimny had been a bit under the weather ever since his visit to Sussex in March with an unbalanced new tyre:
The garage couldn’t find anything wrong with him, but he felt a bit sluggish, especially when attempting to drive uphill.
Dumbo’s Adventures In Essex, 2 May 2023
I had arranged to have a couple of practice games with my doubles partner Howard, ahead of the Dedanists’ Trophy this year. One was at Lord’s in April, the second we arranged at Howard’s home court, Prested Hall in Essex.
Did the above stunning sunset outside our window foreshadow trouble soon to come? No.
However, almost as soon as I got going at pace in the direction of Prested, Dumbo’s amber hazard light came on and I sensed the sluggishness above 50 mph. By that time I was committed to the M25 route, on which going above 50-60 mph is rarely an option anyway.
A good game of real tennis doubles with a really friendly bunch of people. Then after coffee and a bun, I set off on a Byrd watching trail.
First stop, Ingatestone Hall, but I had picked the wrong day of the week. A large coach outside with a waiting driver suggested that some pilgrims had managed a private view that day. The place was the home of the Petre family. Sir William Petre even has his own Byrd Pavan & Galliard.
Just a few miles down the road, Stondon Massey, where William Byrd lived. I took some refreshments in the pub and got my bearings – then drove on to the 12th Century Church where Byrd was almost certainly laid to rest.
I decided to limp home on A-roads and the North Circular rather than risk Dumbo on the M25, although by the time I had filled up with petrol the amber light had gone off and Dumbo seemed less sluggish.
Interim Verdict On Dumbo – Nothing To See Here, 3 May 2023
Dumbo seemed fine taking me and Janie to Boston Manor to play modern tennis.
We took him in to see Derek at Smallbills who surmised that the amber warning light was probably a falsey, as it rectified itself. This seemed logical.
Next Day, Absolutely Fine Until…
I headed off to Lord’s the next day for a short lesson and game of real tennis. All seemed fine with Dumbo until I turned onto the A40 at Gypsy Corner, at which point, in the middle lane, Dumbo decided that 5mph was his absolute maximum.
There are times of day when 5mph on the A40 would be just fine. This wasn’t one of those times. The road was not so busy as to keep the traffic at a snail’s pace, but busy enough to make my predicament hair-raising. I had the presence of mind to put my hazards on and quite quickly managed to get into the slow lane. I also worked out that, unless I stopped completely, I should limp to Savoy Circus and turn off at Old Oak Common Lane, from whence I could hopefully limp onto Du Cane Road and take stock there.
Taking stock basically comprised paying for Dumbo to park for the rest of the day and going about my planned business for a few hours by Uber.
Dall-E’s image choices for my description reminds me that the situation could have been much worse. Also reminds me that I should have specified “Black Suzuki Jimny”.
Mr Uber got me to Lord’s and on court just five minutes late and I had a good game after my short lesson. My friend Bill, who is a fellow Ealingista, kindly gave me a lift back to Dumbo, from whence I phoned the AA, grabbed some refreshments from the local cafe and waited.
The AA app repeatedly told me that someone would be with me in 40 minutes…for about an hour.
An Impromptu London Cricket Trust Inspection On Wormwood Scrubbs
There is an adage that, in London, you are never more than 10 feet away from a rat. This adage is almost certainly untrue. But, in similar vein, I started to wonder whether you are never more than 10 minutes walk from a London Cricket Trust (LCT) cricket facility.
My trusty smart phone confirmed my suspicions – indeed I was only 10 minutes walk away from the non-turf pitch we (LCT) installed on Wormwood Scrubbs a couple of years ago.
With a 40 minute wait still showing on my app and a yearning to stretch my legs and see a cricket pitch, I strode away from Dumbo, walked the length of the Scrubbs and inspected the pitch.
Then back to Dumbo and a few minutes later a nice AA chap named Mathew who concluded that Dumbo would need the full recovery treatment. Daisy was on standby to recover me and take me back to the house where we awaited the call from the recovery vehicle man. It was about 10:00 when we got that call.
Dumbo was very scared when he was being hauled onto the recovery vehicle. I think he imagined that he was in trouble and being taken to Wormwood Scrubbs nick. (Dumbo does have some previous, albeit misunderstandings, with the law).
In truth Dumbo was being taken back to Smallbills, who had been forewarned to expect to find him outside their gates in the morning.
Dumbo Redux, Queen’s & Cityland, 10 & 11 May 2023
Coincidentally, word reached me that Dumbo was all better when I was at Queen’s, playing in the tournament for which I had been preparing on those ill-fated trips.
“A completely collapsed cat” apparently, but no animals were hurt in the repairing of Dumbo. A relief that the problem was readily identifiable and entirely fixable.
It was a day of coincidences at Queen’s. It’s a wonderful thing that e-tickets can be supplied to you through the ether wherever in the world you might be. Janie’s and my tickets for the Wednesday of Queen’s came through to me while I was at Queen’s.
I thought I’d pop outside to take a look at my seats, but, like a 1970s hotel in Spain, my seats were still work in progress.
Come the day they’ll be lovely.
The next day, I rescued Dumbo in the morning. The whole street must have wanted to welcome him home, because for the first time in as long as I can remember, the parking space outside my “Cityland” residence was waiting for him.
Sluggish no more – please keep going, Dumbo.
Relieved to learn of Dumbo’s recovery Ian, and that you survived that terrifying sounding 5 mph crawl! We’ve had a series of pick-up trucks for our finca in Spain, and named them too, according to their Spanish number plates. Our first, short-lived Ford Ranger’s plate read BZRK so we called it Berzerk and our next one read BLLX, which we called B….X… Neither as dignified as Dumbo!
Cheers Adam. Your comment made us both smile out loud.