A Short Tribute To Jacquie Briegal, Who Died 27 November 2025

Jacquie enjoying a brace of buff butlers, Janie & Kim’s party, 2016

I was so saddened to learn that Jacquie died on 27 November. She, and the Briegal family of which she was the matriarch, had been part of my family life for as long as I can remember…indeed, longer than I can remember.

Adam Green, Mark Briegal, Hilary Briegal, Michael Green & a very little me, c1963

Jacquie was my second cousin. Her mother, Sadie, was my mother’s first cousin. Thus I was, technically speaking, Jacquie’s generation in my family. Through one of those generation shift things that happens in some families, I am a similar age, indeed a bit younger than, my own generation’s children. Jacquie and Len were good pals with my parents. I am good pals with Mark and Hilary and Adam. Jacquie’s mother Sadie and my Grandpa Lew Marcus…well, that’s another story. Family legend has it that Jacquie’s lovely father, Josh Moliver, would patch up the frequent tiffs between Sadie and Lew, by visiting with a bottle of schnapps as a peace offering.

A gathering of Pizans & Molivers, late 1930s, at the Bledlow Ridge farm. Jacquie third child in line, I believe – from the front Hannah Pizan (latterly Green), Hazel & Jacquie Moliver, Sidney Pizan.

Just in case you think this flashback doesn’t go back far enough, my mother actually attributed the friction between her father Lew and Sadie to the previous generation; Jacquie’s grandmother Annie:

Auntie Annie [Kraika, nee Marcus] used to make big about Lew and Beatrice’s [my parents’] “premature baby” Harry!! Fell out over it at times. Sadie & Lew were always falling out and then making up!

As my Uncle Harry was “prematurely” born just after the first world war (and just a few months after my grandparents got married), I am resuscitating a broyges that dates back more than a century. You can thank me (or quarrel with me) afterwards for that.

Jacquie to Mum: “we’ve put that all behind us now, haven’t we, Renee? Mum: “more or less…”.

There are/were many branches to the Marcus family, from whence this connection comes, but somehow the Kraika/Moliver/Briegal connection (Jacquie’s) and the Pizan/Green connection, plus my own branch of the Marcus family remained solid despite various family upheavals over the last century or so.

Thus, perhaps unusually, these second cousin branches are amongst my closest relatives and people with whom I feel the closest familial ties. Janie takes pains to say that she hasn’t a clue who ANY of her second cousins might be and indeed has no contact even with her first cousins.

Anyway, this tribute is about Jacquie, not family trees, but my point is, my own memories of Jacquie, over many decades, are mostly associated with the sort of events which most of us enjoy with close family and close friends.

My diaries, covering the 1970s and 1980s, have many mentions of visiting the Briegals or the Briegals visiting us. In those days, this might be for second night of Pesach (Passover), sometimes breaking the fast at my parents’ place, sometimes around the Xmas seasonal holidays (I remember mum and dad doing New Years Eve with Jacquie and Len quite often) or random “no reason” get togethers.

My dad was a real “cobblers children” photographic man when it came to documenting family events with pictures – he tended not to do it. It wasn’t really the thing to photograph “regular” family gatherings back then.

On occasion, my mum and dad would go for short break holidays with Jacquie and Len. Jacquie was very tolerant of my mum, who could be awkward at times but basically had a good heart and Jacquie recognised that. Perhaps more importantly to Jacquie (or just as importantly), my Dad and Len enjoyed each other’s company and especially enjoyed having a few glasses of wine together.

Dad: “suits you, Jacquie!”. I’m guessing Spain in the 1990s

By the end of the 1990s, the Christmas tradition shifted from mum & dads, or Jacquie & Len’s place, to Janie’s place, as we always felt a desire to reciprocate the warm hospitality we had enjoyed at other times of the year.

Janie tended to do almost all of the catering role – the centrepiece very often being a roast goose, because Dad and Len were partial to goose. Jacquie could be encouraged to “go with the flow” and make sure that my mum didn’t fret. On the one occasion that Janie’s mum, The (now late) Duchess of Castlebar, also attended, Jacquie did a great job of preventing Len from throttling the Duchess. Jacquie was a great reconciler; by all accounts like her dad in that respect.

My job at Christmas was to devise games and miscellaneous entertainments for those days. I recently found an old box with index cards, post-it notes, dice and bundles of 5p pieces. I recognised the materials for charades and that type of game, but I cannot recall what we were doing with all of those dice and shilling-bits. Must have been part of one of the games, but I only remember us talking crap, not playing craps!

By the late noughties, though, dad and then, soon after, Len, died. The family gatherings for a heimische Christmas didn’t seem appropriate any more, so we started going to restaurants together instead.

Strangely, while rummaging for something completely different earlier today, I stumbled across some misfiled papers – our order at The Devonshire for Xmas 2010:

I can also authoritatively tell you from my markings on the wine list that we ordered the Pelorus Cloudy Bay fizz, Argentinian Chardonnay, Chianti (Len & Dad would have approved), and Californian Orange Muscat for pudding.

Even more latterly, Jacquie kept the family gathering tradition going for so-called fast-breaking until she was just shy of 90 years old. The International Pickled Herring Of The Year Competition (IPHY Awards) attracting global audiences and acclaim.

But really I should leave the last word to Jacquie herself. She really was very patient and kind with my mum, even towards the end for mum, when dementia was setting in and mum’s manner increasingly random.

The following short “vox pop” was filmed, I think by Kim, at the little party we threw for my mum at “Noddyland” (our house) when mum turned 90, in 2012.

Jacquie’s death really is the end of an era for our family. But she will live on in the hearts of all who knew her and loved her.

Real Tennis British Open At Queen’s & Victory In Australia by Richard Whitehead At Lord’s, 22 & 26 November 2025

Richard Whitehead talking, Alan Rees listening.

Two Men’s Singles Semi-Finals & The Women’s Singles Final At Queen’s, 22 November 2025

Janie and I warmed up for this event by having our regular hour of “lawn” at Boston Manor, albeit at 10:00 rather than our regular hour of 11:00. We then hot-footed it (if you can hot-foot by car) to the flat dropping off some old computer equipment headed for charity, then picked up Janie’s flashy new specs, then got to The Queen’s Club about 30 or 40 minutes into the first match.

Simon Talbot-Williams greeted us both warmly from his stewarding position, while simultaneously telling me off “for being late”, before helping organise our seating.

Just as well we warmed up for the event, as the dedans gallery had a real chill breeze feel to it, despite the nicely positioned radiator near our feet.

Must have felt even colder up there in the “makeshift media gallery”.

We caught the end of the match between Nicky Howell and Rob Fahey. Then saw all of the match between John Lumley and Bryn Sayers.

After taking some tea and chatting with the assembled real tennis glitterati, Janie and I saw Claire Fahey’s historic win in the final against Tara Lumley.

Our first sight of women’s tennis played at the highest level

Historic, in that the women’s final hadn’t been at Queen’s for decades. We both thought that the format including both men’s and women’s matches was an excellent idea.

More of this men’s and women’s tennis on the same day, please, Janie and I say.

On searching on-line for the results, Google’s AI Overview, for once, has not hallucinated. The following summarises matters expertly.

Men’s (Open) Singles Semi-finals

Two Men’s Singles semi-final matches were played during the afternoon. 

  • Fixture: N. Howell bt R. Fahey
  • Score: 6/2 6/2 6/5
  • Start Time: 2:00 PM
  • Fixture: J. Lumley bt B. Sayers
  • Score: 6/5 6/3 6/2
  • Start Time: 4:00 PM (approx) 

Women’s Singles Final

Claire Fahey defeated Tara Lumley in the final match, which began at 6:45 PM. 

  • Fixture: C. Fahey bt T. Lumley
  • Score: 6/0 6/0 

What the AI cannot do is express how much we enjoyed our afternoon and early evening at Queen’s, watching high grade tennis. It’s just a shame it was unseasonably cold!

Victory In Australia by Richard Whitehead, MCC Library Book Club, Lord’s, 26 November 2025

Janie and I very much enjoy these library book club supper evenings. This one, at which Richard Whitehead discussed his book about the 1954/55 Ashes tour, might not have attracted our attention, but for Alan Rees (head librarian) taking pains to let me know how much he had enjoyed that book and was thrilled to have secured an evening with Richard.

Save the date…

said Alan a good few weeks before the evening was announced. Hence, once it was announced…we pounced to get tickets.

We were very glad we did. The food and company is always good. On this occasion, as a bonus, we found ourselves next to my real tennis pal of old, Jim Chaudry. Jim has been “off games” for some while now, but I occasionally see him at cricket and have spotted him a few times at the library book club dinners, but until this time, not at my table.

Jim knows how to hold his knife and fork, whereas…

The food was, as always, excellent. Janie went into full tilt food porn photo mode this time.

Both courses depicted on arrival at her place. Thanks, Janie.

As usual, after the talk, the Q&A, and the book signing, Janie and I went home thoroughly pleased and satisfied. That’s some of my holiday reading for our next trip sorted out for sure.

A Personal Tribute To Bobbie Scully, 1962-2025

It is with great sadness I find myself writing a tribute to Bobbie, who died a few weeks ago after a seemingly minor fall.

I first met Bobbie soon after she arrived at Keele University in the autumn of 1981, a year after my arrival there. My diary doesn’t mention her until we got it together a couple of years later…I’ll come to that.

I first noticed her just a few weeks after she arrived, as she was to be seen driving a massive Jaguar car around the campus; an unusual sight at Keele, to say the least.

The Scully Jag looked a bit like a pristine version of this: GPS 56 from New Zealand, CC BY 2.0

I discovered later that her dad, Don, who was mostly working overseas in those days, had encouraged Bobbie to take the car to Keele while he was away, as he thought that vehicle was more at risk standing idle in Wallasey than it would be in use at Keele. Bobbie was very self-conscious about driving a Jag around the campus – if nothing else it was an incongruous mismatch of big car and small person.

Bobbie soon downscaled to a Citroen Dyane – a far more “Bobbie” car than her dad’s Jag.

Citroen Dyane, Alexander Migl, CC BY-SA 4.0

In a way, this Jag story is a helpful analogy with Bobbie’s essence. Bobbie’s intellect and influence was huge, in contrast with her slight size, light-wearing of her intellect and general low-key demeanour.

Although we were both studying law…in Bobbie’s case with politics, in mine with economics…I don’t believe we ever crossed paths in tutorial groups. But Bobbie did “hang out” with people in my outer and latterly inner circles.

For example, I remember Bobbie going out with Jonathan (Jon) Rees in those earlier days, perhaps her first year, perhaps her second. Jon had been one of my first term pals, part of our Princess Margaret street theatre “rebel troupe”:

Bobbie gets her first mention in my diary in October 1983, as part of a rather crazy first few days of term:

Ashley Fletcher’s name comes up around that time and I do remember that Bobbie was part of Ashley’s circle, as was I. I also remember Ashley saying to me, soon after Bobbie and I got together:

If I didn’t know you two better, I’d think that the two of you have got together…

…exactly the same words he’d used to fish for information on me and Liza getting together the year before!

Anyway, Ogblog is awash with pieces about stuff that Bobbie and I got up to – especially in that 83/84 year, but also a great deal subsequently. Prior to writing this piece, 85 pieces are tagged “Bobbie Scully” and there are many diary entries from the late 1980s that I haven’t yet excavated/Ogblooged.

Here is a smattering of links to favourites:

Bobbie helped me in the background with my scurrilous gossip column, around the time I visited her home in Wallasey for the first time:

My Machiavellian plan had been for Bobbie to run for sabbatical Education & Welfare Officer role once we knew that good people had been elected to the other sabbatical roles (Bobbie would have been brilliant at it). But Bobbie out-Machiavelli-ed me – who’d have thought that possible?:

We did a lot of studying together after those elections…which mostly comprised Bobbie studying for most of the night, and me staying awake long enough to do enough. We also had the odd break together. I was terrible at revision. This piece gives some insight, if anyone ever gets around to reading it:

Once the exams were done, we did a lot of eating, drinking and going to see music and theatre – all interests we threw ourselves into, both together and separately, in the decades that followed.

I recall that the local butcher took kindly to students who wanted to eat high-quality meat and gave him regular business, so it had become my habit during most of that academic year to get sirloin steaks and the like for Bobbie and I to eat at the weekends. I had been self-catering in Barnes for most of my time at Keele, whereas Bobbie remained in Lindsay Hall throughout her three years.

We also ate in the best restaurants around the Potteries (which at that time, on the whole, were not that special). The diary and resulting Ogblog pieces mention some.

In terms of “the arts” – here’s a highlight from just after our finals finished: we came down to London to see Billy Joel at Wembley Arena.

Bobbie was very keen on Billy Joel. I have been struggling to get “Only The Good Die Young” out of my head since I learnt that Bobbie died.

…and the next piece describes one of our favourite “lowlights”. The booking cock-up was entirely my fault, but Bobbie and I had a good few laughs and happy talk about the incident subsequently.

Bobbie and I somewhat went our separate ways during my sabbatical year, but we did spend a few weekends together, one of which included an absolute theatrical highlight for both of us – for me especially – The Pope’s Wedding at The Royal Court.

At the time of writing this piece (a week after Bobbie’s funeral), there are very few Ogblog postings between 1985 and late 1988, as I have yet to read/process most of those elements of my diaries. I’ll be playing catch up on those years over the next few years.

This is a bit tough on Bobbie’s many friends from work, who entered her scene from the mid 1980s and some remain on her scene.

I have, however, already written up the period when I was between qualifying as a chartered accountant and starting my management consultancy career, from late 1988 onwards. This piece from mid November 1988 – covering Bobbie’s birthday, provides some insight into that gang:

A few days later, Bobbie helped to confirm my sense that the Clanricarde Gardens flat that I had been eyeing up was indeed the one for me. Bobbie’s viewing nearly didn’t happen, of course, because Bobbie was always late and we ended up pushing the “second viewing slot” that I had arranged to its very limits.

The story of my wait for Bobbie in The Champions pub, contained in the article linked here and below, is worth the price of admission to Ogblog alone. (Ogblog is free).

Between the mid 1980s and the latter part of 1992, there are a great many theatre, concert, opera, restaurant and dinner party visits with Bobbie written up, and quite a lot still to write up. Even after Bobbie and I split up at the end of the 1980s, and after I had my dreadful back-knack in mid 1990, we still saw quite a lot of each other.

We spent a memorable week in Ireland together in the spring of 1992

… and we continued to do those social and arts activities together. But Bobbie was less keen on booking such events up well in advance than I was. So we had a deal, which basically meant that I would book stuff in advance knowing that Bobbie might excuse herself if the date became inconvenient. Her side of the deal was to give me as much notice as she could, which she reliably did.

Indeed, it was one of the very best of “Bobbie’s bounce back tickets” that presented me with the opportunity to reciprocate Janie’s hospitality with The Street Of Crocodiles:

Bobbie and Janie always got on well. Bobbie took pains to let me (and separately Janie) know that she thought we were a good fit for each other. Janie was especially struck by the way that Bobbie wore her immense intellect lightly.

I have very few photos of Bobbie – we didn’t much do photos in those days – but this one from our mutual Keele friend, Annalisa’s, wedding, in 1998, is a rather good one:

Very sadly, Stuart, Annalisa’s husband, standing next to Bobbie, also died suddenly and unexpectedly in 2025.

I didn’t see Bobbie all that often over the intervening years – neither Bobbie nor I were brilliant at keeping in touch, but Bobbie & Dave Holland certainly attended more than one of Janie’s famous house parties, before those parties became rarities. Here’s one example:

Other than that, I would occasionally run into Bobbie at The Great British Beer Festival in the Earls Court years of the noughties, when my firm, Z/Yen, tended to have “informal works outings” there most years.

Bobbie and I would also tend to arrange to meet at the occasional Keele alum sessions in London – events that neither of us would much fancy on our own but as part of an excuse to meet up and have a good meal after…that was different:

Latterly, along with Iain Sutherland, Bobbie became an enthusiast for the Gresham Society, within which I have played an active part for a great many years.

Although it wasn’t the last time I saw Bobbie, the 2023 event at the Royal Tennis Court, Hampton Court Palace, which I curated, was one of the last times and was a very special day:

So many decades, so many memories.

Liz Scully’s sisterly tribute at the funeral was very moving and poignant. It didn’t so much focus on the arts and culture side of Bobbie’s being, which I hope my piece does. Instead, it focussed on Bobbie’s work, her involvement with CAMRA, her devotion to Everton FC and her love of her home town, Wallasey, all of which were, of course, major parts of her life.

Liz did also remind everyone that Bobbie was almost always late for appointments (unless it was a football match, a concert or a show). Ogblog is littered with oblique (and not so oblique) references to Bobbie’s tardiness.

Thus it seemed fitting at the funeral, after we all traipsed out into the freezing cold of the Wirral at Frankby Cemetery, that orders came from above – I think it was the local authority health and safety brigade, not Bobbie in excelsis – that there was a delay. We were all kept waiting on the path for some 20 minutes before the graveside ceremony could begin. It seemed fitting.

So there you have it: the late Bobbie Scully, rest in peace.

Emmet Cohen Trio, Wigmore Hall, 16 November 2025

To the Wigmore Hall for an evening of Jazz. We hadn’t yet seen jazz pianist/arranger/composer Emmet Cohen, although I think he has been curating the jazz at Wigmore Hall for a while now. Emmet’s previous dates/gigs hadn’t worked for us.

This was a good chance to see him with a couple of his regular buddies as a trio: Joey Ranieri on bass and Joe Farnsworth on percussion.

Calm before the storm

We heard:

  • Frederick Loewe – I’ve grown accustomed to her face
  • Bud Powell – Budo
  • Ernesto Lecuona – La Comparsa
  • Ralph Blane & Hugh Martin – The Trolley Song
  • Tadd Dameron – If You Could See Me Now
  • Ray Brown – Lined With a Groove
  • Emmet Cohen – Universal Truth Suite: I. Compassion, II. Eternal Glimpse, III. Universal truth
  • Scott Joplin – Original Rags (arranged by Emmet Cohen)
  • Harold Mabern – Rakin’ and Scrapin’ (arranged by Emmet Cohen)

You don’t have to take my word for it – here’s a link to the Wigmore Hall archive resource on this concert.

They were very good.

Here’s a YouTube of the three of them playing together in Switzerland a couple of years ago – but not playing one of the pieces we heard:

They look a bit less joyous in Switzerland – possibly they were on “stronger meds” when at The Wig. The audience for sure were well “medicated” – the bar was heaving with people before the concert…as were the loos. Very few familiar faces – not many of us Wigmore Hall Mafia dig early music and jazz.

Here is a link to the entire gig that those three did in Amsterdam a few days before they arrived at The Wig – there will be many similarities and overlaps:

I’m guessing that the Dutch do better meds than Swiss.

Of course, this is incredibly accomplished stuff and Janie and I enjoyed ourselves very much.

Some of the music choices are not quite to our taste – tunes from musicals of the 40s and 50s tend to sound corny to our ears and, to some extent, even more so when syncopated into cool jazz. The Trolley Song, in particular, could, for me, only conjure up a vision of Judy Garland dressed in Edwardian finery.

The only other issue we have with this style of jazz concert is the “mutual admiration society” style chat, about each other and about jazz masters past and present with whom they have worked. I realise that there is a type of jazz maven who likes to hear all that stuff, but we prefer to let the music speak for itself. There’s also something “not quite our style” about self-aggrandisement.

But this nit-picking does not detract from a thoroughly enjoyable evening of top quality jazz musicianship, for which we are grateful. We think the acoustics of the Wigmore Hall work brilliantly for small jazz combos such as this trio, although Emmet suggested at one point that he finds the acoustics of the hall “a bit weird”.

Anyway, as Janie and I have said repeatedly to the powers that be at The Wigmore Hall over the years with regard to jazz – more of this please.

Dinner At Cavita Restaurant With John White, 12 November 2025

When John booked Cavita for this get together, conveniently choosing a location that suited me coming on from tennis at Lord’s, I hadn’t realised that I would be more or less returning to the scene of my hip op nine month’s earlier, at the Fortius Clinic, two doors down in Wigmore Street.

Hence the headline photo.

I resolved, before looking at the Cavita menu, that I would abstain from ordering any dishes such as knuckle of veal or pork. I guess I am too steeped in penny dreadful London melodrama of the Sweeney Todd variety.

Anyway, I needn’t have worried – Cavita’s menu was suitably elegant, magnificent and certainly oriented away from dishes where you wrestle with your food and/or end up wondering which species you might be eating.

Here is a link to Cavita’s on-line menus.

While here is a link to the dinner menu in force when we ate there.

Cavita is one of those “sharing plates” restaurants, which I must say rather appeal to me these days, as you can regulate the amount of food you eat as long as you are well advised by your waiting staff.

The young woman who looked after us at Cavita provided good advice on portion sizes, sharing and the like. John & I tried:

  • TLAYUDA VEGETARIANA – an Oaxacan mushroom concoction on a corn bread base – to share;
  • QUESABIRRIA – a beef shin stuffed tortilla which was seriously gooey – one each;
  • G R I N G A – a flour tortilla with Iberico pork – well yummy – one each;
  • PESCADO ZARANDEADO – line caught sea bass prepared (half and half) with two marinations – to share;
  • FRIJOLITOS (refried beans) – side order to share – because you cannot judge a Mexican restaurant without judging the refried beans. These were excellent.

We drank some pleasant wine by the glass – I went for a Chilean Chardonnay – Clos des Fous, whereas John opted for an Izadi Rioja Blanco.

The whole meal was excellent, but the fish was undoubtedly the eye-catching highlight. At one point I sensed that we were being watched form the next table and spotted that the gentleman from the couple next to us seemed to be staring at our table as he was rising to leave. Perhaps he spotted that I had noticed him, as he came up to us before he left and said,

That fish looks amazing – is it as delicious as it looks?

We told him that it was.

Unlike the manner in which the fish caught, John and I caught up on things socially speaking. It’s been a while since our last dinner catch up together and was most pleasurable. But all too soon realised that John has a long hike back to Saffron Walden and that we both had an early start workwise the next day, despite the fact that we are both, theoretically, working less now.

We were enjoying ourselves sop much that we didn’t get around to taking food porn photos. Still. there are enough of those available on the Cavita website and on-line reviews.

John & I will try not to leave it so long between dinner meet ups next time. If I can keep away from places like the Fortius Clinic and stick to spending time in more enjoyable places, such as Cavita Restaurant, John & I should be able to attain that goal.

Porn Play by Sophia Chetin-Leuner, Royal Court Theatre Upstairs, 8 November 2025

This excellent production, which Janie and I saw on the second preview evening, made us feel uncomfortable in many ways. The central subject matter – addiction to violent on-line pornography – is a deliberately discomforting topic. Playwright Sophia Chetin-Leuner takes this topic on in an unflinching yet surprisingly nuanced manner in this play.

It is really a play about addiction taking hold of a bright individual and destroying their life. It just so happens that violent porn is the addiction in this case.

The acting was universally excellent. Ambika Mod, as the victim of the addiction, is, understandably, getting most of the plaudits. She is on stage almost throughout the play and what a challenging role it must be. Will Close, Lizzy Connolly and Asif Khan provide excellent support, playing multiple parts each and doing so convincingly.

Josie Rourke is a superb director. This is the first time we have seen her work since she returned from her career break. She’s certainly still got what it takes.

Royal Court Theatre information about the production can be found here.

Formal reviews of the production can be found here. They have been almost universally positive, resulting in the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs run selling out.

I said the production made us feel uncomfortable in many ways. Apart from our discomfort with the subject matter…not least the topicality of questions around abusive and violent sex…we were also visually and physically discomforted by the set/seating.

The carpeted set looked like seedy living space from the 1970s or 1980s – deliberately I’m sure. The audience is asked to put shoe covers on when entering, as if to symbolise a need for personal protection…but also perhaps for practical reasons to protect the set.

But most discomforting of all was the seating on those “carpeted steps” doubling as seats. No back support and 100 minutes of tense drama. We walked out of the theatre like John Wayne having just dismounted from his horse…or…[insert your own unsubtle and unsuitable metaphor here]. Still, it was worth it.

Excellent play, excellent production.

Two Ridiculously Good Books Which Arrived On The Same Day, 6 November 2025

The 50 Most Ridiculous Ashes Moments, Dan Liebke & Alex Bowden, Affirm Press, 2025, EAN/UPC: 9781923135697, & In the Eye of the Typhoon: The Inside Story of the MCC Tour of Australia and New Zealand 1954/55, Frank Tyson, Parrs Wood Press, 2004, ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1903158579

There is something faintly ridiculous about cricket books generally.  I say that as a cricket lover, a book lover and, indeed, a cricket book lover.  Most cricket books go into excruciating detail about something or another. Cricket loving, book loving folk don’t mind wallowing in such details, but that doesn’t detract from the intrinsic absurdity of cricket books. 

One In The Eye

To be perfectly Frank with you…

For example, “In the Eye Of The Typhoon” by Frank ‘Typhoon’ Tyson.  It is a first-hand, blow-by-blow account & photo-diary of the 1954/55 Ashes series.  We get Tyson’s perspective on the tour; his activities and thoughts on and off the field. The book is neatly crafted and is a thoroughly enjoyable wallow. 

One entertaining Tyson subplot is his tour romance, which he writes about in an unwittingly amusing, melodramatic style.

Thursday October 7th 1954…I have become very attached to a good-looking Sydney girl called Margaret, whom I met on our second day out of Tilbury. Our parting on the last evening on board was very emotional…I am looking forward, perhaps more eagerly than normal, to seeing her again in Sydney…

Thursday March 3rd 1955…Margaret was my first great love; indeed she was my first real girlfriend. In matters of the heart I was naïve until I met her…We agreed to keep in touch – but could we guarantee that some influence would not intervene? God knew!…Shall I see her again?  I must.

I can’t help thinking of Trevor Howard, Celia Johnson & Sergei Rachmaninoff

Yet Tyson’s emotional parting with Margaret at Sydney airport did not prevent The Typhoon from making the lives of New Zealand cricketers hell for the rest of March 1955.

My favourite page in the whole book is the glossary of tour party nicknames on P259. The Boil, Kipper, Scrubs, The Whippet, Godders, and Woozer, to name but a few. Worth the price of admission alone, that page.

50 Most Ridiculous

“The 50 Most Ridiculous Ashes Moments” is an antidote to cricket book wallowing, much as Alex Bowden’s irreverent King Cricket website is an antidote to typical cricket journalism.  Each of the 50 stories stands alone, giving the book a dipping rather than wallowing quality. I shall ration myself on these stories over the coming weeks, to help sustain my spirits during the inevitable emotional upheaval that the 2025/26 Ashes will bring.

“The 50 Most Ridiculous Ashes Moments” was born, out of wedlock, between Alex Bowden’s whimsey and that of Dan Liebke, who also has a website (who doesn’t?).   The two of them first came together producing The Ridiculous Ashes Podcast, which I have consistently enjoyed, since it first came out in early 2021, despite my tendency, universally, to find podcasts soporific.

The Ridiculous Ashes book pleases me more than the podcast for reasons beyond my preference for books over podcasts as a medium. The conceit of the podcast is to assess the most ridiculous moments in each Ashes test match from a particular Ashes series, eventually to award Ridiculous Ashes to the most ridiculous side.  It is a fun idea but at times the structure of the “parlour game” detracts from the interesting, amusing and acerbic stories that Dan and Alex are discussing.

The book format liberates the prickly pair [did you see what I did there?] from game show style banter, combining their natural writing abilities to produce 50 well-crafted stories about bizarre happenings in the Ashes during the last 50 years.  The book formula also enables Liebke & Bowden to broaden their coverage beyond that covered by the podcast, hence covering 50 years and covering both men’s and women’s Ashes. 

I especially enjoyed the way they described the demise of the dozy England wicketkeeper-batsman who inadvertently strayed out of his ground to be run out in bizarre circumstances (Chapter 49). And no, that story is not the Jonny Bairstow crease-gate story, although that Jonny Bairstow story inevitably gets an outing in the book: Chapter 8.  

I also like the fact that some of the chapters are not really moments, such as Chapter 10, which is a tour d’horizon of Ellyse Perry’s ridiculous Ashes career.  That chapter, like several others, has an “Activity Corner” vignette which made me smile out loud. 

Ridiculous Coincidence Corner

By complete coincidence, I took possession of both books at almost the exact same moment. Tom Carew Hunt very kindly handed me his father’s copy of “In the Eye Of The Typhoon” as I arrived at The Queen’s Club on 6 November for the Tennis & Rackets Association dinner we were both attending. 18:30 that was.  When I got home, I picked up a message from Daisy, sent at that exact same time, to let me know that Alex Bowden’s ridiculous book had arrived.  

Both books are enjoyable, albeit in such different ways. What a happy coincidence.

Oh, and 70 years ago to that very day, my parents got married, in the Empire Rooms, Tottenham Court Road – latterly a strip club named Spearmint Rhino. Now THAT coincidence really is platty joobs ridiculous.

Fatherland by Nancy Farino, Hampstead Theatre Downstairs, 1 November 2025

Janie and I saw a preview of this play/production. I am writing it up a few days later, ahead of seeing any reviews.

We had been looking forward to this play/production, as usually we do for the excellent small-scale stuff the Hampstead puts on downstairs. And we weren’t disappointed – a well-crafted script and highly professional production, performed by a trio of convincing actors.

We nearly didn’t go. We were exhausted by early evening, having returned to the house that morning to discover that we had been burgled. We’d only just said goodbye to the police and were still anticipating a visit from the forensics people the next day.

We steeled ourselves to the notion that a good piece of theatre would take our minds off our own domestic travails and the notion that “cancelling a treat” is not a good way to try and make yourselves feel better.

By the end of the evening, we were glad we pressed ahead.

We sat next to a nice lady whose face I recognised…it turned out from our previous visit to the Hampstead Downstairs. In chatting we realised that we had all attended the same evening of “The Billionaire Inside Your Head” a few week’s earlier.

We worked out that we’d all been there the same day when discussing the scary “voice in the head” character. The nice audience lady was relieved to learn that I was still alive after “verbally dicing with death” with that character.

Returning to Fatherland, you can read all about the production on the Hampstead website here.

To some extent we didn’t get quite what we expected. We thought the comedy element of the play would prevail, based on the description, but actually it is a bittersweet story, full of sadness expressed and supressed, together with an utterly reckless character, the father, who leaves chaos in his wake without recognising that he is a major…indeed at times the sole…cause of that disarray.

Nancy Farino, who both wrote the play and acted as the daughter, Joy, is a new name to us but certainly a name we’ll look out for in the future in both the writing and acting contexts. She was ably supported on stage by Shona Babayemi, as the understated lawyer, and Jason Thorpe as the hapless and hopeless dad.

This production might be remembered the most in theatrical circles for one highly ambitious, coup de theatre action scene, towards the end of the play, which would sound implausible in a tiny studio theatre if I were to try and describe it. But the team somehow pulls it off and the scene works.

However, I think I’ll remember the production more for Joy’s monologues and the depiction of her nightmares/sleep deprivation imaginings in her inner transcendental winter of depression.

It rather helped me and Janie in the recovery of our composure. We are fortunate not to suffer from depression. We’d just had a bad experience which we’ll deal with and move on from.

When the Fatherland reviews do come out, you’ll be able to find them through this link/search term. Whatever the pundits say, Janie and I would recommend this one for sure.