It didn’t rain – indeed the weather was ideally pleasant. No new variant of Covid suddenly broke out to prohibit gatherings at the cricket matches. Neither sling nor arrow of outrageous fortune befell us to frustrate our simple purpose: Janie and I wanted to host Fran and Simon at Lord’s and show them the pavilion.
The idea of the four of us spending a day together at Lord’s had been under discussion for about five years, frustrated by various unfortunate circumstances along the lines of the above paragraph. Given the iffy weather so far this season, we did indeed feel blessed to wake up to a weather forecast that suggested dry and mild, which indeed it turned out to be.
Fran (she of Pinner pears) and Yorkshire Simon (he of crude courgettes) had both been to Lord’s many times, but not recently and not previously in the pavilion. We had previously spent time with them on several occasions at outgrounds, but not at Lord’s.
Simon, Fran & Me at Radlett in 2019Me, Simon and Simon’s courgette, Radlett 2021
Anyway…
…on their arrival, we showed Fran and Simon the upper sun deck of the pavilion – Janie’s favourite place – which both of them took to immediately, so the four of us basically took root up there.
At lunch we showed them around the pavilion and also showed them the real tennis court, where a couple of my friends were doing battle but didn’t seem all that delighted to be observed; occupational hazard of choosing the 13:00 tennis slot on a match day.
Fran and Simon had brought lunch with them, whereas Janie and I had a crazy craving for the Long Room baps and salad, which we indulged in early in the afternoon session. Janie also indulged in a slice of cake in the member’s lounge.
Sam Robson bowling filth just before teaJanie took this picture during tea, before going to the lounge for cake
It was really nice to see Fran and Simon again after quite some while. We did a fair bit of catching up, general chatting and even cricket-watching.
In short – we four had a lovely day. Middlesex didn’t.
Reminiscing today about Tom, the so-called manager of the place, took me back to my scanty notes I made about his ludicrous bragging. I decided to ask ChatGPT to help me flesh out the story, 17 years on. Make of it what you will.
Tom’s Own Words In 2006
“I was a millionaire at 21…a multi-millionaire at 24…lost it all at 33. I’ve been out with Miss Jamaica, Miss Bromsgrove, the lot. I had an Aston Martin – would cost about £125,000 today. Do fast cars while you’re young, young man, you won’t fancy it once you are your dad’s age. I made a million when a million was real money. When a million was really a million…”
My Initial Brief To ChatGPT
My friends and I stayed at a terrible hotel once, where the manager was a braggard and an old bore named Tom. Here are some of the things he said: [see "Tom's Own Words" above]. Tom's stories were completely implausible. Please generate dialogue between an earnest investigator trying to get the truth out of Tom and the answers that Tom might give to those questions.
ChatGPT’s Initial Answers
Investigator: Good afternoon, Tom. I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to talk to you about some of the stories you’ve shared with my friends and me. They were quite intriguing, to say the least. You mentioned being a millionaire at 21. Could you tell me more about that?
Tom: Ah, yes, my young friend, those were the days! I had a real knack for business, you see. I started my own company at a young age and made some shrewd investments. By the time I turned 21, I had accumulated quite a fortune.
Investigator: That’s remarkable, Tom. Can you share any details about the business you started or the investments you made?
Tom: Well, you see, it was a rather niche market. I established a company that dealt with importing exotic goods from faraway lands. My keen eye for unique products allowed me to tap into a market hungry for the extraordinary. As for my investments, I dabbled in real estate and stocks, making some fortunate choices along the way.
Investigator: Impressive, Tom. And you mentioned becoming a multi-millionaire at 24. What led to that significant increase in your wealth?
Tom: Ah, yes, my friend, that was a turning point in my life. By that time, my business had expanded, and I had ventured into different sectors, including technology and entertainment. I struck gold with some savvy investments and became a multi-millionaire in no time.
Investigator: That sounds incredible, Tom. Can you share any specific ventures or investments that contributed to your success?
Tom: Oh, my memory is a bit hazy on the specifics, you see. But trust me, it was a combination of visionary investments in emerging markets and strategic partnerships that propelled me to new heights. I was always ahead of the curve, spotting trends before they became mainstream.
Investigator: I see. You also mentioned losing it all at 33. That must have been quite a setback. Can you shed some light on what happened?
Tom: Ah, yes, a rather unfortunate turn of events, I must say. The economic landscape changed, and I made some ill-fated decisions. There were some risky ventures and unforeseen circumstances that ultimately led to my financial downfall. But it’s not about the money, my friend. It’s about the experiences and lessons learned along the way.
Investigator: Indeed, experiences and lessons are invaluable. Now, about your claim of dating Miss Jamaica and Miss Bromsgrove, among others. That’s quite impressive. How did you manage to attract such remarkable companions?
Tom: (Chuckles) Ah, well, my friend, in my younger days, I had a certain charm about me. I frequented social events and mingled with high-profile individuals. It was through these interactions that I had the pleasure of spending time with some extraordinary women, including those you mentioned. Life was quite the adventure, I must say.
Investigator: Fascinating, Tom. And what about your Aston Martin? That’s a luxurious car, indeed. How did you come to possess such a prestigious vehicle?
Tom: Ah, the Aston Martin! A symbol of my youthful exuberance. I was fortunate enough to acquire it during a time when I had the means to indulge in such extravagances. It was a testament to my success, a reward for my hard work and ambition.
Investigator: I see. Finally, you mentioned making a million when a million was real money. Could you elaborate on that?
Tom: Ah, those were different times, my friend. Back then, the value of a million pounds held much greater significance. It was a benchmark of success, a milestone that only a few could achieve. Today, with inflation and the changing…
Investigator: Ah, I see. So, Tom, it seems like you’ve had quite a remarkable journey filled with ups and downs. However, I must admit that some of the details you’ve shared raise a few questions. For instance, the timeline of your achievements and the specific events you mentioned seem somewhat implausible. Is there any chance that you might have exaggerated or embellished certain aspects of your stories?
Tom: My dear investigator, I assure you that every word I’ve spoken is rooted in truth. Memories can fade, and the specifics may become blurred over time, but the essence of my experiences remains intact. Sometimes, the grandeur of the stories we tell is what keeps the magic alive.
Investigator: I understand the allure of storytelling, Tom, but it’s crucial for me to ascertain the accuracy of the information. If you could provide any concrete evidence or additional details that support your claims, it would greatly help in establishing the authenticity of your experiences.
Tom: Ah, evidence, you say? Unfortunately, my dear investigator, the passage of time has a way of eroding physical proof. But what I can offer you is the wisdom gained from a life well-lived. The lessons I learned, the people I met, and the experiences that shaped me—those are the intangible treasures that far surpass any material evidence.
Investigator: I appreciate your perspective, Tom, but as an investigator, my duty is to seek tangible facts and verifiable information. Without any concrete evidence or corroborating accounts, it becomes challenging to validate the extraordinary nature of your stories. Is there anything else you can provide that might lend credibility to your claims?
Tom: I understand your position, investigator, and I respect your dedication to seeking the truth. While I may not possess concrete evidence that meets your standards, I hope you can find value in the lessons embedded within my tales. Sometimes, the purpose of storytelling is not merely to convey facts but to inspire, entertain, and ignite the imagination.
Investigator: Your point about the power of storytelling is valid, Tom. Stories indeed have the ability to captivate and inspire. However, it’s important to strike a balance between the allure of tales and the integrity of the information being presented. I’ll take your words into consideration as I continue my investigation.
Tom: I appreciate your open-mindedness, investigator. Life is a tapestry woven with truth, embellishments, and a touch of fantasy. If my stories have sparked curiosity or brought a glimmer of wonder into your world, then perhaps they have served their purpose. Remember, the journey is often as significant as the destination.
Investigator: Thank you for your perspective, Tom. I will keep that in mind as I proceed. If there’s anything else you’d like to share or any additional information that might support your claims, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
Next I Tried A Different Tack To Try To Get More Out Of Tom Via ChatGPT
Rather than an investigator, can we see what happens if my wife, Janie, were to ask Tom the questions. She is not a professional psychotherapist, but people tend to open up to her and tell her the truth when she asks them open questions. She would ask her questions earnestly but not inquisitively like the investigator. She would delve a little deeper into his psyche, but in a non-threatening way.
ChatGPT Responded With This Dialogue Between Janie & Tom
Wife (Janie): Good afternoon, Tom. I hope you’re doing well today. I wanted to have a chat with you because I find your stories quite intriguing. They seem to reflect a life filled with ups and downs, successes and setbacks. I’m curious to understand more about the emotions and experiences behind those stories. Can you share with me how it felt to be a millionaire at such a young age?
Tom: Well, hello there, Janie. It’s kind of you to take an interest in my experiences. Being a millionaire at a young age was a mix of excitement, pride, and a sense of accomplishment. I felt like I had the world at my feet, that I was invincible in a way. There was a certain thrill in achieving financial success early on, but it also came with its own set of challenges and responsibilities.
Janie: It sounds like it was a significant milestone for you, Tom. With success often come lessons. Can you tell me about any valuable lessons or insights you gained during that time?
Tom: Absolutely, Janie. One of the most valuable lessons I learned was the importance of humility and staying grounded. Money can be a powerful force, and it’s easy to get carried away. I realized that wealth alone does not bring lasting happiness or fulfillment. It’s the relationships we cultivate, the experiences we cherish, and the impact we have on others that truly matter.
Janie: That’s a profound realization, Tom. It speaks to the deeper meaning and purpose in life. Now, when you mentioned losing it all at 33, I can only imagine the emotional toll it must have taken. Can you share how that experience affected you on a personal level?
Tom: (Pauses) Losing everything was undoubtedly a devastating blow, Janie. It was a period of immense challenge and introspection. I faced feelings of regret, disappointment, and even self-doubt. But it was also a transformative time, a chance to reassess my priorities and rediscover my inner strength. It taught me resilience and the importance of bouncing back from adversity.
Janie: It takes great strength to rebuild after such a setback, Tom. Did that experience change your perspective on wealth and success?
Tom: Absolutely, Janie. Losing it all forced me to redefine my definition of success. I realized that true wealth goes beyond material possessions. It lies in the richness of our experiences, the depth of our connections, and the positive impact we have on the world around us. It shifted my focus from solely chasing financial gain to finding fulfillment in more meaningful aspects of life.
Janie: It sounds like you underwent a profound transformation, Tom. Relationships play a significant role in our lives. When you mentioned dating remarkable women like Miss Jamaica and Miss Bromsgrove, what do you think attracted them to you?
Tom: (Chuckles) Well, Janie, I believe it was a combination of factors. I’ve always been fascinated by people, their stories, and their dreams. I genuinely enjoyed connecting with others on a deeper level, listening to them, and understanding their perspectives. I think that genuine interest in others and a desire to make them feel valued and heard played a part in attracting remarkable women into my life.
Janie: That’s lovely, Tom. It seems like your genuine curiosity and empathy created meaningful connections. Now, about the Aston Martin you mentioned, what significance did it hold for you beyond its luxurious appeal?
Tom: Ah, the Aston Martin. It was more than just a car, Janie. It represented a symbol of achievement, a tangible reminder of my hard work and success. But it also served as a reminder to savor life’s pleasures and to appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship that can exist in the world. It was a source of joy
Finally, I Asked ChatGPT To Use A Blunter Instrument On Tom And His Boasts
Cool. Can we now imagine that Tom's pyramid of piffle has been exposed as nonsense. Please produce a 500 word confession and statement of truth from Tom.
ChatGPT Then Produced This
Tom: I must admit, it seems my elaborate tales have finally caught up with me. I can no longer hide behind the smoke and mirrors of my exaggerations and fabrications. It’s time to come clean, to strip away the layers of falsehood and present you with the truth.
The truth is, I was never a millionaire at 21 or a multi-millionaire at 24. Those were mere fantasies, figments of my imagination crafted to create an aura of success and grandeur. I indulged in the allure of being someone I wasn’t, weaving tales to captivate and impress those around me.
The Aston Martin I mentioned? It was nothing more than a fleeting dream, a symbol of status that I never possessed. I let my imagination run wild, painting a picture of a glamorous lifestyle that was far removed from reality. The truth is, I’ve never owned such a luxurious car or experienced the thrill of driving it.
As for my supposed encounters with Miss Jamaica, Miss Bromsgrove, and other remarkable women, they were nothing more than fabrications. I embellished my interactions, seeking to enhance my own image and portray myself as someone who attracted extraordinary companions. But the truth is, my romantic endeavors were far more ordinary and unremarkable.
I understand that my stories may have captivated and entertained, but I deeply regret misleading those who trusted my words. I was driven by a need for validation, a desire to be seen as someone remarkable and accomplished. In doing so, I lost sight of the genuine connections and honest interactions that bring true fulfillment.
I apologize for the deception and disappointment caused by my tales. It’s time to face the truth, to embrace humility, and to learn from my mistakes. I hope that, in acknowledging the truth, I can rebuild trust and approach life with a newfound authenticity.
From this moment forward, I pledge to embrace honesty, to celebrate the beauty of genuine experiences, and to find meaning in the simplicity of truth. My journey may not have been as extraordinary as the stories I once wove, but it is an honest one, filled with lessons, growth, and the potential for genuine connections.
Thank you for listening and allowing me to come clean. It is a humbling experience, but one that I believe will lead me towards a more authentic and fulfilling path.
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.
Noddyland sunset with Dumbo just visible in the foreground
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.
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.
Hey – are you looking at my Byrd?
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.
Well played, Dumbo
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.
The Scrubbs was very quiet around 5:30 pm
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.
Janie reassures Dumbo despite Wormwood Scrubbs Nick in the background
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.
I hate to sound smug…actually that’s not true…I delight in the smug thought that it was my idea to book this one, back in November when the Bush Theatre spring season was first announced.
Janie had of course consented to booking it but then largely forgotten all about it, as indeed had I, until the date grew near and we re-engaged with the production.
“Isn’t Lenny Henry a stand-up comedian? I don’t like stand-up comedy,” said Janie.
“He moved on from stand-up comedy a long time ago. Lenny Henry writes – this is a proper play.”
“Do you think he’ll be there on the night?”, asked Janie, who had clearly retained even less about this production than I had.
“I do hope so. It is a one-man show written and performed by Lenny Henry, so it will be more than a little bit disappointing if he doesn’t show up.
Lenny Henry did show up. His grounding in stand-up comedy was never too far away. He opens the play by endearing himself to the audience, not least by giving a few lucky punters a tot of rum. He then tells the story of his character, August Henderson, through a mixture of witty, bitter-sweet and some out-and-out funny anecdotes.
August’s life in Dudley/West Bromwich echoes that of the young Lenny Henry, although August must have been born a few years before Lenny Henry and, unlike Henry himself, the August character was born in Jamaica and brought to England by his mum as an infant. This subtle distinction is fundamentally important as the story unfolds.
Lenny Henry has superb stage presence. Not only does he still “have what it takes” to deliver anecdotes like a top-drawer stand-up comedian, he also dramatizes August’s sad story masterfully through words, expressions and movement. He tells the tale of his love for Clarice and the three children they produce. Also his love of reggae and ska music. His anecdote about skinheads especially resonated with me:
They loved reggae and ska in the beginning, but after a while they stopped loving us. I still don’t know what changed.
I’ve always wondered about that.
The nub of August’s story – or at least its denouement – is the Windrush scandal – the appalling 2012 Government policy creating a “hostile environment” for people who do not have leave to remain in the UK. While this policy was not targeted at people who had been British citizens in former Empire and Commonwealth countries, thousands of people from the Windrush generation – mostly people who came as children from the Caribbean in the 1950s and 1960s, were caught by this ill-considered change in law and policy. People lost their homes and/or their jobs – many were even deported, despite protections that had been enshrined in earlier laws specifically to prevent such injustices. I shouldn’t get on my own political high horse about this, but I’m going to anyway – the whole affair was a shambolic political sh*t-shower which made me (and many others who share my sense of justice) profoundly ashamed of my own Government.
August’s story unfolds with more subtlety than my paragraph above. Yes, really.
The ending of the play is shocking, poignant and thought-provoking. I especially liked the technique – borrowed from verbatim theatre – of getting several real people who were caught up in these injustices to tell their own stories on the screen. It brought home the reality in a way that the comedy drama – delivered by Lenny Henry’s flawed but loveable character August – could not manage alone.
Here is a link to the Bush resources on this play/production. I’d recommend this play/production highly. Unfortunately this run is sold out, but hopefully it will get a transfer as it deserves a bigger audience than five or six weeks-worth of Bush Theatre aficionados.
Our first visit back to The Finborough Theatre since the pandemic. Coincidentally, our previous visit was our last visit to any theatre before the pandemic, and that piece was also at least partly about Israel:
Since that 2020 visit, The Finborough has been awarded a coveted Pub Theatre Of the Years Award 2022, which is quite something…
…especially as The Finborough currently has no pub. But that’s not important to us, as we were always “only there for the theatre”, not “only here for the beer”.
Janie and I were both very taken with The Retreat. It is set in 1993, in the shadow of the Oslo Peace Accords, although the play is set in Canada, pitting a Hebrew School teacher/would-be script writer with a pair of seasoned but warring (with each other) film makers.
If the play errs at all, it is a bit long, running to nearly two-and-a-half hours. Ironic, really, given that the central conceit of the play is about script editing. But that space gives room for the characters to develop and for the darker recesses of their behaviours to become apparent to the audience.
Janie and I thought all four cast members performed very well but were especially taken with Jill Winternitz as the somewhat vulnerable young woman and Jonathan Tafler as her father.
We’re back at The Finborough in a few week’s time to see the next thing and can hardly wait after enjoying this production. We’d almost forgotten how much we like this type of small-scale intimate drama.
Eight of us gathered for one of our periodic NewsRevue alum evenings at the Holborn Spaghetti House.
There were no controversial shortages of certain dishes this time, but there was an especially irritable waiter who seemed to decide that I am an idiot, perhaps because I turned up a little late and didn’t want to partake of the Prosecco and sparkling mineral water already on the table, but wanted to order my own non-sparkling beverages.
Most unusually for me, I prevailed in Colin Stutt’s quiz about the faces/quotes of Irish writers & characters. A lot of informed guesswork in my answers, plus some lucky, uninformed guesswork. But on the whole it seems I can tell Shaw from Wilde, Joyce from Beckett and the like.
I did not fare so well with John’s intriguing game about famous movie stars and the obscure locations from whence they hail.
The next day, John summed up the evening, wonderfully, in his inimitable words:
I am sure you will all be celebrating the 234th anniversary of the Mutiny on the Bounty, which falls today (I know I am) but if I could drag you away from your Tahiti-shaped cupcakes for a moment…
Just wanted to thank you all for turfing yourselves out last night to the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner. I would like to thank Colin for his wonderful Irish-themed quiz. I tried bits of it out on Jenny this morning, because she got herself an Irish passport last year in response to Brexit. One of her grandfathers was Irish, which is enough to make you count as Irish, apparently. Sad to say, she didn’t shine, so her citizenship may be re¬voked. I would like to praise Ian for winning said quiz and Mark for know¬ing the birthplaces of more Hollywood Royalty than anyone need to.
I would like to thank Colin again for the generous touch of the Prosecco and each and every one of you for your warm congratulations on Jenny and I becoming man and wife after all these years. I was very touched.
As I looked around the room, I thought how lucky I was to enjoy the friendship of such erudite, witty and good-hearted men. Such a shame that none of them could be there. You’d like them. And Caroline, I left you off that list cos it spoilt the flow of the joke, not because I’ve forgotten you.
The theme of this rather wonderful BBC Lunchtime Concert at Wigmore Hall was imitations. All of the pieces had themes within them in which the music imitates some sort of natural sound.
Janie and I thought this was an excellent and very interesting concert. We very nearly missed it, as I, in an extremely rare omission, forgot to write this Wigmore Hall date in our diaries when I booked this back in February. It was only because there was a small change to the programme that I was alerted to my omission and fortunately we were both able still to make the date.
The headline picture is sort-of an imitation too – that painting by Jan Voorhout was once thought to be Dieterich Buxtehude, the composer of the first piece we heard, but is now believed simply to be a domestic music scene of that baroque period.
If you just fancy one little listen to some Baroque imitation, then the third movement of this sonata by Johann Paul von Westhoff, which we heard, should thrill your ears.
Continuing the theme of imitation, I suppose I spent the day “imitating” a young man. I have said in recent years that there are now only three places left where people sometimes call me “young man” without irony: Wigmore Hall, Lord’s and Gresham Society. Today I enjoyed all three.
After Wigmore Hall, I went on to lord’s for a cracking game of real tennis doubles.
2016 Picture by Toni Friend – I was so much younger then
Then on to the National Liberal Club for the Gresham Society AGM and dinner. For reasons known only to him (and in a style only Tim could muster), Professor Connell invited me to sit at the top table:
Would you care to join us on the top table tomorrow night?
Everyone else has refused and it will look a bit odd if there is no-one on it.
It would have been hard to refuse such a courteous request.
Tim Connell promised to keep the formal AGM bit to seven minutes but those around me suggested that he strayed into the 10-15 minutes zone, as usual.
Worse yet, despite spending the day in all three places where I am still occasionally addressed as “young man”, no-one had done so that day and no-one did so that evening.
Still, I chatted with lots of interesting people and enjoyed a good dinner.
Sir Thomas Gresham: 1519-1579 – I’m even older than him now
This was a fabulous play/production at the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond.
It’s about revolting young people in Cairo – i.e. the story, over several years, of several engaging, well-crafted characters, initially caught up in the revolution which started in 2011.
No programme for this production, but there is a care pack – click here – this must be the modern way.
The playwright AHLAM is anonymous/pseudonymous, perhaps a proxy for the “always in danger blogger” character Osman, played very well by Tarrick Benham.
The play covers well the politics of those years – from hope through frustration to fear and desperation. In particular the revolutionary blogger character Osman and his gay friend Rafik, played well by Nezar Alderazi, illustrate the big picture.
But it is also a tale of interpersonal relationships. The younger characters, girls at the outset, Lina (played by Eleanor Nawal) and Maya (played by Yasemin Özdemir) getting in and out of trouble with boys and with each-other.
The whole production was very well acted and very well produced. The night we went, Hanna Khogali was indisposed, so assistant director Riwa Saab stood in for her at the last minute. Riwa is clearly a very talented young thing but not a actress – nevertheless she is a performer when not directing and carried the part astonishingly well in the circumstances, as did all the others, in particular Moe Bar-El whose character had to interact with Riwa’s character the most. Theirs was a “star-crossed lovers” story; him from a Coptic family and her from a Muslim family of cops.
It sounds a bit cheesy when described in simple sentences about the plot, but the stories dance between each other and across time to make a wonderfully engaging evening of theatre.
100 minutes without an interval, but at no point did it feel like a drag.
Janie and I have not been to the theatre much these past few months. We’ll be going a fair bit over the next few months. This one certainly started our “new season” of theatre going with a bang…and I don’t mean tear gas canisters going off in Tahrir Square.
Actually I visited Lord’s twice in the short week before Easter and on both occasions played real tennis.
Given the weather and my other activities, I got more tennis than cricket during those visits.
On the Tuesday, before the start of the cricket season, I had a really good game of doubles, partnering Graham Findlay for the first time and taking on some strong opponents. On paper we should have received some handicap but we played level and still prevailed over 90 minutes. The best I can remember me playing for a long time; perhaps the best I have ever played. Sadly, the CCTV camera stopped running a couple of seconds into our slot, so all I can show of the historic event is this warm-up shot from the hazard end.
Meanwhile Charley “The Gent Malloy” and I had planned to spend the first day of the season at Lord’s together, a bit of a tradition and, with Middlesex playing Essex, a desirable fixture for us both too. But Chas had to withdraw from the planned meet, so I arranged to play tennis first thing with a view to seeing a bit of cricket afterwards, all being well.
Another really good game of doubles, with an opportunity to partner Nick Evans for the first time since goodness-knows-when. Also a chance to play with Bill Taylor again, who was back on court playing competitively after quite a long absence. Again, we played level against the odds for my pairing. This time we lost by a smidgeon. I’d rather not talk about the four set points that went begging, nor my duff call on the opponents’ set point. Again I played well, I felt, but not as well as I had played on the Tuesday.
When I emerged from the dressing room, I ran into Ed Griffiths, Harry Whiteley and Arfan Akram from the London Cricket Trust, who were having an impromptu meeting (chat) about our next stage of activities. They asked me to join them.
In the interludes between the cricket conversation, Ed waxed lyrical about the real tennis, as only he can, suggesting it was a geriatric game, while studiously ignoring the rather good quartet from Prested Hall who were playing by then.
Then Ed collared young Nat, our apprentice professional, asking him why he wasn’t 60 years older than he looked and then asking Nat to provide a three word description of my real tennis.
Graceful, technically gifted…
…came Nat’s spontaneous reply, which I must say I thought was a fine contribution to the debate. I’m not sure what substances (or planet) Nat is on if he actually believes that, but it was a great answer for the context.
The weather then started to smile and Ed wanted to go off to take custody of a ludicrously fast and expensive car for reasons that he did explain but they got a little lost in translation. It’s probably something to do with late-onset-mid-life-crisis.
Ed made a rather disparaging remark about my car, Dumbo, perhaps unaware that Dumbo tends to hang out with ludicrously fast and expensive cars these days:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo & a Ferrari: in Waitrose Bayswater Car Park
But I digress.
I got to see some cricket.
I sat for a while in the Writing Room, but then really wanted to get a feel for the outdoor nature of the game, so took up a position in the Warner Stand…
Then, around 3:15, I started to realise how cold I felt and how close the time was getting to the “afternoon showers” predicted by the weather app and increasingly feeling likely. So I went home.
Still, I had played a good game of tennis, had a useful chat about the LCT (between the bants) and seen a couple of hours of cricket. That’s a pretty good day in my book.
Robert Muir tapped me up for this late March Sunday tennis match at Petworth. I realised that it would make an excellent “excuse” for us (me and Janie) to enjoy a short break in Sussex, having done nothing of that kind for so many months.
I hired, through Air B’n’B, what looked like and turned out to be a charming old cottage in Fittleworth for a few days.
Saturday 25 March – Limping From London To Fittleworth, Then Dining In Petworth
Janie and I played our regular game of (modern) tennis on the Saturday morning and set off after a light lunch.
The adventure did not start well.
Dumbo, The Suzuki Jimny, who had recently had a flat tyre & wheel change, let us know as soon as he went over 40 mph that he was not going to be happy at speed, juddering like crazy. Dumbo is well known around London as a pandemic hero…
…but his popularity on and beyond the M25, juddering along at 35-40 mph. was not evident. People were hooting and gesticulating at us.
Daisy got on the mobile phone, trying to locate garages or “tyre services” near to our location on the M25/M3, with limited success, until someone in goodness knows where recommended someone in Guildford, who suggested that we were nearer to Aldershot…
…two keen lads at Aldershot Kwikfit identified that the problem was tyre-balancing and thought that their machine was not working properly because the imbalance appeared “off the scale”. I guessed that the tyre dude in Acton had sold us a dud, so we decided to limp on to Fittleworth and take stock on Monday.
A sliver of Peshwari Nan, me dear?
We commissioned Sue’s cabs (a two-car, husband & wife combination, in which the wife seems very much in charge…we were allocated husband Charles) to take us to and from our Fittleworth cottage to Basmati in the Petworth Market Square – suitably located next door to the Co-op where we could get some basic supplies for our few days.
We had an excellent meal, comprising Peshwari nan & papadoms to start, followed by chicken tikka shobuz (Daisy’s choice), jatt lamb (my choice) tarkha dhaal and lemon rice. A very juicy Malbec helped to wash all of that down and some very friendly and helpful staff served it all.
Anyway, Robert had kindly arranged for me (and a couple of other Dedanists who had ventured far for this fixture) to play two short rubbers rather than one, which added to the fun.
Kim Walker and Me for the DedanistsA sweet win, coming from behind
Between my two short rubbers, a fine lunch of pies and veg, produced in ample quantities by Robert and Carole.
I partnered Chris Marguerie in the second of my rubbers, which was closer than the first but, much like that first rubber, a victory despite being behind for most of the rubber.
Janie was absolutely rapt with attention during that second rubber of mine. Unfortunately, she was paying attention to Nigel Pendrigh and discussing all manner of paramedical matters rather than hanging on my every shot. What a strange way to spend your time at a real tennis match.
Joking apart, the whole event was wonderfully convivial time with old friends and new, as well as good fun tennis, which is just as such friendly matches should be.
We snacked light that evening back at our little cottage, enjoying the peace and privacy and the rather fruity bottle of white depicted above, courtesy of our host.
Monday 27 March – A Day In Petworth
At the tennis match, we discussed Dumbo’s little problem with several of the locals. Robert and most of the others were emphatic..
speak with Alan at Market Square Garage in Petworth tomorrow.
…so we did; first thing. Alan said he’d give it a try.
Alan’s Dumbo diagnosis was that the dud tyre was “off the scale unbalanced” and needed replacing. He also pointed out that the spare, upon which I had been unconsciously pinning my hopes for several years, was also a dud and would not be a safe replacement. I asked him to order and replace two, such that I’d have a matching pair at the front and the older front tyre that was not a dud could become a useable spare.
Alan told us that the tyres would definitely arrive at some point that afternoon, enabling him to complete the job, but it could be any time in the afternoon.
Thus our plans were laid. We would do our day of walking around Petworth House, Gardens and Deer Park. Worse things could happen to us on a beautiful sunny spring day, two minutes walk from the entrance to Petworth House & Park.
Two minutes later…the park entrance
At the park entrance, we happened upon Martin, who is the head gardener for the grounds. He and Janie had quite a long conversation about plants, shrubs and trees, quite a bit of which was in Latin. I understood “daffodils”, “ponds”, “deer”, “landscape”, “Capability Brown” and a few other words.
Probably best I tell the next part of the story in pictures more than words.
Mostly my pictures around the deer park – one or two are Janie’s. It is a shame my tennis shots are not as consistent as my photo shots.
After that long walk around the deer park we were ready for an early lunch, so we parted company with the entrance fees and entered the house and gardens.
We were persuaded to join a short talk about J.M.W. Turner in the card room first.
Janie savoured this unlikely scene of cricketers and fallow deer in front of the pond
Then we took an early lunch. Just as well we went early – we managed to get a table and our choice of grub: tuna jacket-tater for Daisy, za’atar chicken bap for me. But before we had finished our grub, another couple asked to share our table and they discovered that almost all of the food was sold out…at around 12:50. (Blame Brexit/Covid/Putin/rail strikes).
Then we had a look around the servants’ quarters, not least the old kitchens, which were fascinating and rather stunning in their own way. Janie coveted some of the larger pieces of equipment which were almost as big as our entire kitchen.
More copper than the Met Police“Looks real. Are you SURE we can’t eat it?”The SculleryStill RoomJanie showed our age by confessing that she did a holiday job as a kid for a wealthy, elderly couple who had a communications system that looked just like this
Then we looked at a small modern art exhibition.
Janie’s gloves were well colour-co-ordinated with several of the pictures
Refreshed and mentally stimulated, we set off for a second walk – this time around the pleasure gardens part. A slightly shorter, similar loop to our morning walk, but very different look in the pleasure garden.
Daffodils – see, I did understand what they had been talking aboutIs that the village idiot or did Daisy just twig the folly of the Doric Temple?Is that the Petworth rough sleeper or were the exertions now catching up with Ged?Approaching the RotundaA thrush at surprisingly close quarters
Along the way, we encountered the gardeners again. Janie asked one of them about a particular shrub, to which he said…
…oh yes, you’re the couple that was talking to Martin earlier. I’m not entirely sure, but Martin will know…
MARTIN (from behind a larger bush): Enkanthus perulaus…
…so now we all know. Was Martin following us around?
Not sure, but when I stopped to take the following picture…
…I heard the gardeners’ buggy coming, stopped, stood to attention, saluted and got well splashed by the puddle they went through. Janie, from a safe distance, saw the whole episode unfolding and could not stop laughing for a while. Nor could I. They must have thought that I was a right twit of a city boy!
Once Janie stopped laughing, I took her photo with that magnolia:
Soon we were back at the house and in need of a little more refreshment – i.e. a cup of coffee to perk ourselves up – before looking at the bits of the main house we hadn’t seen before lunch:
ChapelThe Leconfield ChaucerMing, Italianate and Japanese thingsExceptional murals on the grand staircaseSt.Mary’s Petworth, as seen from that staircase
We then left Petworth House, wondering where we might go to while away the time until Alan had prepared Dumbo. Just as we were walking through the exit door into the town, my phone went. Dumbo was ready for us.
Dumbo’s new found friends at Alan’s place
Dumbo seemed a little reluctant to leave his new found friends. To be honest, he’s been getting ideas above his service station ever since he encountered the following mob in a car park a couple of week’s ago:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo and a red Ferrari. That’s Waitrose Bayswater for you
But I digress. We’d had a super day.
Tuesday 28 March – Brighton, Hove & Home
The weather turned yukky again on the Tuesday, but that didn’t really effect us. We rose quite early, checked out of our sweet little cottage in Fittleworth and went to see Sidney & Joan in Hove, via a short stop at Pendulum in Brighton, where Janie likes to treat me to some louder, fancier clothing than I would ever treat myself. This was a successful visit – three shirts, three pairs of troos and a pair of boat shoes.
Trigger warning: you might need sunglasses for my shirts if you run across me this summer.
Nothing looks colourful on a gloomy day, but Daisy thought the car in front of us was well colour-co-ordinated with the Brighton lamp posts
Then lunch with Sidney and Joan, for the first time since before the pandemic, which is too long of course. It was lovely to see them again and we chatted about many things, not least family stories from way back when. Word had reached Sidney about his Uncle Sid’s revived fame as a saw player, explain and linked within the following:
Lunch and the afternoon flew by, which left only the journey home and an early night, as Janie and I were both tired but very satisfied at the end of our short break.
