Travel, Theatre, Music, Cricket, Tennis, Writing, Life
In February 2021 I took a stroll and listened to The Ridiculous Ashes podcast while so doing. I wrote up the “event” in the style of a King Cricket match report.
In June 2021 King Cricket published that piece:
If anything ever goes awry with the King Cricket site, you can find that piece here instead.
It seems churlish to complain about too many nice events, but this particular week really did include a surfeit of them for me.
I had already enjoyed the Parasite evening at Curzon Mayfair…
…and the Z/Yen 25th anniversary party at The Old Bailey…
…and it was still only Tuesday.
The three events described in this piece were the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of the same week.
No photos from this event, but the above photo and link is from one of the highlights of the London Cricket Trust’s year – A B de Villiers opening our Deptford Park facility in July.
We thought it would be a good idea to have a meal together after the Trustees meeting this time. We have been gathering now since 2017 planning non-turf pitch and net facilities for London’s parks, without ever breaking bread together…until this evening.
The Three Cranes location in the City worked well for me, giving me the opportunity to clear some work at the office (yes, believe it or not I did also do some work in this event-filled week) before the Trustees meeting at the Three Cranes, which was followed by the joyous meal and libations.
This evening was an excellent opportunity to all get to know each other a bit better. Not just we Trustees, but also the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) people who have been working tirelessly on our intiiative (and participation cricket more generally), plus Ed Griffiths and his team who have been doing so much wonderful pro bono work on behalf of the LCT over the years.
One of many good thoughts that emerged from the evening is that we still haven’t actually watched any professional cricket together; we’re hoping to put that right during the 2020 season.
A very enjoyable evening.
It’s been a big year for anniversaries. Not only the Z/Yen 25th (the alumni party for which is linked again here and at the very start of this “hat trick” piece)…
…but also the 40th anniversary of NewsRevue, which had its alumni event during the summer:
One NewsRevue alum who, sadly, only just made it a few months beyond the 20th anniverary of that show was Ivan Shakespeare. We “Class Of ’92” types who were NewsRevue contemporaries of Ivan meet on an irregular occasional basis, three or four times a year, to keep in touch with each other, eat, trade jokes, share bizarre quizzes and also to remember Ivan. We’ve been doing that since mid 2000, a few months after Ivan died.
In the seasonal version of our gathering, the stakes increase markedly and we play one of the quizzes for The Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Trophy. I am proud to be the donor of the original Memorial Trophy, which was first contested in 2002, about 18 months after the dinners started.
It’s a bit like The Ashes, but for comedy writers rather than for cricketers.
Much like The Ashes, the trophy is a thing of exquisite gimcrackness; it’s absence of taste simply has to be seen to be believed:
The problem is, unlike The Ashes, the trophy is inscribed with the winner’s name each year…
…and the original trophy is running out of sensible places for the embazoning of the winner’s name…
…OK, there never were sensible places for the emblazoning, but now we are even running out of silly places to inscribe.
The solution: a new trophy. Acquired through the sort of tenacity that only Graham Robertson could possibly deploy – an eBay purchase which he needed to make twice because the first eBay vendor of tasteless out-of-date royal gimcrack merchandise took Graham’s money and did a runner.
The assembled alums at our new spiritual venue, The Spaghetti House in Holborn, decreed that Mark Keegan, who won the original trophy three times, should become “steward-for-life” of the original trophy.
As usual I came quite close but no cigar for me in the trophy stakes since 2004. Barry Grossman scooped the glittering prize this year – with sincere commiserations to Barry – he could have been an also-ran, but instead…
It wasn’t all quizzes and trophies; oh no, no, no, no, no, no no. There was plenty of time for eating, drinking, topical humour and some sense-of-irony-sapping politics on what was, after all, an election night.
Moving swiftly on from the will-to-live-depleting topics back to the humour section, John Random produced another set of personalised Christmas crackers this year, based on the BBC Radio 4 programme In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg.
My cracker contained a note posing the intriguing question:
What do you call a deer with no eyes?
Frankly, I had no idea and would gladly have said, “no idea”, but for the answer provided, which instead said, in Braggian tones:
With me to discuss what you call a deer with no eyes, I have Ian Harris, Professor of Mammalian Opthalmology at Gresham College and author of In Darkness Let me Dwell – and Professor Jonny Hurst from the University of Manchester, author of Champagne Super Over: Oasis In Popular Culture.
There is sort-of a tradition in recent years for at least one person’s order to go horribly wrong at the festive dinner. This year it Barry Grossman who suffered the indignity of being brought his main at starter time and a starter-sized portion of his chosen main at main course time. The nice waiter did his best to sort things out.
Ironically, Barry went on to win the quiz, as did Jonny Hurst in 2017 when it was his turn to be the brunt of the ritual service humiliation – in those days at Cafe Rogues in Holborn not far from the scene of this year’s crime. That year, 2017, John Random’s personalised crackers had been based on the Moral Maze. He likes his thinky-Radio-4 programmes, does our John.
Anyway, the night of 12 December 2019 will surely be remembered as a great night for NewsRevue alums…and Tories…ironically.
In the world of crime fiction, criminals have a regular, unfortunate tendancy; returning to the scene of the crime. Whether that is true in the real world or not I have no idea. Nor do I have the faintest idea what that point might have to do with this section of this piece.
Anyway, just three days after the Z/Yen Alumni function at The Old Bailey, the current Z/Yen team regrouped in that astonishing building for the staff seasonal lunch.
On this occasion we found ourselves in the smaller function room, used daily for the judges pre-luncheon drinks, after enjoying our pre-lunch drinks in Michael and Elisabeth’s apartment. Once again Sean, their footman, proved his skills as a photographer – thanks Sean.
The meal was a very good one; smoked trout fillet, followed by a posh duck dish, followed by an apple tart-like desert.
The wines tasted suspiciously like those excellent wines we’d enjoyed earlier in the week and seemed suspiciously well food-matched for the lunch, thanks to the combined skills of Gordon Clunie and (in all modesty) me.
Linda produced one of her fiendish seasonal quizzes – let’s not even talk about how badly Simon Mills and I did as a so-called team on that one.
Secret Santa visited (I got some baritone ukulele strings) and Santa also brought everyone a small box of super posh chocolates.
Then the traditional Z/Yen seasonal sing song. Being exceptionally woke for a boomer, I again recycled a previous effort this year, cunningly adding a topical reference ensuring that no-one would realise that it was recycled…
…unless they looked at the copyright years and/or version numbers and/or read this piece. Here is the 2019 version of The 12 Days Of Z/Yen Training. Excellent, was the performance, especially the “Five Forces” motif, which brought tears to my eyes each time around.
It is a fascinating musical phenomenon that this particular song works in so many different keys: C, C#, B, D, D#, A, E, G#, G, F & F#…all at the same time…at least, it did that afternoon.
After the formalities, plenty of informalities with some additional quizzing, singing, chatting and libations until it was chucking out time at The Old Bailey.
Chucking out time at The Old Bailey on a Friday afternoon works remarkably quickly and effectively:
You are welcome to stay on downstairs if you wish…but no-one will be here with the keys to your cell until Monday morning…
…everyone scarpers sharpish at that juncture.
Some ventured on for more libations at a local hostelry, but after five events in five days, all I could think about was getting home and lying down for a good few hours.
With thanks to Colin Short for this and many of the photos.
The cricket season once again seemed to be over in the batting of an eyelid. Some wags might argue that Middlesex couldn’t even have batted an eyelid in the county championship towards the end of this season. But I’m not that sort of wag.
For both the members’ forum on the Monday and the end of season lunch on the Friday, I was able to secure suitably timed real tennis sessions, hopefully gaining lots of useful practice with my doubles partner, Dominic, ahead of our quarter-final appearance next week.
The Monday evening forum was a surprisingly civilised affair, with members expressing their disappointment with the championship season but little of the bile that some thought might emerge.
Chatting with several of the regulars at the post forum drinks, the mood was mostly quite optimistic for next season, hoping that the progress made this year with the white ball might filter through to the red ball cricket next season. It was also good to hear about several really promising youngsters coming through the seconds – I didn’t get to see any second team cricket this year.
Friday 4 October 2019
I was shocking at the tennis this morning – hopefully getting my bad match out of the way ahead of the proper match next week – whereas Dominic was terrific – hopefully going from strength to strength and then next week yet further strength.
Janie was fashionably late for the Middlesex event although mostly for the unfashionable reason that she had a power cut at Noddyland while doing the washing, which set her back time-wise. Then her cab didn’t show up.
Undaunted, Janie arrived ahead of the meal while Gus was doing the introductions.
Our table included Westy, Brigit, Geoff Norris, Charles Robbins, Jane Saxton and David Kendix – only the latter escaping Colin and his new iPhone camera towards the end of the event:
But before we got to the point that there was all that detritus on our table, we dined on this:
After the awards, we were entertained by a highly skilled and entertaining magician. Some wags would suggest that he must have used magic to get our cricketers consistently to catch his deck of cards as it was thrown around for one of the tricks, but I’m not that sort of wag. The magician did somehow manage to extract a £20 note from Angus for his last trick – that could only possibly have been done by magic – the rest of that outstanding trick paled into insignificance after that initial piece of sorcery.
It seems to me that this event, only recently revamped as an awards lunch in this style, is going from strength to strength each year. The tone of the event is a superb mix of professionalism and clubiness; very much in keeping with Middlesex’s ethos.
Monday 23 September 2019
Whose idea was it to play first class cricket in England beyond the autumn equinox this year? I suppose it is inevitable as the authorities try to fit more and more short form cricket into the central chunk of the summer that the first class season will increasingly bookend those tournaments.
Anyway, this round of matches was entirely played after the equinox (which, for astronomical geeks, took place about 40 minutes before play was supposed to start on 23 September). The Lord’s match for this fag end of the season was Middlesex v Derbyshire.
I had work commitments for much of the day but wanted to show the Lord’s pavilion to a couple of Z/Yen’s keen youngsters; Morgan and Sean (the latter being Michael’s nephew).
I got to Lord’s in time to see a little bit of cricket before the fellas arrived, but by the time they got to Lord’s it was raining. Still, I could show them around the pavilion and could also show them some live sport in the form of real tennis, where a couple of my pals were battling out a tournament match.
After my guests departed, I joined the Seaxe Club evening for a quick drink before going home.
Tuesday 24 September 2019
I had pre-arranged to spend the day with DJ at Lord’s, but the weather forecast looked so shocking we expected no play, so we scaled back our arrangement to be lunch only. I agreed to play tennis as a late substitute at 15:00.
The timing worked very well – I was able to get a good chunk of work done before meeting DJ at Lord’s around 12:15 and taking some early lunch and having a good chat with him.
Miraculously, there was a short hiatus in the rain that enabled some 20-25 minutes of play, which we enjoyed in glorious sunshine, before the clouds and rain returned.
I guessed, correctly, that any further breaks in the rain would be too brief to enable play and in any case I think David felt that he had enjoyed the shortened but enjoyable get together and he would return to some work-oriented tasks.
I had a good hour of tennis before learning that stumps had been drawn early which enabled me to shower, change and get to the Middlesex Sponsors party in perfect time.
Very few sponsors turned up as the weather had been so poor, thus, unusually, I chatted with several players, as they outnumbered the sponsors. I spoke with Ethan Bamber for the first time who didn’t seem to realise how impressive he now looks. I hope my pep talk helped; he did go on to take his maiden first class fivefer in this match so i don’t think it hindered.
I also told Ethan that I had seen his dad play Horatio opposite Daniel Day-Lewis’s Hamlet, which seemed to amuse him:
There was plenty to drink (I was quite moderate) and enormous quantities of cheese (I tried to help out). I also won half a case of wine…again! Half of that half case went in “informal storage charges” to the tennis pros after the party.
Strangely, the rain had completely relented by evening so I decided to partially walk off my wine and cheese.
Wednesday 25 September 2019
I had my prearranged tennis game scheduled for the morning (a couple of hours in the end) and Richard Goatley wanted to see me at noon, so the morning went that way.
I had a good game of tennis and missed little cricket before lunch.
The weather improved (against the forecast) lunchtime, so I grabbed a sandwich and some reading matter, taking up position on the Members’ Bar balcony – a place that is normally hard to get to but which was almost deserted at the fag end of the season.
There I watched, read and chatted for a couple of hours, before deciding that I really should go home and get my work done. What a great idea to have cricket this late in the season when the weather smiles like this:
The match ended, thusly, while I was beavering away in the city the next day – click here.
Let’s be honest about this. Lancashire were already guaranteed promotion and Middlesex were already guaranteed to have missed out on promotion this year before I set off on this trip.
Lesser folk might have bailed out.
Not me. Nor Dumbo, The Suzuki Jimny.
Off we went, at about 7:30 on the Monday morning, arriving at Old Trafford around 11:30 after but one pit stop.
The main car parks were full, so Dumbo had to spend the day at the back of the largest temporary stand in Europe, still there after the Ashes test but decommissioned for this county match.
I then head off to the 1864 Suite to join the other green-bookers – very few from either county that day as it happens – perhaps because this day would have been Day Five of the Oval test, had it not ended in four days.
Splendid hospitality as always, not least from Keith Hayhurst.
I thought Middlesex bowled pretty well on a moderately responsive pitch – although I didn’t witness the first hour, new ball, bowling. But then Middlesex’s day one batting. Oy!
Here is a link to the scorecard for the whole match.
One Middlesex green-booker was so ashamed at the end of day one, he removed his Middlesex tie as he left…to walk the 20-30 yards to the Old Trafford on-campus hotel.
Me? I’d arranged a salubrious AirB’n’B at Stretford/Old Trafford borders:
Tuesday was another fine weather day. Dumbo and I rode out to the Manchester Tennis and Racquets Club – see Ogblog reports passim, e.g.:
A session with Darren Long – very helpful in learning to aim at the tambour with my right arm from the service end and also how to respond to such a shot off the tambour with my left arm from the hazard end. This paragraph must mean a lot of nothing to those readers who are not real tennis aficionados, I do realise.
After showering and changing, back to my digs to drop off Dumbo and then a 10 minute stroll to Old Trafford, to witness Middlesex score the highest ever 1st class score (anywhere by any team) after being 6-down for less than 40. Some comfort I suppose.
To add to my improving mood, I met Clive Lloyd along with Jack Simmons (the latter Janie and I had met at Southport); it’s always a big deal for me to meet one of my childhood cricketing heroes.
Then a chance to wander around the ground and chat with some of the Middlesex regulars.
After stumps, time to go home and freshen up before heading off to the Chorlton Tap to meet Alex (as planned) plus Sam (as arranged the day before) and Steve (who joined the party that very day). A very convivial gathering.
Wednesday morning, back to the tennis court, for an ill-fated match up with a big hitter named Jonathan. My injured right arm had reacted somewhat adversely to the drills the day before and I felt the overuse within 5-10 minutes. Fortunately he is a very friendly, nice chap so we had a good run-around with me playing left-handed off a high handicap and him getting the chance to practice his winners a lot. I donated my Thursday morning court to Jonathan which I thought was the least I could do to compensate him and the chap (a good friend and match for Jonathan) who had arranged an early slot, purportedly for me.
Good cricket on Wednesday, not least a decent second new ball spell late in the day that set up a good position for Middlesex overnight, subject to our boys batting decently Thursday (they didn’t).
A quite evening in with Benji the Baritone Ukulele again Wednesday (did I omit to mention Benji as Monday evening entertainment too)?
Thursday morning – with no tennis I made an early start back to London – dropping off stuff at the house and then passing through the flat on the way to the City for some work and a London Cricket Trust Trustees meeting.
Actually the story of this one starts a few weeks earlier; the Friday of the Lord’s test between England and Australia. 16 August. A rather wet day as it turned out.
Charley “The Gent” Malloy was my guest that day; our last visit to the Compton Stand prior to its demolition. In fact we got less than two hours of cricket before the rain came…then came and went for a while…then the rain came and made sure that those of us who had stuck it out for a while knew that it was time to go home.
In our rush to flee the mid August rain, Charley’s old faithful Heavy Rollers cap ended up in my bag.
We corresponded on the matter and I promised to put the cap in my “Lord’s bag” ahead of our next meeting; this 10 September date.
But come the morning of 10 September:
So when the time came to load up the bags, I thought I could safely offload stuff I wouldn’t need, such as sun screen, sun glasses and what on earth did I need three caps for…one Middlesex cap might even be one to many but I’d retain just that one.
In short, I clean forgot that the Heavy Rollers cap in the bag was Chas’s, promised for return.
To add insult to injury, the morning turned out to be a gloriously sunny one, quite contrary to the weather forecast, rendering several of the rejected items desired items and naturally inducing Chas to enquire about his cap quite early in the day.
Neither of us bathed ourselves in glory during the ensuing post mortem.
Chas was convinced that I was only teasing him and that I really did have the cap with me. I tried to get Chas to share the blame for the mistake, by suggesting that, if it really mattered that much to him, Chas might have sent me a reminder…
…we declared a truce, ironically after seeing Tom Helm receive his county cap, ahead of a lunchtime perambulation on a glorious early autumn day.
Chas’s disposition continued to improve in the Warner, after perambulation, as we tucked in to the picnic of Alaskan salmon bagels, London sour sandwiches containing chicken with elderberry, lovage and lemon stuffing and a bottle of rather juicy Gewurtztraminer.
Middlesex bowled well to extinguish Durham for a modest score and then batted poorly to end the day behind the game.
I did offer Chas the opportunity to stop off at Clanricarde Gardens to collect his precious cap on the way home, which in many ways makes sense from Chas’s ease of journey home point of view. So that’s what we did at the end of a really enjoyable day at the cricket.
We did completely forget about the packet of madeleines, which Chas had brought to Lord’s on 16 August and I had brought back on 10 September, not least because such cakes formed the centre-piece of my King Cricket report the last time we saw Middlesex v Durham together in very similar circumstances:
Anyway, fear not. I got a message from Durham fanatic Madz, otherwise known as 668, also otherwise known as Blackbird…wondering if I’d be around in the pavilion on Thursday for the climax of this match. She was planning on meeting up with some of the Durham regulars there.
As it happened, my meetings/scheduled calls all concertinaed into Wednesday enabling me to do that.
I assumed that Madz stands for Madeleine and thought that she might be amused by eponymous cakes as a peace offering. Which, in a way, she was.
Anyway, it took until just before lunch for Madz to find her way to the pavilion by which time I’d made almost no headway with my reading as I’d been chatting with a fine fellow in the writing room.
By the time I found Madz, she was sitting with a gentleman named Pelham who seemed astonished that I’d head of Pelham Humfrey as well as Pelham Warner. Even more astonished when I said that I’d witnessed some Pelham Humfrey recently:
Madz quizzed me about the nicknames Ged and Daisy for me and Janie, suggesting that it was all a bit confusing. I omitted to mention that Madz or do I mean 668 or do I mean Blackbird has (or at least had) plenty of on-line names of her own.
We half-agreed to regroup for the denouement after lunch, but by the time I’d taken some sun and finished reading my papers for tomorrow’s meeting, Middlesex had fallen apart yet again and crashed to defeat.
Here’s the scorecard – Middlesex fans look away now.
I walked home in glorious sunshine to find England in a relatively good position in the Oval test match…until they too collapsed before my eyes losing five wickets for diddly-squat on a flatty.
Perhaps I should give up watching my teams play cricket…until tomorrow.
The Compton & Edrich stands looked very sad in their half demolished state today.
I asked Charley “The Gent” Malloy and several other friends and acquaintances if they felt sad to see them go. We pretty much agreed that we didn’t. Not the best designed stands. Time to move on.
Still, the sight of it (or do I mean site of it?) brought on three particular memories I’d like to share.
2. The day Michael Mainelli & I sweated in the Compton over Nick Compton’s maiden ton
3. The day Big Jeff and I caused a “litter stopped play” incident from the Compton in 2006
So many happy memories from those stands in fact. But nostalgia for the stands themselves? Getaway!
Trent Bridge looked an absolute picture under lights
Regular Ogblog readers sometimes comment on the relentlessly positive light Ogblog sheds on life.
Some days make that task a little difficult. Take this day, for example. On the face of it, the focal point of the day was a trip to Nottingham and back to see my beloved Middlesex team being utterly thrashed in a quarter final cup tie. Soon after we set off for Nottingham, Janie called me to tell me she’d had her purse snatched with some cash and all of her credit cards stolen/ransacked. Meanwhile and throughout the day, England were having a pretty rotten second day in the Old Trafford Ashes test; a match England cannot lose if it is to retain hope of regaining the Ashes.
So, how do I take positives from such a day? I’ll try to draw up a list.
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).
On arrival, we were introduced to John Barclay, someone I had not previously met and had been keen to meet ever since I read his wonderful book, Life Beyond The Airing Cupboard, in Burgundy, some 10 years ago:
John Barclay seemed genuinely chuffed when I told him how much I enjoyed reading that book.
We also met Marilyn Smith, Middlesex’s new Board member.
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.
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 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.
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.
After lunch, we were introduced to Ray Bloom, who is a Director of Brighton & Hove Albion Football Club.
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.
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.
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.
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 Brighton 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.
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.
