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!
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:
“You have reached your destination…”Ah, the other side of the road; a bit better I suppose.
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.
Rackets Court at Manchester – never tried itReal tennis court resplendent in the early morning light
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)?
Image from Brighton a few years back
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:
I was rushing around like a mad thing getting the picnic ready;
Life had intervened on countless matters to make “Charley’s cap” a little lower on my memory list than certain other things;
The weather forecast said that the day would be cloudy and possibly even a bit nippy.
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 bowling metaphorical googlies at me while I tried to maintain order
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, uncapped
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.
Next day selfie with old-style Heavy Rollers cap…MY Heavy Rollers cap
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.
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.
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.
Also unlike last time, I didn’t need to drive to the match – Middlesex organised a coach trip for this fixture, which spared me a longer drive than I fancied and at least meant that I was in good company throughout the day;
We got to Trent Bridge some two hours ahead of the match. We strolled around that lovely ground making a close to full circuit (part outside, part inside) to our Radcliffe Road end hospitality. On the way, I met Mark Butcher and Rob Key who were kicking their heels prior to their commentary duties. King Cricket aficionados will be especially excited about the Rob Key encounter, I suspect;
The Trent Bridge hospitality was superb, as always. Several familiar Nottinghamshire faces and quite a substantial contingent from Middlesex. I met new Middlesex board member Edward Lord for the first time and Marilyn Smith, whom Janie and I met at Hove and whose son Ramon used to play tennis as an infant at Boston Manor, brought “little Ramon” with her, which showed that “little Ramon” ain’t so little any more. I had very enjoyable chats with all those people and plenty of others;
Clive Radley went back to the coach early, once the result was no longer in doubt, to finish off reading his book, which was about Auschwitz. As Clive and I agreed, that rather puts the idea of “having a bad day” into perspective;
Did I mention that Trent Bridge, which looks a picture at all times, looks especially so under lights? Worth saying and depicting again.
The County Ground Hove is a lovely setting for cricket, so Janie and I couldn’t resist the timing of Middlesex’s away match there this season, despite it overlapping with Day 5 of the Lord’s test and a need to be back in London later that week.
So, I arranged three nights in Brighton with a view to seeing most of Day Two and the remainder of the county match, plus an opportunity to visit cousins Sidney & Joan on the Tuesday, plus the likelihood of a bit of spare time in Brighton for once.
That likelihood of spare time was exacerbated while Janie and I sat at Lord’s watching the test match on the Sunday, by Middlesex’s rude ejection from the batting crease at Hove, en masse, for 75 in a mere 130 balls.
Daisy’s role as a visiting totem for Middlesex victories and/or close finishes is becoming a distant memory.
Still, we arrived at The County Ground Hove on Monday around 12:15/12:30, following the traditional difficult packing exercise (Daisy) and roadwork-enhanced drive (on this occasion, me).
John Barclay seemed genuinely chuffed when I told him how much I enjoyed reading that book.
John Barclay (furthest left, facing) and others at lunch
We also met Marilyn Smith, Middlesex’s new Board member.
Marilyn and Me
It turns out that Marilyn lives in Brentford and used to bring her son, Ramon, when he was very young, to the very Boston Manor tennis courts where Daisy and I play each week. She knows Linda Massey (of Friends of Boston Manor fame) very well.
Indeed, when we told Linda a few days later that we had spent some time with Marilyn in Hove, Linda pointed out to us, on the wall of the Boston Manor pavilion cafe, a picture that a very young Ramon had drawn for her, many years ago, as a thank you:
Monday was a glorious day for cricket at Hove, albeit not a glorious day’s play for Middlesex, who were coming very much second by stumps on that day.
Members seating areaPublic seating area
We had been well fed and well watered on the Monday, but still, after checking in and settling in to our AirBnB cottage, the old Toll Cottage on the junction of Regency Square and Russell Square, we thought we’d try the Regency Tavern across the way from our digs. I fancied a drink as I had stayed dry all day and, after all, how big a portion could the pie, mash, peas and gravy possibly be at that price? Massive, basically.
We wouldn’t get steak and kidney, if this match was playing in Sydney
We should have shared one between the two of us. Except it was yummy so we both made serious headway into our portions.
Tuesday morning, we walked (or should I say waddled) to The County Ground. Another glorious weather day.
Daisy, questioning all the “balls on the head” incidents that had occurred at Lord’s a few days earlier, asked Mike Selvey if he approved of such intimidatory bowling.
Selv and Me, both trying to do the “there’s no such thing as a dumb question” bit when tackling Daisy’s enquiry about short-pitched bowling.
Daisy had more success with her penetrating questions about corruption in cricket (and sport generally) from the previous day, as John Abbott brought her some interesting reading in partial answer to her questions on that subject:
We had a super sit-down lunch of casseroled chicken on the Tuesday; a different vibe from the less formal (but also excellent) buffet on the Monday. The hospitality at Hove is superb, both in terms of the catering and the friendly people.
We had a very interesting chat about television rights and national administration of football (about which I know almost nothing) and cricket (about which Ray claimed to know little). Ray is clearly a Sussex CCC fan as well as a Seagulls grandee. Based on his football experience, Ray had some fascinating opinions on how the new Hundred tournament might work…or not work.
Janie and I had arranged to visit cousin Sidney and Joan for tea that day, so we left The County Ground once Middlesex were bowled out a second time, which conveniently coincided with the umpires calling tea.
The result of the match wasn’t much in doubt; nor was there much doubt that the match would end that evening while we were at Sidney & Joan’s house, which is conveniently located half way between The County Ground and our AirBnB cottage.
Nevertheless, as we left, a friendly steward, James, asked if we were returning tomorrow. I explained that I didn’t think there’d be any cricket left in the match by then, but that we would return if there was. James then asked if we were coming to the T20 match on Thursday. I explained that we were Middlesex guests and that Middlesex were playing a T20 match at home on Thursday. “Come here anyway”, said James, “it’s nice to have you two here”. Now THAT’S welcoming stewarding!
It took us little more than 10 minutes stroll through Hove to get to Sidney and Joan’s house. There we enjoyed some tea and wonderful cake produced by a local baker who, it seems, produces really delicious home-made delicacies to order for local folk such as Sidney and Joan.
Sidney and Joan also cracked a bottle of wine to help the conversation flow. At one point Sidney noticed me look at one of the notifications that popped up on my screen, documenting Middlesex’s inevitable defeat.
Keeping in touch with the office?, asked Sidney.
No, just keeping in touch with the cricket score at Hove, I replied. Sorry, I can’t help myself.
Should’ve guessed, said Sidney with a smile.
It’s always a pleasure to see Sidney and Joan. After a couple of hours, we said our goodbyes, then Janie and I strolled back to our little toll cottage.
We only had one problem with hiring the Toll Cottage; we couldn’t work out how to take tolls from the passers-by, although we can see which window we should use and where the toll gate should be erected. But should we collect a farthing or a ha’penny from each passer-by?
Flummoxed by even the most basic questions with regard to our sinecure, we decided on an early night instead. We had plans for a busy day exploring Brighton the next day, now we knew there was to be no cricket.
I wanted to go up to North London Cricket Club to take a look at one of Middlesex CCC’s participation programmes. I wanted a bit more context around my work with London Cricket Trust, in part to inform my decision making and in part to inform any further media stuff I might be doing about it, possibly some as early as next week.
Picture borrowed from the North London Cricket Club website – click the picture to see the site.
Katie Berry thought the Wilf Slack Cup at North London Cricket Club would be a good example and I thought that 15 August, a date that I had put aside for the August Z/Yen Board meeting, an event that tends not to happen due to holidays and indeed was not going to happen, was a very good date for me to make such a visit.
Weather wise it turned out to be an excellent choice, sandwiched between two very wet Lord’s test match days. Work-wise it wasn’t quite so ideal, as a few things came up that needed my attention and I needed to deal with those ahead of going to Lord’s for a soaking the next day.
Still, I got to North London around 12:40 and was able to stay for a little under two hours, looked after by Pete Jones who is a key fellow in Middlesex’s participation team. He was able to give me a lot of useful context to the work we are doing and planning to do through the London Cricket Trust. We were also, usefully, joined by Mohammed from the ECB’s participation and growth team who also had some useful and interesting context to give me about such participation programmes in other parts of the country, as well as London.
Considering that the tournament was for 14-17 year olds of mixed ability and experience – ranging from some of the better colt players from strong clubs to young enthusiasts who were perhaps getting their first experience of playing hard ball cricket on a full sized cricket pitch, I thought the standard was pretty high.
I was a bit regretful that I couldn’t stick around and watch the tournament pan out for the afternoon – it was a glorious day for hanging around cricket – but I did need to get home and get some work done. Indeed, I got so deep into one or two tasks, I ended up rushing in the end to get out the door in time for the Streatham BBYO reunion gathering at Imperial China.
There was a coincidental connection between these two noteworthy, North London and then South London, activities of the day. The 14-17 year old age band of the Wilf Slack Cup coincides almost exactly with my age during the Streatham BBYO years and both of those activities were linked to the two “Mission Implausible” challenges that I had assumed at the last reunion gathering in May.
The first of those challenges was to provide cricket facilities for Mark Phillips’s school, Deptford Green. I must admit at this juncture that I rather set this challenge up when I found out that Mark was the Head Teacher at that school, as I was pretty sure that we were imminently due to put a London Cricket Trust Non-Turf Pitch into Deptford Park. What I hadn’t known, in May, was that we would also be able to get one of the greatest cricketers of all time, AB DeVillers, to open the facility for us in July.
The second challenge was to track down Barry Freedman after all these years. This I failed to achieve through the BBYO Facebook network but succeeded in doing through the Kim and Micky connection. It’s not what you know…as they say.
Woddi, Terri and Barry (sounds like a group of England cricketers and their nicknames), from way back then (1979).
I thought we might be a little short of people for the 8-person table I had booked, but I needn’t have worried. Sandra and Mark had both said yes but were demonstrably both abroad right up until the last minute. Still they both – almost AB DeVilliers-like, hot-footed it from their vacation to our event.
I did a shout-out on the BBYO Facebook group. Terri got in touch and hoped to come along and try to replicate the above picture, but sadly in the end couldn’t make it. Simon Ordever wanted to pick up an age-old rivalry between supporters of Crystal Palace (Eagles) and supporters of 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.
Clockwise from me: Paul, Andrea, Sandra, Linda, Barry, Liza, Mark. Many thanks to the waiter whose photographic skills were surprisingly good considering his polite reluctance to accept the task.
It had been great to speak with Barry again when I called him some weeks ago and likewise it was great to see him again along with the group. Hopefully Barry will be able to join us again at the (now traditional) May gatherings. I find it very enjoyable spending time with everyone in the group. The years just seem to fall away when our group gets together, as I have said in reports of several previous gatherings, which have been happening since 2014.
It was a lovely ending to a busy but largely enjoyable day.
Of late, I have been immersing myself in writing up the journal and some impression pieces about my visit to Mauritius, which was 40 years ago exactly. Devotees of Ogblog (i.e.subscribers) might well be aware of this; others not so.
Ahead of his latest visit, John Random e-mailed to say several things, including this about one of those journal pieces:
A Jew Hunt in Port Louis reminds me of something not very interesting I must tell you about next Thursday.
I had felt quite frustrated about the above piece since I realised that my mother had not only thrown away my article about the resulting great story I discovered once I hunted down the mystery man in Port Louis, but that she had also thrown away my journal notes for 10 and 11 August 1979, as part of the same inadvertently vandalistic act, in the name of “clearing out rubbish”.
Putting that to one side, John and I had a pleasant lunch and did some more fiddling around with his archive of writings. Less progress this session than the previous session, but the previous session had yielded plenty of unexpectedly retrievable data from his old collection. Actually even this day’s session seems to have yielded more than I thought it would.
Then I raised the matter of John’s “Jew Hunt anecdote”.
Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just that, 20 or so years ago, Jenny and I went to a Mauritian community event in South-East London. There was a bookstall at that event, where I looked at a book called The Mauritian Shekel. It looked really interesting but in the end I didn’t buy it. Your headline, “A Jew Hunt In Port Louis” reminded me of that book.
I nearly left it at that, but my curiosity had been sparked, so I asked John if he remembered what the book was about.
It was a fascinating true story from the time of the Second World War, about a large ship full of Jewish refugees from Central Europe, who had been turned away in Palestine and who were eventually given refuge on Mauritius…
“Hold on!”, I yelled. “THAT’s the story the mystery Jewish man told me in Port Louis. THAT’s the very story I’m desperately trying to recall. The Mauritian Shekel, did you say?”…
…it might not have been cheap, but it was available as a rare second hand book on Amazon:
So the book is on its way and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to reconstruct my missing article/story from it.
At about 17:00, John went off in the direction of the Proms while I went off in the direction of Lord’s. I bagsyed some seats for me and Jez Horne in the Warner Stand, then went for a quick meeting with Katie Berry for a briefing on participation cricket in Middlesex.
Jez messaged me to say he thought he was a little delayed but should only miss an over or so. In the end, he arrived just in time for the start of the match.
It was good to catch up with Jez again. I hope we can catch up again when Janie and I are in Hove and he also intends to join the Z/Yen party at the Hampshire game in a couple of week’s time.
This Middlesex v Surrey match always has some real frisson to it, though, being a local derby. More often than not we Middlesex fans end up disappointed at this fixture, but of late Middlesex have been doing better and tonight demonstrated that improvement.
AB deVilliers and Eoin Morgan were scintillating with the bat; Steve Finn magnificent with the ball.
The first Ashes Test, it was. The match started on a Thursday this year (it was a Wednesday start last year), so I put my name down for just the first two days of the test.
On the Wednesday, I went up early so that I might have a two-hour music lesson with Ian Pittaway. I normally have my lessons with him by Skype; just occasionally having a face-to-face lesson.
On Skype, Ian looks like this:
…but this time, in real life, he looked more like this…
…so much so that I thought I’d gone to the wrong door at first.
Anyway, it was a good lesson and I was also able to cement some of the tips and techniques we discussed as I had more time than I find at home, while up at Edgbaston, to practice .
On to the Eaton Hotel, where a late lunchtime snack was to prove a problematic ask, so I wandered off to the local TGIF for a starter, a coffee and some reading.
This year we have been joined by Peter and Matthew – family friends of Nigel and Viv from Australia. Really good company, well-humoured guys, they seemed to slip seamlessly into the somewhat quirky group that is The Heavy Rollers. Only Harish absented himself from the Wednesday evening feast – he was coming up to Edgbaston on the morning of the match.
I arranged to meet the lads at their hotel, the Plough and Harrow, at 9:30 with a view to walking with Peter and Matthew to the ground.
Day One: 1 August 2019
I enjoyed a delicious and efficiently-served breakfast of kippers at The Eaton, then wandered down to the Plough and Harrow to find an irritable table of Rollers and Guest-Rollers awaiting their breakfast. They had been waiting for nigh-on an hour when I arrived.
Slowly and not altogether surely, one-by-one, their breakfasts arrived. Mercifully, Peter and Matthew were among the first to be served,so we were able to skedaddle around five-to ten, arriving at the ground and getting through security just in time to witness the toss.
The others, arriving by car, were also in reasonable time for the cricket though not the toss. We spent a great deal of time wondering how difficult it can possibly be for a hotel kitchen to churn out breakfasts at some sort of reasonable pace.
Jimmy Anderson was not able to do anything at reasonable pace that morning either – after four tidy overs he went off, never to be seen bowling again – at least, never in that match.
The other England bowlers set about their enhanced roles well; at one point having the Aussies 8 down for not much more than 120. Then Smith and Siddle went about staging a match-turning recovery. I blame Charles, who said he likes Siddle because he plays for Essex and that he wanted to see Siddle score a few. Turncoat. (Charley, I mean, not Siddle).
The picnic was a Dot “Mrs Malloy” special, with enough sandwiches to feed a small army and a great deal of non-perishable food which came in very handy on the Friday (and no doubt beyond).
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub Me, Matthew, Peter, Chas, Nick & Harish
For reasons known only to himself, Nigel stood aside when a kindly bloke behind us offered to take our photo at stumps that day.
Matthew, Peter and I walked back; I parted company with them at St George’s Church to save a bit of time, as we had agreed to all meet in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of jars.
Over those jars, it transpired that Peter and his good lady had taken their honeymoon in Vanuatu, so we spent some time swapping Vanuatu trivia stories over drinks, which was better than another hot topic – bemoaning British and Australian politics.
Day Two: Friday 2 August 2019
I enjoyed an English breakfast, efficiently and effectively served, checked out of the The Eaton and walked to the ground alone today. I discovered all of the others in their seats around 10:40. No doubt they had gone down to breakfast in the Plough and Harrow at 6:30 in the morning or some such.
Our seats, directly opposite in The Raglan Stand, offer an excellent view of the shenanigans from an ideal distance. Several strolls all around the ground, including the back of the Hollies, reinforced my view that my ideal spectator experience is the very opposite of the Eric Hollies.
I did offer Peter and Matthew an opportunity to choose their own Ogblog pseudonyms, but, like most people, they were foolish enough to leave that matter up to me. Hence “Papa Pete Blong Vila” and “Boe Blong Pete” were born. More on them and all of us should appear on King Cricket, eventually.
Dumbo (my car) rode like the wind, but had to do so the long way round due to a closure on the M40. Thank goodness for the sat nav, which turned me round and sent me through Birmingham and the M6 South at the very start of my journey, otherwise the extra 20-25 minutes that the detour entailed might have been an extra hour plus in traffic jams.
Well played, Dumbo
I thought I’d left England in a good position at stumps on Day two, which I had. But in my absence it all unravelled in the next two-three days. Only Australians, neutrals or mentally strong England fans should click here for the scorecard and cricinfo resources on this match.
The very first ball of the very first test match between England and Ireland
23 July 2019 – the day before the inaugural test match between England and Ireland. I had arranged to play real tennis at Lord’s that afternoon, but got the call to see if I could play “senior gentleman’s doubles” at noon. This was not especially convenient for me, given my chosen 16:00 slot for singles, but I acquiesced to play “if they were desperate”. I got the call at about half-ten.
As it turned out, the main senior gentleman had got his dates mixed up and wasn’t there, so I ended up playing a not-quite-so-senior gentleman’s singles. I played rather well, perhaps spurred on by the presence of two of the Ireland test cricketers; Kevin O’Brien and Andrew Balbirnie, who took a great deal of interest in the game and watched for a good 20 minutes or so.
Returning to Lord’s for my 16:00 session, I realised that playing two hours of singles on a very hot day was not ideal, but it went fine. Coincidentally, as I arrived at the ground Kevin O’Brien was leaving Lord’s. I leaned out of the car window:
“Don’t you want to watch some more tennis?”
“You’re back for more?”
“Yup, I must be mad”.
24 July 2019– Day One of the test. Dominic and I had been talking about finding a day to go to Lord’s with Janie and Pamela for a county match, but as I had tickets for this match, it seemed a good idea to use this Ireland test for our gathering.
Janie took this picture of me, Dominic and Pamela
I brought smoked salmon bagels and Dominic brought a superb selection of cheeses from La Fromagerie. Dominic was one of two people who sent me messages, within a few minutes of each other on the preceding Sunday, wondering about brie cheese given the weather forecast for very hot weather. The other brie-enquirer was Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett.
It was indeed a blisteringly hot day, especially as the sun came out full pelt in the afternoon, making my excellent Mound Stand seats a little over-exposed. Fortunately, we managed to find our way to a clutch of newly-shady seats in the Warner mid-afternoon. It’s not what you know…
Janie took this picture of the cricket
By that time, England had long-since been rolled for diddly-squat and Ireland looked to be in the ascendancy.
Still, it was a most enjoyable day of cricket-watching, eating and chatting.
25 July 2019 – Day Two of the test.
Hazy – but even hotter than the previous day
The weather was set to be even hotter. I knew I’d need to get to Lord’s pretty early to secure shady seats in the Warner. So I did that.
My guests for Day Two were Charles “Charley the Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks. On the water front, I brought a spare refillable flask but in fact Chas brought one for each of them, along with the picnic, which Dot “Mrs Malloy” very kindly made up for us all.
We’d agreed in advance that we’d have an alcohol-free day given the extreme heat. I suspect that bar takings were much lower than the MCC had hoped for too. Despite that, the St John’s Ambulance people were kept busy that day – it really was a scorcher – a record July day apparently.
The cricket was good – England set a fairly modest but probably defensible score ending the day nine-down, which meant that there was to be cricket on Day Three. Hurrah. Mostly thanks to an unexpectedly dogged night-watchman job by Jack Leach for England.
25 July 2019 – Day Three of the test. The original plan had been for Chas and Nigel to join me on Day Three as well, but circumstances intervened and they both dropped out several weeks ahead of the match.
In the end, for reasons far too dull to explain, I ended up with three guest tickets to dispense, which ended up in the capable hands of Simon “Awesome Simo” Jacobs, Bobbie “Báirbre” Scully and Pamela (see Day One). Dominic was also going to join us once he had escaped from the Tower of London.
The weather was less than special first thing, so my early morning mission to secure good seats on Day Three comprised finding a similar level of cover as was required for the shade the day before, but also in a position that would avoid any squalls of rain. Again, success.
I took plenty of reading matter as I guessed that none of my guests would be turning up early.
Pamela, who lives nearby, texted in to say that she was going to wait until the showers passed (smart move).
Simon was slightly delayed, but not as delayed as the start of play, so he got to see the first ball…
…which was also the entirety of the remainder of the England innings.
But before that, I had already received a text from Bobbie. I have previously described Bobbie’s timekeeping, which, traditionally was based on leaving Place A for an appointment at Place B at roughly the appointed time to be at Place B. This works fine if Place A and Place B are very close to each other; less fine if they are some distance apart.
…but for the Ireland Test Match she reverted to type. At 10:57, three whole minutes before the test match was due to start, I received this text from Bobbie:
Right, I am leaving [home] now – somewhat behind planned schedule (you will not be surprised to hear)…
Actually, with the rain delay, innings break and then another rain delay very early in the Ireland innings, Bobbie and Pamela (both of whom arrived around 12:15/12:30) only missed about eight balls and no runs. Just the one wicket.
…in fact, the cricketing side of things was done and dusted just over an hour later.
That’s not enough time to get through a whole picnic.
It wasn’t even enough time for Bobbie to get through her cricketing anecdote. It turned out that this wasn’t Bobbie’s first experience of international cricket; it was her second. The tale of her first, from 1977, is such a good anecdote it deserves its own Ogblog piece. Perhaps Bobbie will write it as a guest piece or perhaps I’ll have to ghost write it.
The stewards allowed us and the assembled masses to continue our picnics and convivialities for some time, although the arrival of the marching bagpipe band to “entertain” us seemed like an excellent way for the considerate host that is the MCC to make everyone feel that they remain welcome while driving all but the sturdiest (and/or deafest) away.
Simon decided to depart quite swiftly. Dominic joined us briefly before going off to change for his game of realers. Pamela, Bobbie and I watched Dominic play real tennis in the absence of any real Irish folk playing cricket.
After that, Bobbie and I retired to The Bridge (home to the Canal Cafe Theatre) for a more comprehensive catch up.
A most agreeable end to a convivial and sporting week.
Sort of three hours of doubles for me, as Neil at Queen’s asked me at the last minute to help make up a doubles the evening before, so I was still a little sore from trying to keep up with Bomber, The Saint and The Biscuit (all well above my handicap/pay grade).
For our two hour session, Dominic and Bill (as last time), but this time we were joined by Snitch for the first hour. After Snitch left, we played a real tennis form of Canadian Doubles, with the server/receiver from the doubles pair grabbing the “honour” of doing the hard work as the single player until defeated.
I worked up quite a sweat, especially as the single towards the end. Then picked up the message from Fletch at Middlesex CCC that Kevin Hand wanted to interview me this evening about the London Cricket Trust and AB de Villiers, for BBC Radio London and BBC Essex, so we arranged that between the sweats and the showers.
Soon after I set off in Dumbo for home, I felt a touch of cramp starting in my foot and tried to wriggle my foot while braking for the lights…but instead slipped my foot onto the accelerator, requiring me to switch to emergency stop braking which made one hell of a screech.
Better than half-a-yard…or more or less the nick. Phew.
I signalled an apology to the driver in front, who seemed to be apoplectic with rage, leaping about in his seat and waving his arms. Then I realised that he was car-seat-jiving while listening to loud music. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed my near miss.
When the lights changed, the jiver/driver in front zoomed off ahead of me, as fast as I have ever seen someone zoom out of Palliser Road. Whether he was just that sort of driver or desperate to get away from me I’ll never know.
Then some work in the sweatshop that is my little office at home on a sunny afternoon.
So I had another shower before heading to Lord’s – not for the start of the match but in good time for my “over 18 of the first innings” appointment with Fletch.
As I got out of the shower, the phone was ringing. Fletch.
Can we meet a little earlier than I said – like over 15?…
…sure, I’m just getting ready to leave…
I’m sorry, it’s because I have other media to do on the pavilion side in the interval after dropping you off…Eoin Morgan…
…should be no problem, Fletch, but I need to get off the phone so I can put on some clothes and leave. I know its radio, but I figure I’ll still need to put on some clothes to get through the street, the gates and to the media centre?…
…yes, I think that would be for the best.
In fact I was making good time and got to the Maida Vale/St John’s Wood borders, where I knew I could park easily, bang on 18:30. So I was in the ground and able to watch cricket for about half-an-hour before wending my way round to the media centre, where I enjoyed the commentator’s view of the last few overs and could hear the radio commentary of course…in the commentary box.
Below is my interview, which runs for about eight minutes if you want to hear it all.
In the commentary box was the artefact pictured below. It seems that the media centre tea-time spread was adorned by this artefact for each of the world cup matches at Lord’s, with the badges of that day’s competing nations shown on the helmets. Left over from the world cup final on Sunday:
Kevin Hand was apologetic about the shortness of the interview and the fact that he sort-of had to leave me to it while he photographed and tweeted about Eoin Morgan. But Kevin owed me no apology for that; it was great and timely publicity for the London Cricket Trust charity.
In any case, it seems Kevin might want me to do the odd additional slot with him this season. If for no other reason, I think he’s keen to disambiguate Ian Harris and Ged for any listeners who might, understandably, be bemused and/or amused.
Kevin also apologised to me when he discovered that I came in especially for the interview as I hadn’t planned to attend the match. Again no apology needed as I live so close by and in fact I am so glad I was there for the post world cup afterglow. The Middlesex v Essex match was even played on the world cup pitch.
In fact I stayed for just the first few overs of the Middlesex innings before heading home and catching the end of the match on the broadcast.
One final anecdote. When I mentioned during my interview that AB de Villiers had come out to Deptford for us just a few hours after landing from South Africa, Kevin wondered whether we might have tired him out ahead of his first appearance for Middlesex. I think the scorecard and match reports attest that Kevin needn’t have worried.
