I have entered the MCC real tennis tournaments (handicap variety) for the second time this year – singles and doubles. With great difficulty, four of us had eventually arranged our “Round Of 16” doubles match for the late afternoon of 2 July; a day which Janie and I had arranged to take off work.
As fortunate coincidence would have it, Ed Griffiths had to reschedule the soft launch for our London Cricket Trust for that afternoon, so I was able to accept, subject to being released in time for my match and blagged Janie an invite for that low-key event too.
I shall report more about London Cricket Trust on Ogblog anon – once we have progressed from soft launch to hard launch. Suffice it to say at this stage that it is an innovative charitable venture, bringing together the four London-based counties (Essex, Kent, Middlesex & Surrey), designed to put cricket facilities – mostly in the form of non-turf pitches – into London’s parks and commons.
Ed Griffiths arranged for us to have a short Trustee meeting before the event – in part to prepare our low-key, short shpiels and in part to go through some regular business. For some reason, Janie seemed to find the idea of sitting in the Coronation Garden on a glorious summer day more attractive than sitting in a meeting room observing a Trustee meeting, but promised to return for the event, which she did.
For some reason Janie took this – perhaps to help her navigate her way back to the Tavern Stand Box for the event
The event went well, with representation from each of the four counties involved and from the ECB who are funding the early phase investments and managing the tendering processes for the installation of pitches etc. We should be ready for a formal launch, with several facilities up and running, before the end of this season.
I then hot-footed it across to the tennis court to get ready. My partner to be, Iain Harvey, had previously let me know that he thought that we were on the wrong end of the draw for this tournament (which I took to mean basically him drawing lowly me as his partner) and especially this match up, against Messrs Friend and Muir – a very experienced pair.
On arrival on the day of the match, Iain tried to put me at my ease by saying, “we’ll do well to get one game off these two”. I wondered what Ed Griffiths might make of this motivational technique. Not quite the style I could imagine Ed adopting.
Trying my best, studiously observed by my partner
Actually we did rather better than get one game, although not in the first set. We took the second set 6-5 and even managed to hang on in there to 5-5 in the deciding set, before succumbing in heartbreaking fashion to the deciding game of the deciding set. It was a bit of a thriller and I think all of us were a bit surprised at how competitive the match became in the end.
Of course I was disappointed not to qualify, but it is all a learning experience for me at this early stage of my real tennis “career” and think I exceeded expectations in that match, which is a sign of progress.
Let’s see how far I can go in the singles tournament – I’m still in that one – with the Round Of 16 still to play – and/but I have a fair bit more experience at singles. Not that I shall be going around Lord’s saying “it’s coming home” or anything like that.
Anyway, Janie took some vids. I rather like this one – where I am on the hazard (far) side on the right and emit a bestial roar as I play my shot, while Janie emits a supportive yelp when Iain subsequently wins the point for our team:
My quirky piquet serve didn’t much work against this level of opposition, but on this one occasion it did:
I even hit a winner which Janie captured on film, although it was rather lucky to end up a winner, I admit:
Janie should have taken more vids, because it seems that the only ones she took depicted us winning points…
…which is not really telling the whole story of the match…but it is perhaps telling her story of the match.
For some while Janie had been expressing a desire to see Sissinghurst Gardens. So when she saw an article about the place in a Waitrose magazine, together with a rave review for The Milk House as a suitable place to stay and eat in the village, our plot was hatched.
We hadn’t arranged anything for Janie’s birthday weekend and, as luck would have it, Middlesex were to play Kent at Canterbury starting that Monday. A perfect storm at the planning stage, so I arranged for us to stay an additional night and dine at a super-looking place just outside Canterbury – The Iffin Farmhouse.
I didn’t realise, when I arranged the trip, that Sissinghurst is so very close to the Yeandle residence in Frittenden. So when I mentioned to Mark where we were going, he said, “but you must come and visit us, our house is a 25 minute walk from Sissinghurst if you walk across the Sissinghurst Estate.
Sunday 24 June 2018
So, Janie and I played tennis at home early on the Sunday, had a wardrobe-design session with Glenn and Daniel for an hour or so (long story) then showered and set off for Kent. I figured that the roads would be clear while England were playing World Cup football, which was true, but the roads were still very busy for the first 45 minutes or so of our journey, before the football match started.
Still, we got to Sissinghurst soon after 14:00 and enjoyed a super lunch at The Milk House. Prior to lunch, we had an interesting encounter, in the garden bar, which ended up on the King Cricket website – click here or below:
The roast of the week looked like a massive portion ahead of a walk across the estate, so we opted for signature dishes – Daisy for the burger and me for the bangers and mash.
Then a very pleasant walk across the estate. We took the picture (below) the next day, from the top of the tower, but it depicts the top of the archway through which we walked and technically I think you can see the Yeandle House in the distance, probably the size of one or two pixels in the photo.
Superb views of gardens and surrounding area from the top of the tower
Actually the Yeandle House is bigger than a couple of pixels and was awash with family and neighbours sitting around the swimming pool, eating strawberries and drinking Pimms. As Mark put it, “for some unknown reason, the Yeandle House seems to be very popular on hot summer days”.
Sadly, the strawberries were not the local Frittenden ones I have praised in Ogblogs passim…
…yet still they were Kentish strawberries and tasted very good indeed.
Janie gave the boys (I should now really say young men), Freddie and Sebastian, the benefit of her views on how young men should interact with young women, which I am sure they will find immensely helpful. I’m not 100% sure whether the expression on grandfather Geoffrey Yeandle’s face was fascination, shock or a combination of both.
Later in the day, after we’d had a guided tour of the Yeandle estate and we muttered about leaving, Jane Yeandle offered to run us back to Sissinghurst village. Janie tried to decline this kind offer by suggesting that we would hail an Uber from our phones or – after she was politely told that there is no Uber in deepest Kent – call for a cab. No cabs either. So we gratefully accepted the kind offer of a lift.
Tired and happy, we had an early night.
Monday 25 June 2018
We enjoyed a super breakfast at The Milk House before checking out and driving to Sissinghurst for the centrepiece of our visit.
In the herb garden, one of the many wonderful areas in the grounds, an old seat has been turned into a camomile pot, with a clear message telling less sensible visitors not to seat there. I spotted one bumpkin trying to sit down there nevertheless:
Janie doesn’t tend to linger anywhere, not even beautiful gardens, so we had a thorough walk around making sure we got to see all of the various formal gardens – we’d chosen “peak rose” season in a location that specialises in roses – then had a look at the house – in particular the library and tower.
Another superb view from the tower
We also took some light refreshment and looked at the exhibition about women and gardening – little did we know how closely the women’s suffrage movement was linked to the equally radical notion of women gardening, back then. Janie is fascinated by Vita Sackville-West – almost to the same extent as the Bloomsbury lot whose homes we visited in Sussex last year:
Once replete at Sissinghurst, we drove on to Canterbury – less than an hour cross-country – to check in and freshen up at the Iffin Farmhouse ahead of popping down the road to see a couple of hours of cricket.
One thing I hadn’t counted on when I first arranged the trip was the fact that the cricket match was to be one of those day/night, pink ball affairs, until the pink-ballness of the occasion came up in conversation with Beefy Roberts at Lord’s one afternoon earlier in the season. Whoops.
Still, I learnt of my mistake far enough ahead of time to arrange for us to visit the cricket in two tranches – the second session (late afternoon) on the Monday and then the first two sessions on the Tuesday.
In changing those plans a few weeks ahead of time, I also phoned to see if I could slightly vary our arrival, departure and eating times at Iffin Farmhouse. Thus I discovered that the Iffin people were very friendly and sounded flexible. I also discovered that anyone who answered the phone might be named Sarah but would not necessarily be the same person. (Strangely, our hostess at The Milk House also turned out to be a Sarah).
When we arrived at the Iffin Farmhouse we in fact encountered a man gardening; he was not named Sarah – he turned out to be David who is the man of the house but not really the person with a pivotal role in the hospitality business. Still, he helped us to our charming bungalow and promised that Sarah would no doubt be back to see us some time soon, which she was, so we were able to finalise our dining arrangements just before we set off to Kent CCC, which is just two to three miles away from the Farmhouse.
We were well looked after in the Kent CCC Committee Room for the couple of hours we stopped by on the Monday, although we had said that we didn’t want formal hospitality that day.
Photo taken before Middlesex batted – obviously
We chatted with a few of the Kent regulars (more on them below) but particularly with a couple of MCC gentlemen who were guests of a Kent Committee member and showed signs of having been enjoying the hospitality for some hours before we arrived. One of them, named Rodney, was especially skittish.
Middlesex couldn’t quite finish off Kent before the second interval, but still appeared to be in a good position at that stage. We took our leave of the party and returned to the Iffin Farmhouse for dinner.
David and Sarah present dinner on our terrace at twilight
A very tasty chicken dish in a sort-of Spanish style with rice and a hearty salad. Janie wondered whether we were eating the kin of the chickens who were in full view while we ate, but Sarah assured us that they do not eat their own Iffin chickens. Still, it was local free range chicken with a superb flavour and texture.
Daisy much enjoying her grub in the open air
The only thing that rendered this outdoor dining experience less than blissful was the constant buzz of “wicket alerts” from Cricinfo, letting me know that Middlesex’s batting was falling apart rapidly.
Still, we persevered with our food, enjoying a very nice pancake thing as a dessert and I even got to see a small owl in a suitably distressed-looking tree before we went to bed.
Tuesday 26 June 2018
Next morning, Sarah cooked us a splendid breakfast of Kentish kippers (kippers with a poached egg on top). We took our time, as there was no cricket until 14:00 and Janie really didn’t fancy an outing ahead of cricket. Sarah and David were very accommodating, allowing us to hang around the farmhouse until we wanted to leave. Janie read on the porch while I took the opportunity for a baroq-ulele jam, which David and Sarah’s ageing spaniel seemed to enjoy:
Me and the farmhouse spaniel; old enough to remember some of the songs I sing?
David and Sarah were very interesting and charming hosts. David is a child psychologist who has done fascinating work over the years, while Sarah was a civil engineer who used to specialise in sewers…she told us this after she’d cooked and we’d eaten dinner!
We certainly would and probably shall stay at the Iffin Farmhouse again…if Middlesex and Kent perchance are ever in the same division again.
On to Kent CCC where our host for the day was Kent President Jonathan “Jo” Rice, who was one of the authors of the Guinness Book Of British Hit Singles and Albums, of which I have several editions. Don’t take him on in a pop trivia quiz; he really knows his stuff. Excellent company though and he wore his popular music knowledge lightly…
…possibly just as well, as one of his other guests was the classical conductor Nicholas Cleobury, who was, along with his entourage, also delightful company. He is currently in England planning his return from Brisbane.
We enjoyed an excellent meal together at the rather unusual hour of 16:00 (that’s what day/night cricket does to the catering arrangements), then at the second interval, as if anyone was hungry again by then, scones, cake and a large platter of cheese which perhaps sustained those who were staying on to the final session – no-one was hungry for cheese at 19:00.
Before tea Janie and I had a very pleasant stroll all around the ground.
A different viewing angle but only one conclusion to be drawn on the likely result
Janie and I said our goodbyes and set off for home after tea; we got a pretty easy run through London.
It was a very one-sided cricket match; Middlesex’s performance was shocking – click here only if you dare see the card. The superb hospitality and charming company made up for the paucity of competitive cricket.
But Janie and I had enjoyed a thoroughly entertaining and diverse few days away, so we were very happy indeed with our short break overall. Sissinghurst really is a stunning and unique place.
I had arranged a fair smattering of away county championship cricket for late June – this visit to Leicester was the start of that sojourn.
Wednesday 20 June
I went to the gym first thing and dropped off a test match ticket at DJ’s place on my way out of town, getting to Grace Road just after the match had started. I saw the first wicket fall as I walked around the ground to find the Committee Room.
The hospitality was warm and friendly at Grace Road. The food was very good too – roast belly of pork being the main dish of choice.
The weather, on arrival, was a bit cloudy and mizzley – indeed play was even interrupted for a few minutes in that first session – but Middlesex did not make as much progress with the ball as the conditions suggested they might. This was to be the story of my visit – the Middlesex under-performance bit – not the weather bit – the weather improved massively in the afternoon and stayed glorious for the rest of all time.
Bob Baxter from the Middlesex Committee was with us that day; it was a good opportunity to chat with him as well as our Leicestershire hosts.
This trip included my first ever use of Airbnb. I drove into town after stumps to my loft apartment in Newarke Street, where Jitesh and Rita met me (the owner, their son, Hersh, works in London during the week).
I simply got my bearings that evening, together with some light bite food for that evening and biscuits for the mornings. I played my baroq-ulele a little and went to bed early.
Thursday 21 June
A relaxing morning with a bit more music before walking to Grace Road today. A similar crowd in the Committee Room again today. Again I spent quite a lot of time talking to Paul Haywood (the Leicestershire Chairman) today…and being quizzed by John Lee, who seemed pleasantly surprised by my cricket trivia knowledge but a little put out that I have no such knowledge of football. Mike & Mrs Soper joined us for the day, somewhat unexpectedly, which added to the interesting mix.
Another very good lunch – this was the one and only time I had a little wine with my food; an excellent soft beef dish was the centrepiece today.
A quick shower and change, then on to The Cosy Club to meet Mike Wardle and his charming girlfriend Zoe. That was a very pleasant evening indeed. The Cosy Club is basically a rather chic bar restaurant which enabled us all to eat as much or as little as we wished – an ideal set up for three people, two of whom had lunched and “tead”.
I had promised to report back to the Leicestershire grandees on this place, which I think they imagined (due to its name) to be a seedy Leicester establishment which had somehow manged to escape their attention all of these years. But in fact they didn’t need my help on the topic of the Cosy Club; Neil Dexter wandered in while we were there, so he can tell the locals all about it in his and their own time.
Mind you, having assured readers that the Cosy Club is not a seedy place, I’d better leave it to Mike and Zoe to explain why they placed a packet of Nude cheese on our table. before our food arrived.
Nude cheese? Oh, madam, please!
Friday 22 June
I went for a stroll around central Leicester – not least to find birthday cards early morning – which were not so hard to find thanks to Mr Google – then I checked out of my Airbnb apartment – both Jitesh and Rita came to get the keys – and presumably get the place ready for the next guest. They might not be the “Bank of Mum & Dad” but for sure they are the “Housekeeping Team of Mum & Dad” when son Hersh is away.
I found a nice shady spot to park Dumbo for the day at Grace Road,
I spent much of Friday chatting with Jack Birkenshaw, who was very interesting and enjoyable company.
The lunch was once again excellent. We were joined by Glenys Odams, who was the first ever woman to serve on the board of a first class county cricket club and has continued to represent Leicestershire at county level (albeit as a veteran table tennis player) into her 80’s – respect – what an extraordinary person. She was also very jolly company.
Middlesex started to play a little better on the Friday, although it felt like a pretty hopeless cause at the time.
I was advised that the best way to avoid the Friday traffic was to stick around until stumps, which I did…and indeed got a surprisingly quick run back into London, driving straight to Noddyland from Grace Road after saying goodbye to my kind and charming hosts.
Postscript
So sure was I the next day that this match was a hopeless cause for Middlesex, I got on with things without really following the game, until right towards the end, when I switched on the internet radio. Janie and I were then utterly transfixed listening to the last few minutes of the match, huddled together in the Noddyland man cave.
But my main memories of this trip will revolve around the warm hospitality and interesting people I met while at Grace Road for a few days…and the Nude cheese incident in the Cosy Club.
…still refer to me as “young man”: Lord’s and the Wigmore Hall.
Janie and I ended up going to both of those places on the same day, but sadly, no-one referred to me as “young man” in either place. Perhaps our mistake, in this regard, at Lord’s, was to take the youngsters, Charlie and Chris (Lavender & Escamillo Escapillo), as our guests. These terms are comparative, after all. In other regards, however, this was not a mistake, because we all four had a most enjoyable day at Lord’s.
Janie and I got to Lord’s really early, to secure enough seats in Janie’s favourite pavilion spot; the upper sun deck. And in order to achieve that, we both got up ridiculously early. Janie was on picnic duty for this one – never a quick and dirty process in the morning however much preparation can be done the day before.
Janie had sourced quite a lot of the food (and indeed other weekend food) at Finn’s – which seemed most appropriate with Steve Finn skippering Middlesex for this match.
Steve Finn congratulating Max Holden for his fine bowling. Holden can bowl – who knew? Image embedded from Middlesex CCC Website
So the picnic basically comprised some cheesy biscuit nibbles, ham rolls, sweet nibbles, beef rolls, carrots, tomatoes and grapes. A bottle of Vouvray and a bottle of Pinot Noir. Yummy.
Our little group got quite jolly and at one point there was a round of hat swapping, which left Chris looking a little unusual in Janie’s big colourful floppy sun hat. I primed my camera for a photo, but Chris felt that, as I am a captain of industry, it would be best not to have a permanent record that showed me to have been in Chris’s company…or something like that.
A suitably sensible-looking photo
The occasion was, in part, timed to coincide with Chris’s birthday. He mumbled about producing a birthday honours list, on the basis that, if the queen could have such lists, why couldn’t he?
Meanwhile Charlie (the only one of us not drinking) occasionally went into schoolmarm mode in a vain attempt to restore decorum. She seems to quite like that role these days.
Also meanwhile, Middlesex bowled really well, we felt. At no point did Australia really get away and we kept revising our estimates of the potential Aussie score downwards. Nathan Sowter took an absolutely stunning catch to secure the first wicket and perhaps settle the nerves of some of the younger players such as Barber, off whose bowling that catch was taken.
The Middlesex batting looked a little weak on paper for this standard of opposition and so it proved on grass. It’s a shame that one or two of the more senior batsmen didn’t dig in a little more, which might have given the less-experienced players a bit less to do. Still, young Holden batted beautifully and the Middlesex players for sure did not embarrass themselves. They gave the Aussies a good workout and the crowd a good match to watch.
The weather smiled on us – the sun was out much of the time but not too hot – it was warm throughout the day, even when the sun went in.
We sat and chatted in the members’ lounge for a few minutes after stumps, to let the crowds subside then walked together to St John’s Wood before going our separate ways; the youngsters further north-west, while we went two stops south to Bond Street and on to “The Wig”, to see Django Bates Belovèd and guests play jazz.
An interesting mix of bluesy, Charlie Parker type jazz and more modern, experimental (almost free) jazz – the latter type pleasing us (especially Janie) less.
Below is a vid of the trio performing without guests.
One of the guests was an incredible saxophonist, Marius Neset. Below is a vid of him performing, but not with Django:
I liked the female vocalist, Claire Huguenin, more than Janie did – I thought her vocals added subtle texture to the music, whereas Janie felt that her voice got lost in the instrumentation. Below is a vid of her performing with her own crew:
Django Bates traditionally wears hats and has adopted the beanie in recent years. His beanie on the night had a sort-of blood and vomit colouring that might have been in honour of the MCC and our earlier visit to Lord’s…
…but on the other hand the colour match was almost certainly a coincidence.
One thing I do realise about no longer being so prone to the description “young man” is that days that start early and end as late as this are no longer in my comfort zone – nor Janie’s. We were ever so happy at the end of a successful and enjoyable day, but also ever so knackered…
…and both of us feel some sense of trepidation about taking our aching backs onto the tennis court…we’re leaving in five minute’s time as I write.
Postscript 10 June
Well, Janie managed to get her body moving again marginally better than I did. But as we came off the tennis court after a long session trying to get moving again, we saw Gerry – an elderly Irish dog-walker, with whom we quite often converse.
Good morning to you, young man, good morning young lady,
said Gerry. So there is a third place where we might still, just occasionally, be addressed in that manner – Boston Manor.
Further, all of my previous attempts to watch cricket at Merchant Taylors’ School (I believe three) had been totally rained off on my attempted day, to such an extent that I hadn’t even ventured to the ground before.
So I suppose it was understandable that the weather forecast a few days ahead of the game somewhat spooked Fran:
Oh heck, just seen the weather prediction for Merchant Taylors on Wednesday; rain, thunder and lightning. You couldn’t make it up!
By the time I got to see Fran’s message, about 12 hours later, the weather forecast was showing rain for the previous couple of days but clear weather for the Wednesday itself. Me to Fran:
Unreliable forecast, yours. Look again – problem solved. Seriously, I won’t go if the forecast on the day is poor but I suspect it’ll be ok.
Nearly 24 hours later, when Fran picked up my message and by which time the forecast was again showing thunderstorms spilling over until Wednesday, she was unconvinced:
Yeah, as long as you don’t mind being struck by lightning! Charles the gent did mention you were a perpetual optimist…
In the end, the weather pretty much did what the forecasters were inferring – i.e. we had quite a lot of rain, thunder and lightening on the day before the match including some into the early hours and even the morning of the game, but all passing through before the match was due to start.
I guessed there’d be a delayed start but with the forecast clear for the hours of play, it was highly likely that, once they started, they’d get a game in, even if a reduced one.
I kept an eye on the on-line information. Almost as soon as I saw that the 11:30 inspection confirmed that play for a slightly reduced match would start at 12:00, Simon called me to tell me same. I told him I’d probably get to MTS around 12:30, which I did.
Fran and Simon had got there pretty early and saved me a seat with them at the front at a pretty handy “third man” view, quite near the hospitality tent.
What a lovely setting Merchant Taylors’ School is for watching cricket.
A lovely setting for watching cricket
I knew that Fran lived nearby, but I hadn’t realised that her son, Paul, went to MTS, so she really does know the school well:
A view of the school across the playing fields
I learnt last time that Fran and Simon are not picnic lovers, so I simply took some nuts, fruit and liquids for sustenance, as had they.
It was actually perfect cricket watching weather; warm but not hot. Not sunny, but not gloomy either. Out-ground county cricket has a lovely relaxed atmosphere to it; you are watching a very high grade of cricket but you are watching it in an environment that feels more like a club or even a village match.
Time passes, the scoreboard ticks round…
We chatted, we watched, we engaged with one or two other spectators and with one or two players.
Such a day passes very quickly and very pleasantly.
This wasn’t a good match for Middlesex. Yet again Middlesex batted first, stalled/didn’t really get going and thus ended up short of a total that would really enable our bowlers to apply pressure. 30 or 40 more would have been a different story, I sensed. It was the same story in several such matches this season.
But as a day out and gathering, for sure it was a success. Fran and Simon got to see a whole match. And we actually got to spend best part of a day watching cricket together; third time lucky. A very enjoyable day.
It had not been my plan personally to spend three days on the trot at Lord’s for this test match.
The plans, hatched many, many moons before, revolved around a request from Charles “Charley the Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks for me to assist those two in a mission to spend three days together at the Lord’s test.
The plans were:
Thursday – I would join Chas and Nigel;
Friday – just Chas and Nigel;
Saturday – Daisy and I would both join Chas and Nigel.
The logistics of implementing those plans to the point that we had tickets to enable all that were complex, onerous and uninteresting to the casual reader. Still, the plans were all in place…
…but we all know what can happen to plans…
…and Nigel’s knee decided to muck up the plans by rendering Nigel unable to attend Lord’s. Here’s wishing Nigel a rapid and speedy recovery.
The logistics of reworking the plans to the point that we were not dumped with unwanted tickets were complex and uninteresting to the casual reader. Hats off to the MCC ticket office for helping to minimise the onerousness of it.
But the upshot was that I agreed to join Charles on the Friday, so he could avoid being “Charley No Mates” that day.
Hence three days on a row for me.
Day One: Thursday 24 May
I went to the gym early and then got to Lord’s really early to avoid the crush and to observe the real tennis for a good few minutes before taking up my seat. I had learned that Mr Johnny Friendly was to be playing at doubles that morning; I wanted to observe his technique now that I play.
When I got to my Upper Compton Stand seat, about 10 minutes before the start of play, I observed that Chas had not yet arrived and that a well-built gentleman was sitting in the seat that would have been Nigel’s.
Chas arrived some 15-20 minutes after the start of play, bemoaning the length of the queues for security at that hour at Lord’s…as if he’s never been before.
“How come I’m sitting next to the big bloke?” asked Chas, in a voice that sounded, to me, loud enough for said big bloke to hear. Soon enough, though, we were both in conversation with Liam Big Bloke, who turned out to be a really pleasant young man, well-versed in matters cricket and also in matters food – he is a trainee chef working for Sat Bains in Nottingham’s only two-star Michelin restaurant.
At one point in the conversation, Chas talked up Daisy’s cooking ability in glowing terms. “Really good homely cooking,” I interjected, “not two-star Michelin style”. “I understand”, said Liam gently; I’m quite sure he did.
In fact, everyone in our immediate vicinity on our row seemed very nice. A very friendly couple to my right; the woman, Marilyn, said, “excuse me, young man” to me, on the first occasion she wanted to leave her seat. I told her that I am thus addressed all-too rarely these days, even at Lord’s and the Wigmore Hall. She seemed to find that funny but found different appellations for me each time for the rest of the day.
I wish I could speak highly of other people around us, but sadly the group of young men behind us were very loud, very drunk from very early in the day and really quite a nuisance. My back was soaked in lager at about 11:30 – anyone can have an accident, but I really didn’t appreciate them finding the incident funny and needing to be told to apologise and to try and sort out the mess.
By the end of the day, that group was singing raucous Barmy Army songs and trying (without success) to start a Mexican wave in the crowd. It’s the first time at Lord’s that I have really felt stuck in front of an unpleasant crew all day. At least the rapidly drunken posh boys in 2014 only managed to stick the first session.
In front of us was a very grumpy couple, the man of which wanted to read his book in the quiet and seemed as pissed off with our row for being gently convivial as he was with the raucous row behind us for being raucous. The woman of the couple left early.
Still, the day had its compensations, not least one of Mrs Malloy’s splendid picnics, complete with personalised notes in ornate gold-coloured calligraphy describing our sandwiches in mouth-watering detail. The centrepiece of one being corned beef, the centrepiece of the other being smoked cheese. I brought a bottle of wine, an Austrian Grüner Veltliner since you asked, which we had agreed would be enough for the two of us that day. I also brought arm-extending quantities of liquid and fruit, as promised, but Chas had forgotten that promise so also brought heavy quantities of liquid.
…Mike Archer, Trevor Cooper and Geoff Young. It was really nice to see them – it had been a while – we chatted behind the Compo stand for a while before going our separate ways.
I walked home.
Day Two: Friday 25 May
Same morning routine as the previous day – early gym, cab to the ground, virtually queue-free passage through security, followed by 30 to 40 minutes of observation from the dedans of Mr Johnny Friendly and others at real tennis doubles.
Seats at the front of the Lower Compton for today. Chas was already in his seat when I got there, chatting with the two gentlemen who were to be our neighbours for the day; Michael and Peter. A pair of cricket fans who had known each other for years and whose sons – also keen young cricketers – had ended up at the same school.
After a few casual questions, we ascertained that Michael had grown up very near me, around Tooting Bec Common and that Michael had been very friendly with the Rich family from around the corner. Michael (and Steven Rich) are a few years younger than me, but I grew up with the older sister Gillian, who was my contemporary. What a small world it is.
That pair were really good company for most of the first two sessions, until Michael got called away to a family emergency just before tea and Peter agreed to collect their children from school.
…was at Lord’s that day, just above us, with his mother, Awesome Mummy. We had arranged to meet behind the Compton at tea, but with the unexpected departure of our neighbours, I texted Simon to suggest that the Awesome Duo join me and Chas in the front row of the Lower Compo for the final session, which they did, with predictably convivial results.
Chas and I had agreed that Friday would be a light picnic and dry day. Mrs Malloy had provided some mini pork pies, sausage rolls and nibbles just to ensure the absence of the wolf from the door.
During the final session, we nibbled at some sweetmeats and Awesome Mummy’s strawberries, although we lost a few of each to the delightfully friendly but increasingly clumsy passers-by on our row during the latter stages of the game.
Chas asked me, quietly and sensitively, whether he should offer the remainder of the porky snacks to either of the Awesome Duo. I suggested better not, unsure but suspecting that Awesome Mummy might not approve.
I had pre-warned Chas (and latterly the Awesome Duo) that I would need to leave before stumps, as Friday had not been part of my plan and I had a late night concert to get to at the Wigmore Hall.
So I personally upped sticks at six (about half-an-hour before the umpires did same) and walked home.
Day Three: Saturday 26 May
Due to the change of plans, Daisy very kindly took over picnic responsibilities and we thus switched our overnight location from the planned night at Cityland to Noddyland.
So a very early start, Daisy made up a splendid picnic and we set off for Lord’s early to secure good seats in the Warner. We timed our arrival to perfection.
Ground staff getting ready……Ged Ladd getting ready……Pakistan getting ready…only England seemed unready and unsteady
Chas arrived about 30 minutes after the start of play, by which time a very nice gentleman from Fulham had done a superb job of manspreading onto the seat we had saved for Chas. Mercifully we all managed to come out the other side of that etiquette-dilemma socially unscathed.
The wasabi mayonnaise had gone down so well last year, Janie used it with the turkey as well as with the beef. We took a bottle of white (Vouvrey) and a bottle of red (Jip Jip Rock Shiraz) but no option for a bottle of rose instead.
I got a message from Awesome Sue (Awesome Simo’s sister) wondering if we were at the ground, as she was there with her sister Ruth and daughter Lily. I knew that, of course, having spent best part of a session with Awesome Simo and Awesome Mummy yesterday. In fact I had intended to message Sue myself, but she beat me to it. So we agreed to meet up behind the Warner at tea. Which we did.
Chas, Awesome Ruth, Awesome Sue, Me
Only after Daisy had finished taking photos did we realise that Awesome Lily was temporarily absent from the shoot. That is a shame, not least because Lily is probably the only member of that family to have, in cricket terms, earned the moniker “Awesome”, having consistently taken five wicket hauls so far this season for Gloucestershire Under 15s et. al.
When I subsequently reflected that we had not taken any pictures of Lily, Chas instigated a conversation about The Who:
Anyway, it was really nice to catch up, albeit briefly, with Simon’s awesomely lovely family. We needed to keep the catch up brief, for fear that we might all miss the end of the match if we didn’t keep a watchful eye over the England cricketers for the next two hours or more.
For in truth, although we had a good time at Lord’s, as always, the England cricket team had a shocker pretty much from start to finish. In fact, that final session on the Saturday was England’s only decent session in the whole match.
Not just a bad match for England – a shockingly bad one. All credit to Pakistan for playing really well, but England didn’t even compete. Click here if you dare.
At the end of the day, a steward kindly takes our picture……while making us laugh too. Good chap.
On which day did Middlesex come second twice while Middlesex Seconds came first once?
Now that would be a really good sports quiz question…if it were located somewhere other than this clearly dated blog page.
Confused? Let me explain.
I arranged to go to Radlett with Charley “The Gent” Malloy to see Middlesex v Essex. Long overdue, was our joint visit to Radlett – we had planned to go together to a second team match about four years ago but the rain put paid to that plan, although I did write up our replacement culinary gathering for King Cricket – click here or below:
Tempting the rain gods yet further, I contacted Fran to find out whether she and Simon intended to visit Radlett that day. Our previous attempt to watch cricket together at Uxbridge had been well soggy – click here or below:
Anyway, Fran and Simon were planning on showing up at Radlett, so we planned to all sit together.
Then Richard Goatley (Middlesex CCC’s Chief Executive) asked me if I could join him and some others that evening at the Oval for a London Playing Fields Foundation Sports Quiz Fundraiser. Not really my cup of tea, but given the functional connection with the nascent London Cricket Trust charity, for which I am a Trustee – more on that anon – I thought I should go. Richard promised me a lift from Radlett to the Oval if I wanted to help save the planet by limiting the number of cars criss-crossing London that day – I eagerly accepted that offer of a lift.
In fact, getting to Radlett by train was a doddle…
…certainly compared with Chas’s ludicrous hike across from Malloy Manor, which should have taken him 40 minutes and took more like an hour-and-40. I managed it door to door in not much more than an hour.
That enabled me to nab a few decent seats at the front, with Fran’s vertical challenges in mind. I also thought best to avoid the relentless sun, although I didn’t realise quite how cold the shade would be.
The night before the big day, I had a memory flash that Fran had written to me while I was in Mauritius in 1979 and that I still had the letter. She had…I did…I scanned & printed same and took the incriminating evidence with me to Radlett. Click here or below to see the letter and how all that went down:
Anyway, that correspondence proved an interesting conversation piece for the middle part of the Middlesex innings, during which time Middlesex turned a very promising start into a potential disaster.
While Middlesex rebuilt the innings to something approaching respectability (only 30-40 runs short, rather than the 60-70 runs short that the innings at one point threatened), Fran and Simon observed the Chas and Ged picnic much as a pair of field anthropologists might observe a remote tribe. They had read of such picnics on King Cricket and Ogblog of course, but never actually witnessed anything quite like it.
Not really picnickers themselves, Fran and Simon did bring some cashew nuts, enabling us to share and test the relative merits of Marks & Spencer, Tesco and Lidl in the cashew department. Result: little distinction in flavour, but the more expensive M&S ones are larger and would look posher served up in a bowl.
Unfortunately, just before the end of the Middlesex innings, Fran’s mum, who has been poorly of late, called with a minor emergency which Fran and Simon, kindly and dutifully, went off to attend. I hope I’ll be able to catch up with them again soon – e.g. at Merchant Taylor’s School.
Meanwhile I tried to convince Chas (and myself) that 250 might just prove to be enough runs (ha ha) while Essex set out to prove that even the 280-290 par score might not have been enough if Middlesex kept insisting on dropping catches all afternoon.
Mercifully I had to leave before suffering the indignity of the final nails being driven into Middlesex’s coffin by Essex – click here to see the scorecard and details – in short, Middlesex came second.
Then the drive across London, starring James Keightley behind the wheel, Bob Baxter (Chair of Middlesex Cricket Board) in the front seat, with the back seat navigators being Richard Goatley & me…especially me once we hit traffic and I figured that Waze might solve our navigation problems for us.
We got to the Oval in good time.
The opening overs of the charity event were stunning – it was a glorious sunny evening and we took drinks on that OCS sun deck.
Our team/table also comprised William Frewen (like James, from Teddington CC), Ed Griffiths, his nephew Alex (Richmond CC) and a young gentleman named Bruce (I think).
It soon dawned on me that everyone on our table, apart from me, was bringing quite a lot to the sports quizzing party. It also dawned on me that Richard and the others had sort-of assumed that I might be a useful addition to a sports quiz team. Oh dear.
Oh well, I am what I am, an’ I’m not ashamed.
Strangely, I was able to make a few useful contributions, more through general knowledge questions and sort-of knowing how quizzing works than through sports knowledge itself.
Example: as we were going in to the meal/quiz, James mentioned to me that the master of ceremonies/quizmaster/former Rugby Union international, Martin Bayfield, has appeared as Hagrid’s body in the Harry Potter movies. “Park that piece of trivia at the front of your brain, James,” I said, “that’s bound to come up in one of the questions.” It did.
It was a reasonably relaxed atmosphere on our table, at first. But as we started to do better and better on the leaderboard, the competitive spirit on the Middlesex table started to really take hold.
Heading up the Middlesex competitive spirit big time was Ed Griffiths. I have got to know Ed quite well over the last few months, as he is leading on our London Cricket Trust initiative, to put cricket facilities into parks and commons across London. I have a huge amount of admiration for the way Ed is gently but relentlessly driving our initiative forward. I’ll be writing a fair bit more about the London Cricket Trust in the coming months.
So I suppose it should come as no surprise that Ed is a very competitive chap. But his response to the conclusion of the sports quiz, when it was announced that we had come second (out of sixteen), had to be seen to be believed.
At first I thought Ed was joking, as I might have done, melodramatically bemoaning our “close but no cigar” outcome. But when he nearly smashed a glass in frustration and then went to the quiz adjudication table in order to audit and question the results, several of us realised that Ed really was a ball of combative anger.
Ed returned to our table with the news that we had lost by a mere two points, which, given the charitable circumstances, was news that would satisfy less driven individuals (e.g. me) to conclude that we had done really well and that it was for charity after all and that, but for fortune, we might even have won.
Yet the closeness of the defeat seemed to anger and frustrate Ed yet further. He nearly smashed a wine glass again. Writing this up five days later, I think Ed Griffiths might just about be over the disappointment now…but perhaps not. Middlesex had come second again. Albeit this time in a field of 16 rather than a field of two.
Coincidentally, sitting at the next table to us, was a lady who kept looking across at us and who eventually came over to introduce herself; Tom Lace’s mum. Tom is one of our up and coming second team players who, as the coincidence grows, also plays for Teddington CC. Tom’s mum went on to take selfie photos of herself with William and James from Teddington. I am absolutely sure that breakfast time in the Lace household the next morning will have thrilled young Tom, when mum showed him the evidence of her fun evening with the Middlesex CCC/Teddington CC great and good. In my (limited) experience, youngsters love that sort of thing.
On the evening, I chose not to mention that Tom Lace is (the coincidence simply grows to bonkers proportions) my long-form kit sponsorship player this year. I surmised that such news would have been a relative sub-plot to what was already a bit of a sub-plot, so I kept schtum about that.
But I don’t suppose anyone at that fundraiser was left in any doubt that Middlesex had attended and contributed to the evening big time. Not only did we come second in the quiz (I will get over it eventually, really I will) but two of our number bid very generously in the auction. Ed Griffiths bought tickets to a show he didn’t even know existed (until he was bidding for it), while William Frewen procured one of Harry Kane’s football boots.
As William lives quite near me, I offered to cab him and his new boot home on my way. But I signally failed to find a cab or Uber at the end of the evening…
South of the river? Do me a favour!
…so William and I walked to Vauxhall together and journeyed by tube, with William carrying an unfeasibly expensive soccer boot in a presentation box that had been cunningly disguised, through the use of a simple cardboard box exterior as…
…any old cardboard box. Fiendish.
William and I sat on the Victoria Line train discussing the finer details of Middlesex Cricket Board governance and its integration into Middlesex Cricket…like you do.
How can I win England the World Cup with only one soccer boot?It was a fitting end to an odd but hugely memorable day.
An unusual week to say the least. A short one, as the Monday was a bank holiday. The bank holiday weekend weather had been glorious – Janie and I had spent most of the weekend enjoying the benefits of the garden in good weather.
On the Tuesday (8 May) I was asked to join the senior doubles at lunchtime, while I had my regular court booked at 18:00. It was a beautiful day and I was busy writing my pamphlet on Bullshit jobs, so thought that a few hours writing long-hand would do the piece and my posture no harm. I was right.
On the Wednesday morning I went to collect my Estonian e-Residency card, so i am now officially an e-Resident of the Republic of Estonia. Once I had finished my heavy writing sessions, I looked at some Arvo Pärt music in the evening to celebrate my new status.
On Thursday I had a rather frustrating music lesson as my machine kept playing up – in fact all of my machines seemed to be on go slow for some reason. Then Janie and I went to the Pear Tree for dinner with Toni, John and Tom Friend, plus Deni & Tony. Excellent food and an interesting evening.
…before I went on to Lord’s, playing a good game of tennis at 10:00 and then sticking around for the cricket. Janie joined me for most of the final session of the day, before we both went to the Middlesex kit sponsors party, which was fun. Always a nice bunch of people there.
Not only all that, but I got a lot of work done that week too. No wonder I was well-tired by the end of it.
Once again I found myself selected to represent the MCC against Middlesex University Real Tennis Club; a match scheduled for 28 April. But that was not to be my only Middlesex v MCC experience that week.
Tuesday 24 April – Middlesex v MCC
On the Tuesday, 24 April, there was an historic cricket match between Middlesex CCC Women and MCC Women at Lord’s. As it happens, largely by coincidence, I had arranged to play tennis at Lord’s that afternoon. So I rose early to get my work out of the way, taking the afternoon out to watch a couple of hours of cricket and do some leisure reading before playing tennis.
I commuted to Lord’s by public transport and found myself in a swirl of schoolkids and teachers on the Wellington Road – some arriving at the ground for the match and some leaving (there had been another exhibition match in the morning).
Do not be deceived by the empty stands in the photograph below, which I took from pride of place in the Warner Stand. The Grandstand was ram-packed with youngsters watching the game. As I understand it, 5,000 to 6,000 people attended the day, making it the largest ever crowd for a domestic women’s cricket match.
In truth the quality of the cricket was less than special. It reminded me a bit of Janie’s and my first experience of Women’s test cricket, at Shenley in 2003, in cricket quality terms. So there is room for improvement but also proof positive that improvement can come quickly – by 2009 when Janie and I attended the Women’s T20 World Cup final at Lord’s…
From my vantage point at the front of the Warner Stand, I did need to keep an eye on each ball in case it came sailing my way, but equally was able to do some reading too. I was re-reading chunks of “What To Listen For In Music” by Aaron Copeland, with a view to helping my nascent instrument-playing, not least in the matter of transcription, adaptation and shifting modes/keys.
But I was interrupted quite early in my reading by a young woman with a strong Scouse accent who had never been to a cricket match before and wondered whether I could explain “the rules” to her. She in particular wanted to understand wickets.
Unfortunately Middlesex Women at that time seemed signally incapable of taking any wickets – not even the relatively frequent potential catches that were being offered, to help me demonstrate the ideas.
Nevertheless, my pupil seemed to get the idea of catches and clean bowled wickets quite easily. Stumped and run out seemed a little further from her experience, so we both struggled a bit when I tried to explain those. I then paused momentarily to try to work out how (or even whether) to explain LBW, when the young lady told me she needed to meet a friend, thanked me profusely and took her leave of me. I was a little relieved to be honest…as was she, I suspect, as I spotted her at the end of the innings sitting on her own at the front, a few blocks away from where she had collared me. Perhaps she was now explaining “the rules” to an “imaginary friend”. Nevertheless, she waved at me as if greeting a long-time pal.
It was well cold that day. I watched and read from the comfort of the pavilion for a while, before changing and playing two hours of tennis; an hour of singles which went very well and then an hour of doubles, to help me get my head into the doubles side of things for my impending match. After I played, I tried without success to find out the result of the women’s cricket match – both the MCC and Middlesex websites put up photos straight away but not the result.
Friday 27 April – Warm-Up Practice Doubles Ahead Of Middlesex v MCC
When I realised that, by chance, my Friday singles match was to be against one of my MCC team-mates, David Mitchell-Innes, I mentioned this fact in bant form in response to one of the organising e-mails from Carl Snitcher, the team captain and my doubles partner for Saturday’s match:
I hope you are training hard for our role in this fixture. Mr Mitchell-Innes and I are due to do battle towards the cause on Friday…
…so you’ll either have two perfectly honed team members or a last minute need for two substitutes.
This kicked off a flurry of e-mails, initiated by Nick Hewitt (David’s doubles partner), that resulted, instead, in the four of us having a practice session together.
This sounded like a brilliant idea; an opportunity to have four perfectly honed team members. Except of course, when the competitive instinct kicked in, we soon realised that there was the risk we’d end up with a last minute need for four substitutes.
Carl bowed out a little early (it had been kind of him to stay on to join us at all) so when the practice match reached its inevitable denouement at one-set-all, five-games-all, forty-all…
…and I somehow, single-handedly managed to prevail…
…naturally emotions were running high. I don’t have a film clip of real tennis concluding in such a competitive spirit, but I have found a similar-looking example from women’s ice hockey:
Being Friday morning, fortunately, both Mark Ryan and Chris Swallow were on hand to help all of us to leave the court with our dignity intact and mop up ahead of the senior gentlemen, who were next on court.
In retrospect, I think this style of preparation worked better for Messrs Mitchell-Innes and Hewitt than it did for Messrs Harris and Snitcher.
Saturday 28 April – Middlesex University Real Tennis Club (MURTC) v MCC
So to the big day. Janie had kindly agreed to join us for the afternoon and help us to eat what I predicted to be, based on my previous experience of this fixture,…
…a sumptuous lunch provided by David Sloan. I was right about the lunch.
Janie and I attempted to play modern tennis first thing, but the weather was unexpectedly shocking at 8:40 when we arrived on court and we gave up, drenched, at 9:00.
We got to Hendon while the first rubber was in full sway; a close-run affair which MURTC took by a hair’s breadth. Heartbreaking, it was. Almost enough to put one off one’s food. “ALMOST” I said.
So while the next rubber was in full sway, most of us took advantage of the delectable spread. The highlight was a superb joint of roast beef, but there was also smoked salmon, a fine selection of cheeses, plus bread, potatoes and salad.
We socialised. We ate. We got to meet John and Catherine’s delightful cocker spaniels. We watched Messrs Mitchell-Innes and Hewitt take full advantage of their practice session from the previous day to level the match 1-1.
At that stage of the afternoon, Carl seemed less concerned about the impending battle with MURTC and more concerned about doing battle with his internet service provider, who had simultaneously threatened to cut off his services unless he paid his account, while seemingly making it impossible for Carl to pay. At roughly the same time, David and Will did battle with a computer, a large television set and a TV subscription website, to enable us to see the final chapter of the 2018 World Singles Championship.
Next up for MCC was Sebastian Wood and Chris Stanton, the latter I have, coincidentally, known for over quarter of a century from my time writing for NewsRevue – he was the first professional actor ever to perform one of my lyrics:
No comedy involved in the fierce contest of this tennis match, though. But by the time that third rubber was concluded, MURTC were leading the fixture 2-1 and most of the crowd was watching the telly rather than watching the live tennis.
Naturally Janie (Daisy) took pride of place in the dedans gallery, along with a few others, to watch me and Carl Snitcher do battle with a pair of mighty gladiators from MURTC. Even more naturally (to anyone who has seen Daisy play modern tennis) she was cheering and applauding points won from false shots, dodgy bounces and net chords as vociferously as good shots.
In short, it is probably just as well that most of our MCC team-mates were watching the telly during that final rubber. It was all over rather quickly, MURTC winning the match 3-1, at which point those of us still on court mixed it up and played for fun for a good few minutes longer.
After that, we all decompressed and enjoyed some social minutes while watching the very end of the 2018 World Singles Championships on the TV.
Sadly, I don’t have any film clips of this year’s MURTC v MCC match, nor of the 2018 world championships that people were watching on the TV. I do have a couple of similar clips, but they have got all mixed up and I really cannot tell which is which – I’ll have to leave it to the viewer to judge:
Anyway, the match was a great success, both as a sporting and as a social occasion. With thanks not least to David Sloan for organising the fixture and food, Will/MURTC for hosting and making the match run…and of course to Carl for trying to organise the MCC team – a task that might be described as, “like trying to herd cats”.
The original idea for this expedition was to be a day at the Essex v Lancashire cricket match with Escamillo Escapillo as well as Charles. Indeed, Charles had also been hoping to line up Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks – a Lancashire supporter, like Escamillo Escapillo – but in the end neither of the Lancastrians could make it.
With the cricket season still new and the weather set fair (at long last), I was still up for it, so we arranged that I would drive over to Malloy Manor, leave Dumbo in safe custody there, while Charley drove us to Chelmsford for the day.
Charley was on hand to greet me as I arrived along the driveway of Malloy Manor – he then directed me to a very specific parking place he had in mind for Dumbo. It’s protocol galore in such rarefied parts of the land, it seems.
I had the opportunity to greet Mrs Malloy briefly, but Charley wanted to keep the pre-expedition pleasantries to a minimum, as he was convinced that we needed to get to the members’ car park early. As it happens, Chas was right.
But it also meant that I didn’t get to greet The Boy Malloy, who it transpired was also in the house at that hour, as he is on late shift at the moment. That made me feel badly about not having even shouted out a “hello” to the lad, although The Boy could, of course, have come down to say hello to me. The Boy was probably seething with envy in his room, envisaging me and Chas relaxing all day in the sun at Chelmsford, while he would be toiling on a late day at work.
Before the start of play – Chelmsford looked a picture
Chas and I were in the ground and well positioned in the Tom Pearce stand by about 10:20. We would have been in place five minutes sooner, but Chas started to mount the wrong staircase for his favourite spot, realising his mistake quite late in the ascent and displaying considerable embarrassment at his error.
“You’re going to blog that mistake, aren’t you?” said Chas.
“How many years have you been coming here?” I asked.
It was a gloriously sunny day. I took the above picture and zapped it to Escamillo Escapillo, with a kind note:
Missing you already.
We watched the whole of the first session from Chas’s favourite, elevated in the Tom Pearce, spot. But while there, Chas spotted that, across the way, a small stand with green chairs has been erected, where formerly there were just some higgledy-piggledy loose seats. It was from that shady spot three years ago we had witnessed Essex v the Australians and a steward who seemed to have St Vitas Dance:
“That looks tempting for the second session”, said Chas.
“I can see some seats at the front, by an aisle, that would certainly do the job”, I agreed. So that’s where we went for the second session and the start of the third. A shadier spot for the hottest part of the day with an excellent view.
Soon after we arrived in that small green stand, a gentleman with a dog, Clive, arrived and sat near us.
Meet Clive
Chas and I remarked afterwards that, although people talk about County Championship cricket being attended by “one man and his dog”, this was the first time we’d ever seen (or at least noticed) a man with a dog at the cricket.
It transpires that the dog’s attendance is perfectly permissible at Chelmsford. Chas wondered whether the same applies at Lord’s.
“Only if the dog is of the requisite pedigree and from the right sort of family, I should imagine”, I mused.
Clive displayed extreme indifference to the cricket at times, which encouraged me to ask permission to photograph him and blog his pictures. A King Cricket piece on this matter is ready and will no doubt appear quite soon, by King Cricket standards. It will be worth it.
Having enjoyed my ham sandwich in the Tom Pearce (Chas went for cheese initially), I felt ready for my cheese sandwich just before tea – as Chas indeed felt ready for his ham.
But, horror of horrors, it transpired that Chas had eaten my cheese sandwich, not his own.
I should perhaps explain that it is Mrs Malloy’s charming habit to write a little personalised note in each sandwich, describing in detail the delights therein. Sometimes she will prepare different sandwiches for different people. She knows that I don’t like egg, for example, while Chas normally would opt for egg ahead of cheese.
As good fortune would have it, the menu was exactly the same for both of us on this occasion, so the fact that Chas had eaten “my” cheese sandwich rather than his own ought to have made no difference. But I threatened to snitch on Chas for this error. In fact, perhaps fearful of my squealing, Chas himself confessed to that misdemeanour when we returned to Malloy Manor.
Parenthetically, Mrs Malloy seemed irritated and a little anxious about Chas’s mistake, chastising him for his carelessness. Also parenthetically, I have displayed some strange symptoms in the subsequent days, which Daisy has diagnosed as mild arsenic poisoning. Daisy and I are both absolutely sure that these must be entirely unrelated matters.
But I digress.
Chas and I moved on to The Boy Malloy’s favourite side-on view (beyond the members area) for most of the final session of play, taking in some early evening spring sunshine.
Essex had been on the wrong end of this match for much of the day, but as the day unfolded they were right back in the contest, ending up, in my view, a smidgen ahead.
Late in the day we got a response from Escamillo Escapillo to my morning message. I wanted to take and send him a photo of the sunset, but while trying to mug the phone into a suitable light setting, ended up taking and sending a short video instead:
I told Escamillo that it had been super entertaining cricket – which it had.
When Chas and I returned to Malloy Manor, in addition to Chas’s chastisement for the sandwich swap error, I also got a quick tour of the lovely garden and a look at a wonderfully moving cricket team photograph, including Chas’s father, taken in a German prisoner of war camp.
It had been a great day. The weather had smiled on us and the cricket had been excellent. An especially memorable day of county championship cricket.
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