Actually I visited Lord’s twice in the short week before Easter and on both occasions played real tennis.
Given the weather and my other activities, I got more tennis than cricket during those visits.
On the Tuesday, before the start of the cricket season, I had a really good game of doubles, partnering Graham Findlay for the first time and taking on some strong opponents. On paper we should have received some handicap but we played level and still prevailed over 90 minutes. The best I can remember me playing for a long time; perhaps the best I have ever played. Sadly, the CCTV camera stopped running a couple of seconds into our slot, so all I can show of the historic event is this warm-up shot from the hazard end.
Meanwhile Charley “The Gent Malloy” and I had planned to spend the first day of the season at Lord’s together, a bit of a tradition and, with Middlesex playing Essex, a desirable fixture for us both too. But Chas had to withdraw from the planned meet, so I arranged to play tennis first thing with a view to seeing a bit of cricket afterwards, all being well.
Another really good game of doubles, with an opportunity to partner Nick Evans for the first time since goodness-knows-when. Also a chance to play with Bill Taylor again, who was back on court playing competitively after quite a long absence. Again, we played level against the odds for my pairing. This time we lost by a smidgeon. I’d rather not talk about the four set points that went begging, nor my duff call on the opponents’ set point. Again I played well, I felt, but not as well as I had played on the Tuesday.
When I emerged from the dressing room, I ran into Ed Griffiths, Harry Whiteley and Arfan Akram from the London Cricket Trust, who were having an impromptu meeting (chat) about our next stage of activities. They asked me to join them.
In the interludes between the cricket conversation, Ed waxed lyrical about the real tennis, as only he can, suggesting it was a geriatric game, while studiously ignoring the rather good quartet from Prested Hall who were playing by then.
Then Ed collared young Nat, our apprentice professional, asking him why he wasn’t 60 years older than he looked and then asking Nat to provide a three word description of my real tennis.
Graceful, technically gifted…
…came Nat’s spontaneous reply, which I must say I thought was a fine contribution to the debate. I’m not sure what substances (or planet) Nat is on if he actually believes that, but it was a great answer for the context.
The weather then started to smile and Ed wanted to go off to take custody of a ludicrously fast and expensive car for reasons that he did explain but they got a little lost in translation. It’s probably something to do with late-onset-mid-life-crisis.
Ed made a rather disparaging remark about my car, Dumbo, perhaps unaware that Dumbo tends to hang out with ludicrously fast and expensive cars these days:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo & a Ferrari: in Waitrose Bayswater Car Park
But I digress.
I got to see some cricket.
I sat for a while in the Writing Room, but then really wanted to get a feel for the outdoor nature of the game, so took up a position in the Warner Stand…
Then, around 3:15, I started to realise how cold I felt and how close the time was getting to the “afternoon showers” predicted by the weather app and increasingly feeling likely. So I went home.
Still, I had played a good game of tennis, had a useful chat about the LCT (between the bants) and seen a couple of hours of cricket. That’s a pretty good day in my book.
Robert Muir tapped me up for this late March Sunday tennis match at Petworth. I realised that it would make an excellent “excuse” for us (me and Janie) to enjoy a short break in Sussex, having done nothing of that kind for so many months.
I hired, through Air B’n’B, what looked like and turned out to be a charming old cottage in Fittleworth for a few days.
Saturday 25 March – Limping From London To Fittleworth, Then Dining In Petworth
Janie and I played our regular game of (modern) tennis on the Saturday morning and set off after a light lunch.
The adventure did not start well.
Dumbo, The Suzuki Jimny, who had recently had a flat tyre & wheel change, let us know as soon as he went over 40 mph that he was not going to be happy at speed, juddering like crazy. Dumbo is well known around London as a pandemic hero…
…but his popularity on and beyond the M25, juddering along at 35-40 mph. was not evident. People were hooting and gesticulating at us.
Daisy got on the mobile phone, trying to locate garages or “tyre services” near to our location on the M25/M3, with limited success, until someone in goodness knows where recommended someone in Guildford, who suggested that we were nearer to Aldershot…
…two keen lads at Aldershot Kwikfit identified that the problem was tyre-balancing and thought that their machine was not working properly because the imbalance appeared “off the scale”. I guessed that the tyre dude in Acton had sold us a dud, so we decided to limp on to Fittleworth and take stock on Monday.
A sliver of Peshwari Nan, me dear?
We commissioned Sue’s cabs (a two-car, husband & wife combination, in which the wife seems very much in charge…we were allocated husband Charles) to take us to and from our Fittleworth cottage to Basmati in the Petworth Market Square – suitably located next door to the Co-op where we could get some basic supplies for our few days.
We had an excellent meal, comprising Peshwari nan & papadoms to start, followed by chicken tikka shobuz (Daisy’s choice), jatt lamb (my choice) tarkha dhaal and lemon rice. A very juicy Malbec helped to wash all of that down and some very friendly and helpful staff served it all.
Anyway, Robert had kindly arranged for me (and a couple of other Dedanists who had ventured far for this fixture) to play two short rubbers rather than one, which added to the fun.
Kim Walker and Me for the DedanistsA sweet win, coming from behind
Between my two short rubbers, a fine lunch of pies and veg, produced in ample quantities by Robert and Carole.
I partnered Chris Marguerie in the second of my rubbers, which was closer than the first but, much like that first rubber, a victory despite being behind for most of the rubber.
Janie was absolutely rapt with attention during that second rubber of mine. Unfortunately, she was paying attention to Nigel Pendrigh and discussing all manner of paramedical matters rather than hanging on my every shot. What a strange way to spend your time at a real tennis match.
Joking apart, the whole event was wonderfully convivial time with old friends and new, as well as good fun tennis, which is just as such friendly matches should be.
We snacked light that evening back at our little cottage, enjoying the peace and privacy and the rather fruity bottle of white depicted above, courtesy of our host.
Monday 27 March – A Day In Petworth
At the tennis match, we discussed Dumbo’s little problem with several of the locals. Robert and most of the others were emphatic..
speak with Alan at Market Square Garage in Petworth tomorrow.
…so we did; first thing. Alan said he’d give it a try.
Alan’s Dumbo diagnosis was that the dud tyre was “off the scale unbalanced” and needed replacing. He also pointed out that the spare, upon which I had been unconsciously pinning my hopes for several years, was also a dud and would not be a safe replacement. I asked him to order and replace two, such that I’d have a matching pair at the front and the older front tyre that was not a dud could become a useable spare.
Alan told us that the tyres would definitely arrive at some point that afternoon, enabling him to complete the job, but it could be any time in the afternoon.
Thus our plans were laid. We would do our day of walking around Petworth House, Gardens and Deer Park. Worse things could happen to us on a beautiful sunny spring day, two minutes walk from the entrance to Petworth House & Park.
Two minutes later…the park entrance
At the park entrance, we happened upon Martin, who is the head gardener for the grounds. He and Janie had quite a long conversation about plants, shrubs and trees, quite a bit of which was in Latin. I understood “daffodils”, “ponds”, “deer”, “landscape”, “Capability Brown” and a few other words.
Probably best I tell the next part of the story in pictures more than words.
Mostly my pictures around the deer park – one or two are Janie’s. It is a shame my tennis shots are not as consistent as my photo shots.
After that long walk around the deer park we were ready for an early lunch, so we parted company with the entrance fees and entered the house and gardens.
We were persuaded to join a short talk about J.M.W. Turner in the card room first.
Janie savoured this unlikely scene of cricketers and fallow deer in front of the pond
Then we took an early lunch. Just as well we went early – we managed to get a table and our choice of grub: tuna jacket-tater for Daisy, za’atar chicken bap for me. But before we had finished our grub, another couple asked to share our table and they discovered that almost all of the food was sold out…at around 12:50. (Blame Brexit/Covid/Putin/rail strikes).
Then we had a look around the servants’ quarters, not least the old kitchens, which were fascinating and rather stunning in their own way. Janie coveted some of the larger pieces of equipment which were almost as big as our entire kitchen.
More copper than the Met Police“Looks real. Are you SURE we can’t eat it?”The SculleryStill RoomJanie showed our age by confessing that she did a holiday job as a kid for a wealthy, elderly couple who had a communications system that looked just like this
Then we looked at a small modern art exhibition.
Janie’s gloves were well colour-co-ordinated with several of the pictures
Refreshed and mentally stimulated, we set off for a second walk – this time around the pleasure gardens part. A slightly shorter, similar loop to our morning walk, but very different look in the pleasure garden.
Daffodils – see, I did understand what they had been talking aboutIs that the village idiot or did Daisy just twig the folly of the Doric Temple?Is that the Petworth rough sleeper or were the exertions now catching up with Ged?Approaching the RotundaA thrush at surprisingly close quarters
Along the way, we encountered the gardeners again. Janie asked one of them about a particular shrub, to which he said…
…oh yes, you’re the couple that was talking to Martin earlier. I’m not entirely sure, but Martin will know…
MARTIN (from behind a larger bush): Enkanthus perulaus…
…so now we all know. Was Martin following us around?
Not sure, but when I stopped to take the following picture…
…I heard the gardeners’ buggy coming, stopped, stood to attention, saluted and got well splashed by the puddle they went through. Janie, from a safe distance, saw the whole episode unfolding and could not stop laughing for a while. Nor could I. They must have thought that I was a right twit of a city boy!
Once Janie stopped laughing, I took her photo with that magnolia:
Soon we were back at the house and in need of a little more refreshment – i.e. a cup of coffee to perk ourselves up – before looking at the bits of the main house we hadn’t seen before lunch:
ChapelThe Leconfield ChaucerMing, Italianate and Japanese thingsExceptional murals on the grand staircaseSt.Mary’s Petworth, as seen from that staircase
We then left Petworth House, wondering where we might go to while away the time until Alan had prepared Dumbo. Just as we were walking through the exit door into the town, my phone went. Dumbo was ready for us.
Dumbo’s new found friends at Alan’s place
Dumbo seemed a little reluctant to leave his new found friends. To be honest, he’s been getting ideas above his service station ever since he encountered the following mob in a car park a couple of week’s ago:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo and a red Ferrari. That’s Waitrose Bayswater for you
But I digress. We’d had a super day.
Tuesday 28 March – Brighton, Hove & Home
The weather turned yukky again on the Tuesday, but that didn’t really effect us. We rose quite early, checked out of our sweet little cottage in Fittleworth and went to see Sidney & Joan in Hove, via a short stop at Pendulum in Brighton, where Janie likes to treat me to some louder, fancier clothing than I would ever treat myself. This was a successful visit – three shirts, three pairs of troos and a pair of boat shoes.
Trigger warning: you might need sunglasses for my shirts if you run across me this summer.
Nothing looks colourful on a gloomy day, but Daisy thought the car in front of us was well colour-co-ordinated with the Brighton lamp posts
Then lunch with Sidney and Joan, for the first time since before the pandemic, which is too long of course. It was lovely to see them again and we chatted about many things, not least family stories from way back when. Word had reached Sidney about his Uncle Sid’s revived fame as a saw player, explain and linked within the following:
Lunch and the afternoon flew by, which left only the journey home and an early night, as Janie and I were both tired but very satisfied at the end of our short break.
The curry had to wait while I doled out a vast number of “valuable” prizes– with thanks to Tony Friend and Chris Bray for the pictures.
Putting me in charge of the real tennis skills night is a bit like putting Boris Johnson in charge of an honesty bar, or Suella Braverman in charge of a kindness campaign.
Anyway, the powers that be have deemed me suited to the task, perhaps in a bid to keep me and my tenuous relationship with tennis skills away from attempting the actual skill trials themselves. In truth I very much enjoy hosting the event.
It has become a twice-yearly thing now – once in the spring and once in the autumn, which makes sense.
While this team of three deploys its skills, you might just make me out, in the distance, badgering the next team to ready themselves
I did not go into detail in that match report about the vast number of valuable prizes on offer, but the following pictures might provide some clues.
Brandon appreciates winning the “close but no cigar” awardFergus scores a cool half-million bucks as the most valuable playerAndrew Hinds presents the coveted Hinds trophy to the lowest-scoring teamThe victorious trio celebrate their win
I have subsequently re-met several of Geoffrey’s fellow team mates from that 1969 team, but not Geoffrey himself.
No matter. I was interested to hear what writer Jon Hotten had to say about writing this book with Geoffrey and was delighted to get the opportunity to do so at a book/supper club for MCC members, which allowed me also to bring Janie as a guest.
The event was held in the writing room (appropriately – also possibly my favourite room in the pavilion).
The Lord’s pitch looks astonishing at night. When Janie and I first looked, there was a fox meandering in that lit area, but it meandered away before Janie was able to photograph it:
If anything ever goes awry with the King Cricket website, you can find read that piece here.
Nice grub and good company before the book talk:
Jon Hotten and Geoffrey Boycott have previously done their book launch talks as a double act, but Geoffrey was not available for this one. In some ways, that made it more interesting, because Jon was able to talk to us about the process of working with Geoffrey, whom he hadn’t met before being “interviewed” for the role of co-author on this project. I suspect that we’d have heard little from Jon had Geoffrey been there.
Jon Hotten seems like a gentle individual, who warmed to his subject/co-author while recognising that Geoffrey Boycott is a complicated character, loved by some and loathed by others. Jon’s talk was fascinating. The question and answer session also very interesting.
It was John’s turn to choose and my turn to pay. We had arranged the date some weeks before, so when the Sunday came around and I still hadn’t received joining instructions from John, I wondered – by SMS in John’s direction – whether the evening was still on.
Leave it with me…
…said John, followed not all that long after by a message that read:
Brat.
A bit harsh on my character, I thought. I was only trying, politely, to confirm the arrangements.
But John didn’t mean “brat” as an assessment of my character, he meant BRAT Restaurant in Shoreditch, a high-class Basque food place.
John’s follow up messages clarified the arrangements and suggested that we meet an hour before the restaurant booking, as he had secured a cocktail booking at The Umbrella Workshop, an interesting cross between a shop, a tastings venue and a bar, hidden away in an old workshop alley not far from BRAT.
Here’s John trying to look like a serious cocktail drinker in The Umbrella WorkshopI’m hopeless with pre-meal drinks these days, so I went for a soft version
Superb cocktails, both the alcoholic and the non-alcoholic ones. I’d quite like to try the alcoholic cocktails there, perhaps one day after taking some food without any other form of alcohol.
I did taste John’s cocktail – an exotic and really quite amazing variation on an old fashioned. This place really does, seriously do cocktails. It is very small and very friendly. Further, if you like ska, rock steady and reggae, then the play list will be for you.
Then on to BRAT. Super place, located above the Smoking Goat. Here is a link to the sample menu, which is similar to the menu we saw on our evening there.
The place is renowned for its large sharing turbot dish, but we eschewed that one in favour of trying several different things. The helpful waitress recommended four starters and two mains plus sides to share, which was spot on.
We started with:
Fresh Chorizo
Spider Crab Toast
Young Leeks, Walnut & Fresh Cheese
Velvet Crab Soup
I cannot eat walnuts, but John really fancied the leek & walnut dish. Soup doesn’t share easily, so we agreed to go for two sharing options plus a bespoke starter each.
For mains and sides, we had:
Brill ‘pil-pil’ with Cockles
John Dory
Smoked Potatoes;
Wood Roasted Greens.
All of the above dishes were amazingly good. John and I debated at length whether we thought the brill or the John Dory the better dish. Both were exquisite and quite different in style. The brill dish slightly spicy, the John Dory more citrus-tangy.
The headline photo shows John with the spider crab toast.
Here’s me attacking the velvet crab soup
We also shared a bottle of Basque wine: Gorrondona, Txakoli de Getaria, Pais Basco, Spain 2020. It complemented the food well.
We don’t go to people’s houses much for dinner any more. We don’t have people round to our house much either.
I guess the dinner party has sort-of gone out of fashion, but it really shouldn’t have done so, as it is a very pleasant way to spend an evening with friends old and new.
I have known Jilly for many decades – since we were youngsters at BBYO. Similarly Simon – in fact I have known Simon for longer than I have known Jilly…and Jilly has known Simon for even longer than that blah blah.
Simon…so sensible back then.Jilly was even more sensible…and in colour
We were also supposed to be joined by Timothy, but he had somehow managed to get a diary clash, having agreed to accompany Simon’s mum to see András Schiff at The Wig.
Ruth and Daniel are good friends of Jilly’s from the locality, which means Watford and also means that they too have known Jilly for decades…just not as many decades as me and Simon…about as many decades as Janie has known Jilly.
Anyway, point is, it was a really super evening. Jilly made a wonderful meal, with a slightly spicy tomato soup…
Brian Sharp presents the Mason Sharp Trophy To The A/B Category Winners at the end of the MCC weekend.
I played plenty of real tennis (and lawn come to that) in January, building up to the MCC Club Weekend, the last weekend of January, an event that I had either steered away from or had cruelly steered away from me until this year. I’m hooked on the idea of playing in it now, though – it was great fun.
MCC Tennis Chair, Guy Pemberton, applauds, as Graeme Marks presents
The Queen’s Club v The Dedanist’s Society At Queen’s, 3 February 2023
I have previously described the oddities of Dedanist’s Society matches, with many players being eligible for both teams and often not knowing who they are going to play for until the last minute.
But I broke yet more new ground in February 2023 in my role in the Queen’s Club match, “batting for the other side”, because I have, in theory, no right whatsoever to represent Queen’s.
…but I am not a member of Queen’s and not in truth eligible to represent. Further, there were several people listed who were members of both Queen’s and The Dedanist’s. But the timings and handicaps meant that it made sense for me (and one or two other people) to swap sides for this friendliest of friendly fixtures.
I partnered a really pleasant fellow in the first fixture of the day and we did well. I think we set the ball rolling for a Queen’s Club win, but it was hard to tell as we all kept having to look at the schedule to work out which pair was playing for which team.
I think it is fair to say that it REALLY didn’t matter. Nick Browne organised a really enjoyable afternoon and evening – the event was rounded off with a fine meal in the President’s Room – which, as usual, raised money for the Dedanist’s Society’s good causes as well as providing a really good time for us players/attendees.
The concert included an excerpt from a Bach Partita, folk music from Bengal & Assam and then a couple of Amjad Ali Khan’s ragas, both of which arranged beautifully for violin and sarod.
To give you a feel for Jennifer Pike’s wonderful interpretation of a Bach Partita, here is an excerpt from her performing a different Partita:
To give you a feel for the brothers Amaan & Ayaan Ali Bangash playing together, here is a duet recorded a few years ago. No Jennifer Pike of course and a different tabla player – we saw Anubrata Chatterjee.
The music was beautiful, but I must admit that we struggled a little to understand the ancient and modern connections as explained. For example, the notion that the sarod pieces were basically in the Lydian mode, although I think that term could only apply perhaps to the tuning of the strings, not how the music is composed or played. We could however hear wonderful relationships between the instruments and the notion (explained in the notes) that underlying melodies in the ragas are utilised in similar fashion to cantus firmus styles in late medieval, Renaissance and even Baroque music made sense.
Anyway, it was all beautiful music, deployed in virtuoso fashion, leaving us thrilled with our night out at The Wig, as is so often the case.
Image bot DALL-E imagining ChatGPT writing a cricket match report with me
I thought it would be an interesting wheeze to collaborate with ChatGPT, the OpenAI chatbot on everyone’s lips, to see what would happen if I trained it to write a whimsical cricket match report for the King Cricket website. Just in case you don’t know, my nom de plume for such things is Ged Ladd.
I chose the first match of the 2023 cricket season at Lord’s, which will, as it happens, be a County Championship match between Middlesex & Essex.
I trained ChatGPT with three examples of my previously submitted King Cricket match reports, two of which were about similar visits to Lord’s with my friend Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett. (The third is as yet unpublished). For those who like to delve, here are links to the two Charley The Gent ones:
I then provided the following instruction set for a piece named “The First Day Of The Cricket Season”:
comedy, 300 words, on no account mention the cricket itself.
That last instruction is a King Cricket website rule – match reports for professional matches should not mention the cricket itself, whereas reports on our own amateur efforts are encouraged to go in to excruciating detail.
Predictably hilarious results followed. I allowed ChatGPT a few tries, the best of which King Cricket published:
Click through and form your own view on the extent to which ChatGPT is ready to take over from human writers like me. Bert, a regular comment-provider on the King Cricket website was in no doubt:
“…Well, that’s that. Time to pack up and go home. We, as a species, are now redundant, completely replaceable with AI bots.
It was all there. Ged’s sense of the moment, his use of pathos, and of course his acute sense of humour. There is literally no reason for him to exist anymore. No reason. Literally…
I’d be genuinely interested to know what people think about this. But, just in case you were worrying/wondering, I’m not ready to “throw in the towel” and/or “hang up my keyboard” just yet.
…this year’s Crisis at Christmas experience was an unmasked affair.
The “needs must” experiment of using hotels rather than colleges for the residential centres had proved so successful in 2021, Crisis decided to repeat that model in 2022.
Thus Ged and Daisy returned to the “secret location near Hyde Park” where we did our volunteering last year.
Rudolf spotted near that secret location near Hyde Park
A couple of days before our first shift, Daisy was excited to see our actual “secret location” on Breakfast TV:
ICYMI Charly and Matt talked to BBC Breakfast yesterday about why #CrisisAtChristmas is important for so many people and why our support is needed more than ever this year. pic.twitter.com/B63AgWiHrh
As in the past, we met some really interesting people over this period while doing our Crisis shifts – both guests and other volunteers.
Interesting characters, neither guests nor volunteers, seen near our location
This time, probably because we were returning to the same centre, we encountered several volunteers and team leaders that we had got to know the previous year, which was pleasing. Even more satisfying was the fact that we saw hardly any of the same faces among the guests, which hopefully helps to confirm the evidence that the majority of guests last year were helped back onto their feet.
Feeling Old – Feeling Useful!
When you get to our age, stuff happens that makes you realise how old you are. For example, the realisation that England cricket’s latest wunderkind, Rehan Ahmed, is younger than my cricket trousers, as reported recently on the King Cricket website:
But when volunteering at Crisis, sometimes our age comes in handy – especially as Daisy and I are as fit and able as most of the youngster volunteers.
On our first shift, Christmas Eve, a late arrival had possibly missed his slot and was at risk of being turned away. Our shift leader asked me and Daisy to look after him and keep him occupied while “Crisis central” tried to resolve the problem and find him a room.
An interesting character, we asked him a bit about his background. He told us he was born and raised in South-East London. Almost the same vintage as me. When I asked him where he went to school, he said, “oh, my school’s not there any more. I was a Billy Biro…”
…”oh yes, I know”, I said, “William Penn. I went to school around there too”.
We went on to discuss the relative merits of The Specials and UB40…the time flew by. He also took the opportunity to wipe the floor with me at chess. Twice. Bernard Rothbart would have been stunned – not so much at my rusty rubbish – but at how good this fella clearly was. Mr Rothbart would have approved of the matching up I did on subsequent shifts to help this guest and others who could play to get some good chess match-ups.
It’s not all serving food, chess and chewing the fat with guests
That “Billy Biro” was one of several really interesting characters we met this year. From some, we learnt how they had fallen on hard, crisis-ridden times. Some chose not to discuss such matters and left us wondering. In all cases, we just hoped that our small contribution would help them back on their feet.
Utilising Our Food Charity Skills
Daisy and I did dinner service a couple of times, utilising our FoodCycle skills, which we have been deploying on communal meals for the last 15 months, to good effect.
I particularly enjoyed getting the opportunity to do the washing up (yes really!) in a commercial hotel kitchen, never having had the opportunity to use machines and equipment on that scale before.
Dreaming of washing up
Some of the guests are overwhelmed by the experience of being in a hotel and being looked after by a team of kindly volunteers. One guest almost refused to let me take him to his table and serve him his food, because he felt that “wasn’t right”.
Some find it quite difficult to make a decision along the lines of “vegetarian or non-vegetarian pasta”, one guest seeming almost paralysed by indecision until I suggested that he might like a bit of both. “No thanks, I’ll have the meat please”.
It can be quite a leveller, though. When we were on the coffee stall, one particularly demanding guest came to me for a coffee three times during the 90 minutes or so we were on that duty and complained each time. The first time he complained about the coffee, the second time about the sugar and the third time about the angle from which I poured the milk (left-handed, from a full, large flagon, as I politely and smilingly pointed out). Another guest, when I asked him to repeat his order to be sure to make the coffee to his specification, told me off for not having listened properly the first time.
I was reminded of my father’s favourite put down, usually directed towards a politician of his loathing, that the person in question “couldn’t even run a coffee stall”. In less robust minds than mine and Daisy’s, the experience could induce a crisis of confidence.
But, joking apart, the experience is, on the whole, hugely rewarding and satisfying.
It won’t be the same secret location next year, but of course we plan to return to help Crisis next year; of course we do.
Postscript: Returning To Crisis Sooner Than We Expected
Actually we returned to do a couple of additional part-shifts during the final few days at that location. There were rail strikes on those days so we agreed to cover a few hours over the evening meal surge, utilising our FoodCycle skills.
We saw some of our volunteer colleagues from January last year whom we hadn’t seen earlier in the season, which was nice. It was also good to follow through with some of the guests towards the end of their stay.
The leveller motif was continued and even enhanced though, with one guest who seemed especially keen for me to serve him virtually clicking his fingers in my direction for “service”.
On the other side of that coin though, one guest with whom I had chatted several times over the weeks came up to me to shake my hand as he left after his last evening meal. One other regular, whom I had judged to be painfully shy, quietly said to me as he left the restaurant area on the last evening, “thank you for serving me”.
