Formal Launch Of the London Cricket Trust, Seven Kings Park, 4 October 2018

I have been looking forward to the formal launch of our cricket charity, the London Cricket Trust, for many months. We had an informal launch a few months ago at Lord’s, reported here…

An Afternoon Of Small Scale Events At Lord’s, 2 July 2018

We chose Seven Kings Park in the Borough of Redbridge as the venue, because we have put a full suite of new facilities into that park. So we needed to wait for all that work to be completed ahead of a full media launch.

The day had finally arrived.  I needed to go into the city afterwards and also needed to get Dumbo (my car) in for service:

Dumbo – a pint-sized Chelsea tractor…more like a Chelsea tricycle really

Coincidentally, taking Dumbo in for service often seems to coincide with cricket-related days:

A Middlesex Second XI v Lancashire Second XI match report (from 2016)

But I digress.

Point is, I went to the gym, drove out west to the house, then to drop Dumbo at the garage and then commuted to Newbury Park…which I imagined might take a heck of a lot longer than it did take. So I got to Newbury Park ludicrously early.

On emerging from the station, I started fiddling with my map-app to work out what to do next; a non-trivial matter in getting from Newbury Park to Seven Kings Park. A pair of suited and booted people, one male, one female, had also emerged and were carefully studying a large (A3) colour map. I guessed that they might be visiting dignitaries on the way to the same event, so I asked them where they were going.

“Regal House” said the man, turning the map one way up and then the other in bemusement. “Can’t make out one end of this road from another.”

I glanced at his upside down map and noticed “Regal House” clearly marked on the map, about 300 yards to our right just along the main road.

“You need to go that way”, I said, pointing, “I think it’s just past that building, there”.

Some 45 years after earning my cub scout map reading badge, the skills are still coming in handy.

Buoyed by my success and the fact that I had already done one good deed for the day, I got my head around the map-app and strode towards Seven Kings Park, arriving a mere, Dicky Bird-like, 45 minutes early.

I wasn’t the first Trustee to arrive; Chris Swadkin had made an even more cautious time allowance for his journey from Kent.

The new Seven Kings Park nets

There had been a distinctly autumnal (indeed, even misty/mizzly/drizzly) feel to the early part of the day, but the sun started to show its face and then came  out full glow just in time for our joyous launch.

Soon there was a melange of cricketers, dignitaries, media folk and a small army of schoolchildren for the launch. Ed Griffiths doesn’t organise things by halves.

The speeches were brief, to the point and note perfect. In particular, Jas Athwal, the head of Redbridge Council, spoke with great passion about growing up in that neighbourhood and playing in the Park. His hope is that these facilities help inspire youngsters to play and love cricket as he does. Jas recorded a version of his message in a short video later in the morning:

Jas’s reminiscences of playing in that park as a kid reminded me a little of my own, albeit on the other side of London and albeit Jas did not go into details about the players he tried to emulate…

Back When I Didn’t Know My Asif From My Sarfraz, Cricket On Tooting Bec Common, Summer 1974

…actually, now I come to think about it, Jas did mention his heroes. In particular, Jas mentioned Bishen Bedi. I remember trying to emulate Bedi too, in the summer of 1974. I could manage the loop but not the spin and certainly not the inch-perfect accuracy. But I digress.

Leshia Hawkins, who heads up the ECB’s participation and growth team for London, spoke from the heart about the initiative and how helpful it has been for the four London-based counties (Essex, Kent, Middlesex and Surrey) to come together, with the ECB, to progress community cricket in this way.

Forhad Hussain (the Essex Trustee) spoke briefly on behalf of us Trustees, emphasising the collaborative nature of the initiative, while Dawid Malan said a few kind words on behalf of the county players who had turned out to help make the day special.

Since I started drafting this piece, there is now an official London Cricket Trust short video about the launch, which I have embedded below:

Somehow I have found my way into both videos, albeit very briefly. 15 seconds of fame; perhaps less.

When the players, most of the coaches and kids gathered at one end of the new non-turf pitch for the press shoot, we were left with a fairly large gaggle of schoolkids and one coach at the other end, so I took on the wicket-keeping duties.

I tried to crouch, catch and stump like Alan Knott…

…although I probably looked more like a clumsy git trying to do the policemen’s dance in When The Foeman Bares His Steel…

…not least because I was wearing one of my smartest lounge suits rather than cricket clobber.

Still, I was taking the ball surprisingly well and was only denied several stumpings by an over-zealous ECB official (who shall remain nameless) consistently shaking her head rather than raising the finger at square leg. Does she not realise that those schoolkids were not there to gain encouragement, nor were they to enjoy themselves at cricket; surely they were there to have their characters built in the school of hard knocks that only cricket at its cruellest can provide?

Personally, I got completely lost in the fun of actually playing cricket; when I eventually looked around I realised that the dignitaries, cricketers, media folk and my fellow trustees had all gone, leaving just me, the coaches, the kids and the teachers.

I was five minutes late for the Trustees meeting we had scheduled to take place in the pavilion after the launch. Not my style, to be late for such a transparently frivolous reason, but I think I might have been forgiven in these special circumstances.

We’ve had plenty of media coverage with still more promised (at the time of writing, less than a week after the event).

This search term – click here – should find most of the media coverage.

Ed Griffiths has produced an early stage media review – click here – it takes a while to load.

Our most prized bit of media so far comes in the form of social media – specifically a retweet by AB de Villiers to his six-million-plus followers:

It’s hard to express what a special day this was. I can hardly wait until we can do some more of these launches. We’ll be putting in dozens of facilities across London over the next couple of years, so I’ll be putting my hand up and no doubt going to quite a few.

Another Day, Another Guinness World Record Broken, Goodenough College, 8 October 2018

I am no stranger personally to breaking Guinness World Records, as explained and illustrated in the following piece…

Ultimate Love and Happy Tories, Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 3 March 2017

…and (perhaps less plausibly) I did claim another world record as a child, along with Paul Deacon, recorded for all posterity in my diary. This earlier claim has caused some controversy amongst the Alleyn’s School alumni:

Breaking The World Record For Coin Catching With Paul Deacon, Woodfield Avenue, 30 December 1974

So, when my business partner, Michael Mainelli, announced that, in his capacity as Master of the World Traders, he had decreed that the Guiness World Record for the most nationalities simultaneously singing a pop song was to be broken on his watch, I thought I should lend my considerable experience of world-record breaking to the enterprise. Especially as part of the purpose was to raise some money for charity.

Michael, looking masterfully iconoclastic

The world-record attempt was to be made in conjunction with Goodenough College (a wise and practical move given the size of the college’s hall and its international residency characteristics).

The extant record is (was) 72 nationalities, which doesn’t sound difficult to beat until you try. 

My attempts to coerce some of the rarer nationalities to Bloomsbury on the promise of refreshments and a chance to be a record breaker had very limited success.

However, I did turn up myself in my capacity as an Estonian E-Resident as well as a UK national. Whether my E-Residency will count or not is in the hands of the official authenticators. It is on a short list of “others” which might or might not count. But we believe we have kicked the extant record deep into touch even if none of the “others” are accepted. .. (Update: the e-residency didn’t count – but my attendance still counts of course). 

Yo!

The first part of the evening was a bit like trying to get through immigration at Heathrow after our beloved Prime Minister has had her bureaucratic way with Brexit. Everyone needed to register, have their nationality documents copied, witnessed, verified…

…only then could you complete the maze and enter the large hall where the sing-along took place.

…but without the chairs

Even then, we were all put through a further confirming, counting and segmenting into bite-sized zones to enable stewards and witnesses to confirm that we were all singing. We had over 200 people singing, representing up to 87 nationalities (including the three or four odd-bods like me) – well north of the previous record of 72.

But, despite the bureaucracy, it proved to be a great fun evening. There were lots of people I know there and I got to meet some new people too.

The choir-mistress got us to do some excellent warming up exercises to ensure that our minds, bodies and lungs were all to be working at full pelt when we went for the record.

Warming Up – photo borrowed from the World Traders Tweet

I was at the far end of the room – you can probably see three or four pixels of me in the above photo.

Then we practiced by singing “I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing”. I remember, even as a small child, finding that song cheesy. Yet it still turns out to be even cheesier than I remembered it:

https://youtu.be/8jr9hPbYmBo

Then we warmed up some more with Mamma Mia – another cheesy song but one with more communal fun singing characteristics:

https://youtu.be/LO3bos8WVD0

But the actual world-record attempt song was Imagine, which we practiced once and then sang in full, even repeating the third verse to make absolutely sure that we exceeded three minutes, a required factor for our record it seems:

https://youtu.be/VOgFZfRVaww

Actually, when we performed Imagine the second time – i.e. for the formal record-breaking attempt, it was a very moving experience. I think we all felt a sense of international cameradie and in the end we linked arms and swayed to the rhythm of our singing.

After the record attempt, the choir-mistress led us in another Mamma Mia to let off steam.

Then drinks. Plenty of them.

There were rumours on the night that a commercial enterprise was going to trying to break the very same record the next night. Indeed they sent some spies who tried to recruit singers from our event, which felt a bit sleazy to me. Anyway, word is, that those chancers only reached the 72 previously achieved and that our record should be confirmed.

We should learn quickly if/that our effort has been confirmed as a new world record. We ‘re quietly confident. I’ll update this posting once we know. Until then, you’ll have to imagine.

Update: the world record was confirmed and extolled some three week’s later while Janie and I were in Japan meditating atop a holy mountain.

Japan Day Ten: Journey To Koyasan And Cemetery Walk, 29 October 2018
WORLD RECORD FOR WORLD TRADERS

Yo!

Middlesex End Of Season Bash, Lord’s Nursery Pavilion, 5 October 2018

This event just seems to get better and better each year.

I started my end of season day at Lord’s, as in recent previous years, with a game of real tennis ahead of the lunch.

My task was to play against a relative newbie, to whom I gave a massive handicap – he started each game on 30 while I started on owe 15. That is quite a challenge for a clumsy clot like me who can make racket errors at the drop of a bandanna. I was pleased to achieve a one-set-all draw on that basis.

Mick Hunt, the Lord’s groundsman who is retiring this autumn, brought a couple of visitors into the dedans for a while to watch us play. I told him that I could have done with him leaving a bit more grass on the surface, as I am more experienced at lawn tennis than real tennis. I think he got the joke.

Then to the Middlesex drinks reception. The sun seems destined to shine on this event of late; it was a glorious day yet again and Lord’s looked a picture from the top of the Mound Stand.

I ran into Leshia Hawkins from the ECB, who has played a major part in the birth of the London Cricket Trust, which we launched yesterday:

Formal Launch Of the London Cricket Trust, Seven Kings Park, 4 October 2018

Leshia greeted me warmly before informing me that I might expect an ECB disciplinary warning for my conduct breaches on the field of play during the launch…well really!

Daisy (Janie), who had been around for a while, soon found me, as did Escamillo Escapillo & PD. Soon after that, we were summoned for lunch.

Always a good meal and always pleasant company at table, this event.

Lots of awards – David Fulton hosting the event.

As well as awards, there are some raffles and games.

The higher and lower game. Is Leshia hedging her bets there or still making up her mind? We might need to get the anti-corruption unit to have a look at that.

I asked Escamillo Escapillo what signal he would give from square leg if a nipper had wandered out of their crease and the wicket-keeper had stumped the nipper at lightening speed

I got nowhere with the higher and lower game, but I did apply my skills, knowledge and experience to filling in my raffle ticket accurately and legibly. So, when my card came out of the hat, I won half a case of wine. 95% luck, 5% skill, just don’t try it without the skill.

Geoff Miller speaks wittily about his career, using only a cricket bat as a prop

Geoff’s cricket bat-wielding oratory brought to mind the “Ian’s Cricket Bat” scene from the movie Spinal tap:

…but I digress.

Where were we? Oh yes, awards and speeches.

James Harris (great name) got several awards this year, including “the big ones”

Mike O’Farrell, our Middlesex Chairman, always speaks well and from the heart

After the formal proceedings had ended, Janie and I chatted for some while with Chris Goldie, Escamillo Escapillo and PD, before the sun started to set and we realise that we had, once again, enjoyed an especially long end of season lunch.

A Few Very Pleasant Evenings, 28 September, 2 October and 4 October 2018

28 September 2018 – Dinner With Deni, Tony, John & Kathleen

Early evening was my last game of real tennis at The Queen’s Club in my capacity as an MCC refugee:

Photo of me at Queens (from a different day) with opponents cut/airbrushed out

A fierce battle, it was, with a gentleman way above my pay grade, but through the wonders of the handicapping system we had a close fought match, which ended as a draw.

I thought 20 minutes would be more than enough time to get a couple of miles down the road to Deni & Tony’s house, but I hadn’t counted on the Friday night traffic combining with an accident nearby.

Yet, I arrived at the same time as Daisy, coming from the opposite direction and we really weren’t that late.

Plenty of time for drinks and nibbles before dinner.

Deni had gone to town in the kitchen, with a gazpacho soup and a salmon dish as the main. Desert was their favourite; profiteroles – it happens to be one of Daisy’s favourites too.

Tucking in good and proper

Lots of lively discussion too, trying to put the world to rights. John’s moderate views were somewhat tempered by his opinion that the only feasible route back to sensible, moderate politics might be barricades and politicians up against the wall and shot.

Everyone was on good form despite it being Friday evening and we were all surprised when the Cinderella hour struck and we said our goodbyes.

2 October 2018 Jamming Session & Dinner With DJ

Coincidentally I played real tennis (now back at Lord’s) before my next evening out; a jamming session with DJ at DJ’s place.

As I had all my tennis gear in tow as well, I decided to forego the electric instrument (which had sort-of been the plan), taking my baroq-ulele instead.

Electric-ulele – not selected for this match in the end

We tried amplifying the baroq-ulele for a while, which sounded rather interesting actually. We also mucked around with the strange assortment of songs I’ve been working on; then mucked around with a few of our favourites.

We still cannot decide which of us is ground control and which of us is Major Tom. It shouldn’t be that complicated, but it certainly is.

As always, we had a good chat and ate some good food too. An interesting bottle of Croatian red wine too – that worked wonders on my vocal chords.

4 October 2018 – Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner

It’s been a while since we had an Ivan Shakespeare dinner – this one had been rescheduled more often than a routine visit by a British Gas engineer. But at least an Ivan Shakespeare dinner is pleasant and worth the effort.

Actually not much effort for me. Jasmine had suggested we try Bill’s in Kensington, which, frankly, is a hugely convenient option for at least two of us; me and Jasmine. In truth, many of us are starting to find Cafe Rogues tedious, in terms of the food (ordinary), the service (poor) and the tedious, Byzantine rules for Christmas gatherings.

A great turnout this time, a dozen of us, including some new-old faces, such as Emma, Nelson, Neil and Sam. Plus many of the usual suspects. I mostly got to chat with Jonny Hurst, Barry Grossman, Mark Keagan and Nelson at my end of the table.

What, no quiz?

For sure the food and service was better at Bill’s. The traditional “food half an hour later than everyone else’s” game for baiting Jonny Hurst is clearly just a Cafe Rouge Holborn thing; not a standard entertainment in all restaurants. Who knew?

John Random made an executive decision that the traditional quiz would not quite work with the ambiance – we were in a very central table position.

We are all keenly awaiting Graham Robertson’s “would I lie to you?” game, but we’re starting to think that he has sold our stories for megabucks to television syndicates in the Stans and has now fled the country with his ill-gotten gains. We don’t care, we’re having a great time at these dinners without Graham and his game anyway.

Seriously, I always enjoy these gatherings and others must also do so because so many of us have been coming back for more, several times a year, since not long after the turn of the century.

Roll on the next one.

Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, Philip Ralph’s Programme Note: “Dissent – Who Do You Choose To Be?”, 27 September 2018

The morning after I saw the Actor’s Workshop revival of Casablanca the Musical…

A Visit To Halifax To See A Revival Of Casablanca The Musical & The Ward Family, 26 September 2018

…I read the programme and was especially taken by Philip Ralph’s essay of dissent. It seemed so relevant to our troubled times. So much so that I wanted to provide space for those thoughts as a guest piece on Ogblog, if Philip was willing.

Philip indeed kindly sent me the notes with permission to present them here (thank you, Philip), together with the following message:

Mike Ward forwarded your request to use my essay from the programme for Casablanca in your blog. I’m happy to oblige. It’s attached.

I should say, for full disclosure, that the phrase ‘Who Do We Choose to Be?’ and the ideas explored in the piece are not my own but are lovingly stolen from my teacher, Margaret Wheatley, whose work, ideas and teachings I wholeheartedly recommend to you. The moment in the film seemed an entirely apposite example of what she explores and describes in her work.

https://margaretwheatley.com/books-products/books/who-do-we-choose-to-be/

So here is a link to Philip Ralph’s essay.

The following embedded YouTube is the short section of the film Casablanca to which Philip refers in his essay. It is one of the more memorable scenes from the film and I took great pleasure in revisiting it, while also having my thoughts well and truly provoked by Philip’s excellent essay:

A Visit To Halifax To See A Revival Of Casablanca The Musical & The Ward Family, 26 September 2018

Your lyrics live on, Ian; we are reviving Casablanca The Musical at The Workshop in the last week of September…

Out of the blue, I received a letter from Mike Ward in early September to the above effect. As it happened, I had a couple of clear days, the Wednesday and Thursday of that week.

I felt very much motivated to see a revival of that show; I had written the lyrics for several songs. Also, to all intents and  purposes, that show brought the house down at the old Actor’s Workshop in Halifax; the place was tragically razed a few weeks after Casablanca The Musical’s first production in 2001:

Casablanca The Musical by Magnolia Thunderpussy, Actor’s Workshop, 18 September 2001

It had been many years since my last visit to The Workshop in Halifax; I think my previous visit was soon after the new place opened, phoenix-like from the ashes of the old place – perhaps 2004.

Anyway, I picked up the phone and called Mike, only to learn that speaking on the telephone doesn’t work very well for Mike any more:

I’m wirtually deaf phonewise, but I think you said you would like to see the wevival of Casabwanca on the Wednesday. Wonderful.

I then remembered why the Rick character is styled, in Mike’s book for Casablanca The Musical, as Wick. I also remembered some only marginally successful attempts at familiarising Mike with the use of e-mail back in the day.

Old style correspondence by post followed, mixed with some e-mails via Richard Kemp, to make the arrangements for my visit.

It was a similar itinerary, I think, to my 2001 visit for the same show, except this time I took an AirBnB apartment in town rather than a night in the Imperial Crown.

I got to the Workshop around 16:00. Mike and Richard (especially the former) looked after me and gave me a guided tour. Whereas on my previous visit the new place looked spanking new but devoid of all the props and costumes that had been lovingly accumulated at the old place…

…now, the new place reminded me of the old place; chock-a-block with stuff that might come in handy for some production or another. Cast-offs from the RSC and some smaller regional theatre companies. All sorts. Ever a theatrical magpie, is Mike Ward.

Then to the house, where Lottie had prepared a most delicious meal of fish soup. Their daughter, Olivia, was there and would join us this evening for the show. I hadn’t seen Olivia since the early days of meeting Mike, through son Adam who briefly wrote for NewsRevue, in the mid 1990s. It was lovely to see Olivia again; of course it was lovely to see all of them again.

Lottie spoke very highly of the revival production, which she had seen when it opened, the night before. In fact, she talked it up so much I think she and Mike were a bit concerned that we might be disappointed after such a build up; but they needn’t have worried.

Mike departed ahead of me and Olivia, enabling us and Lottie to chat, eat and drink some more, before Olivia and I headed off to The Workshop.

I thought the show really was excellent. Better than I remembered it from the first time – perhaps because Mike had edited the book a little – perhaps other elements of the production were just slicker and tighter this time.

Any resemblance purely coincidental?

For sure, I thought the big numbers, such as La Cage Au Wick’s…

The cast performing La Cage Au Wick’s – starting the second half of the show suitably silly

…and the Ouagadougou Choo Choo…

Ouagadougou Choo Choo, Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, 27 July 2001

…worked especially well this time around, with more energy and poise, together with a musicality beyond my rememberings from 2001.

I was genuinely delighted and very impressed. Mike invited me to congratulate the cast backstage, which I gladly did. Several members of cast and crew stuck around to chat for quite some time after the show.

Lots of fun.

The morning after, I read the programme and was much taken with the “dissenting programme note” by Philip Ralph, which I commend to you:

Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, Philip Ralph’s Programme Note: “Dissent – Who Do You Choose To Be?”, 27 September 2018

Out With The Old, In With The New, Plus An Evocative Memory, 23 September 2018

With Janie’s encouragement, I did some comprehensive updating to my wardrobe (i.e. the contents thereof) at Solo Uomo after the lunchtime concert we attended at the Wigmore Hall on the Monday:

Trio Mediaeval, Wigmore Hall Lunchtime Concert, 17 September 2018

By the weekend, all the alterations were ready, so we ventured, on the Sunday, to Cavendish Square to collect the clobber, take it to the flat and clear out some of my old gear.

The items identified for the chop included, among many other things, a pink stripped shirt which was showing signs of wear and a pair of green corduroy trousers of seriously discernible vintage and wear. The charity shop seemed grateful for all.

Sartorially Antiquated?

Point is, I realised that those items, when combined with my purple Massimo Dutti jumper (not for the chop – there must be decades of use left in that garment)…

…were the very togs I wore on one of my last visits to see mum before she died – a visit that yielded one of my favourite anecdotes about that difficult time.

It was late December 2014. Mum had pretty much been unconscious throughout my previous couple of visits, including Christmas Day, when I visited together with Janie.

I was working at home between Christmas and New Year. One morning, I think the 28th or 29th December, when I called the hospital for my daily update, the nurse, rather surprisingly, said that mum seemed much better that morning and was sitting up and talking.

I asked if I could come and visit, despite the fact that it was not visiting hours, as she had been unconscious on my previous visits and I would like to catch a conscious phase if I could. The nurse asked how far away I was and, when i told her, said that I should set off straight away, to get there and have some time with mum ahead of the lunchtime rounds.

So I hurriedly threw on the purple jumper over my “schlock around working at home” pink shirt and green chords, then sped off in Dumbo towards St Georges.

When I got to the ward, mum was indeed sitting up and conscious. “Hello darling,” she said – immediate recognition although she had adopted terms like “darling” and “honey” about a year earlier, once the dementia had eaten away at her memory for names.

Then she looked me up and down, frowning.

“Oh dear, that jumper does not go with that shirt and those trousers. And couldn’t you even have brushed your hair before coming to see me? Oh dear.”

Yes, even on her death bed, with dementia ravaging her mind, my mum could still form a judgment on my appearance and dole out a tongue-lashing if she so desired.

It might sound strange, but it is one of my most abiding memories of mum; that exchange was quintessentially her.

A Couple Of Late Season Half-Days At Lord’s, Plus Queen’s And The LSE, 18 to 20 September 2018

A slightly strange chain of events and connections led to me being invited to give a video interview at the London School of Economics (LSE) for the LSE100 course, which is an interdisciplinary course for all undergraduates. The theme of the course this year is quite “Price of Fishy”.

Ahead of that 20 September interview, I thought I owed it to myself and to 1,600 new LSE undergraduates, to mug up a bit on The Price Of Fish – not least because it is a good few years since we last promoted it and longer still since we wrote it.

The interviewers also wanted to talk about predictive analytics and data visualisation. I felt on top of the stuff we’ve been doing lately on that topic, but also thought about the pitfalls of analytics and the graphical representation of statistics, which took my mind back to the wonderful little book How To Lie With Statistics, which I also decided to skim by way of revision.

And if you are going to skim-read books on sunny afternoons during the last home Middlesex match of the season, one might as well do that skimming at Lord’s.

Tuesday 18 September 2018

I got my other work bits and pieces out of the way, but at a slightly slower pace than I had intended, while keeping half an eye on the cricket score.

When I left home, Sam Robson was in the eighties. When I arrived at Lord’s he was on 96. I ran into Richard Goatley and Rob Lynch, who were in the Harris (no relation) Garden. They soon came and joined me in the Allen Stand gap to watch Sam clock up his first century for a while.

Feeling a bit sheepish about reading my own book in public, I decided to sit in the sort-of sun trap end of the Grandstand, where that stand meets the Compo, which is always very sparsely populated and does not seem to attract the usual suspects.

I wrote up this surreptitious Price Of Fish experience in a King Cricket stylee, which was eventually published by KC in February 2019 – click here for a link.

Just in case anything ever happens to King Cricket, I have scraped the piece to here.

By the time I had delved through those bits of The Price Of Fish that I needed to recall, it was getting very cold so I took sanctuary in the Pavilion Writing Room, where I chatted with a gentleman who looked mightily familiar to me although not in a Lord’s context. Turns out he lives around my way.

Wednesday 19 September 2018

I played tennis at The Queen’s Club that morning and had been asked to return that evening. The Lord’s tennis court is being refurbished this October so we have very kindly been granted real tennis refugee status at other nearby courts, including Queen’s.

I worked out that, between those real tennis gigs, I could get a few hours of cricket watching and book skimming done.

I felt a similar queasiness about being seen reading How To Lie With Statistics as I did about being seen reading my own book. Of course, I am drawing attention to the pitfalls and the ways that bad people might deliberately lie or mislead…not advocating the use of deceit, but that might take a bit of explaining.

My King Cricket piece on this reading day, published November 2018, can be found here.

If by chance anything ever happens to King Cricket, you can see a scrape of that piece here.

So I returned to the Grandstand/Compo corner and again saw/was seen by hardly anybody – certainly no-one I know.

Horrific traffic the last few hundred yards of the journey back to Queen’s, but I got there just in time…which is a little more than can be said for my opponent.

Thursday 20 September 2018

I did my LSE interview in the morning, which seemed to go well.

In fact I could have gone to Lord’s that afternoon for a while, as my afternoon client meeting had to be postponed. But it was well cold on the Thursday and in any case I could think of a zillion things I ought to get done with the unexpected few hours, so I went home and did those things instead, keeping at least one eye on the cricket score.

The match ended up looking like this – click here for scorecard and other resources.

Trio Mediaeval, Wigmore Hall Lunchtime Concert, 17 September 2018

I’m a big fan of this troupe. This is, I think, the third time we’ve seen them perform live, by which I mean we’ve seen them at least twice before…

…most recently at one of those late night concerts about three years ago…

Aquilonis, Trio Mediæval, Wigmore Hall Lates, 24 July 2015

…and before that a wonderful concert at the end of the last decade, at which I bought one of their CDs, Words Of The Angel, which we listen to quite often and which I thoroughly recommend:

Fragments – A Worcester Ladymass, Trio Mediæval, Wigmore Hall, 13 December 2009

But back to the here and now – this 2018 lunchtime concert. This is one of those BBC lunchtime jobbies, so we were in the extremely capable hands of Sara Mohr-Pietsch. Sara stewards these lunchtime concerts with such gentle, kind authority and efficiency, it makes one wonder whether she should be running the country. I suppose the country is a slightly tougher gig, but it could sure use some of the positive characteristics I have just described.

I have previously introduced Trio Mediæval as the Bananarama of mediaeval girl groups. Much like that 1980s pop trio, Trio Mediæval (a product of the 1990s as it happens) seems to have two stable members plus one newbie each time we see them.

The consistent pair are Anna Maria Friman (from Sweden) and Linn Andrea Fuglseth (from Norway), whereas the newbie this time was Jorunn Lovise Husan.

If Anna Maria and Linn Andrea were to pair up with a couple of Swedish blokes, I could start describing them as the Abba of mediaeval vocal music, which might be an even more marketing-friendly epithet. A thought for the girls to ponder, no doubt.

And thoughtful they are. They sing with smiles on their faces. They sing like people who absolutely know and love what they are doing. You sense that there is deep scholarship about mediaeval music in their work, yet also the willingness to adapt, experiment and make the music accessible to modern audiences.

This concert was a mixture of early English chants and motets, plus traditional folk songs from Norway and Sweden. It reads like an odd mix but actually worked very well. It has, each previous time, been a joy to attend their concerts and this one was certainly no exception.

Lulled into a blissful sense of security, Janie lulled me into a gentleman’s outfitters afterwards, helping me to spend far too much money upgrading my rather tired wardrobe. Anyone fancy some second hand jackets and trousers from the Bananarama and/or Abba era?

But I digress.

Here is a link to the Wigmore Hall resource for this concert.

If you want to listen to the whole concert and are hitting this page within 30 days of the broadcast, you are in luck. Here is a link to the BBC iPlayer recording.

If you have missed it or only want to here a snippet or two, here is some of the Worcester Ladymass material we heard:

…and here is a link to a Scandinavian folk song, although not one they sang at this concert:

Sunday Lunch At The Orange With Kim, Micky & DJ, 16 September 2018

Well ahead of time, DJ invited us to lunch at The Orange in Belgravia/Pimlico. We had been looking forward to the day for much of the summer.

We weren’t disappointed for sure. It is always good to see DJ, Kim & Micky. As it turned out, it was a beautiful late-summer’s day, sitting in a very airy, well-spaced restaurant upstairs.

None of us had eaten in the restaurant there before, although Micky had previously been to the pub. We were all most impressed by the food the wines and the service. Janie and I both majored on the Sunday roast beef with all the trimmings, as did DJ.

Kim and Micky furnished me with a thoughtful bespoke birthday card and gifts, one of which was a tee-shirt emblazoned with the same legend as the card:

DJ, Kim and Micky told us about the Dalmatian coast, which they had recently been exploring. We pondered the lack of Dalmatian dogs in Dalmatia and wondered whether a themed boutique hotel, Villa De Vil, might be a winner. I expect Dodie Smith’s estate might have a question or three to ask about that one.

We didn’t realise that there is a glorious upstairs terrace at the back of The Orange, acting as a sun trap in the late afternoon. But under the guidance of excellent, interesting and kind waiter Gareth, we took up residence out there for after dinner drinks and to carry on chatting.

On learning that there is no house guitar, we tried some a capella singing…very badly.

Gareth was not only a maestro at serving food & drink, he is also a selfie maestro. The photograph below, achieved without a selfie-stick, is clearly the act of an experienced, steady hand.

Gareth also took a few pictures in a more regular or old-fashioned style, with the photographer excluded. A couple of those are shown below.

Many hours passed. It got dark. Eventually (at 21:00), the terrace had to close for regulatory/licensing reasons. Janie and I decided to call it quits at that juncture, leaving DJ, Kim & Micky to have “one for the road” by relocating to the pub’s outdoor seating, by the road.

Special, memorable times with special friends.