After a morning’s work, I played tennis and then drove out to Noddyland for the rest of the afternoon. Janie went over to Kim’s to do some gardening or what-have-you, while I followed the Wimbledon tennis quite avidly:
Clarke & Dart v Murray & Azarenka (short and a bit disappointing);
Draper v Mejia (boys semi – absolutely compelling to watch);
Isner v Anderson (almost failed to resolve until after I left for the restaurant).
Meanwhile Janie called me to instruct the closing of windows about 5 minutes after I had closed all the windows. It was already bucketing down in “The Suburb” whereas in Noddyland it was just starting to look ominous.
In fact, I got to the Uber while it was still just spitting, but by the time we got 100 yards down the road it was proper rain and by the time we got to Gypsy Corner there were surface water flash floods starting.
Micky and Kim were on good form. Janie and I both ended up eating the same dishes; calamari followed by a veal and mash dish.
For afters, I fancied ice cream. The gelato of the day was nougat. I asked what type of nuts were in the nougat (due to my walnut allergy), which kicked off a precautionary sequence of events, even when I relented to a simple choice of vanilla and chocolate.
“Out ice cream might contain traces of nut”, I was told. I explained that my allergy is mild and that I have no concerns about “might contain traces of nut” warnings…
…at which point Kim told the waitress that she should get me to sign a disclaimer…
…which the waitress duly produced and indeed insisted that I should sign.
This was all done in a gentle and friendly spirit…
With thanks to the waitress for taking the picture
…but I’m pretty sure that I’d have had no pudding without the form filling. I considered explaining that I am very allergic to form filling…
…but in the end decided that I wanted my ice cream.
I think that covered the necessary waiver comprehensively.
Readers of a nervous disposition will be delighted to learn that I suffered no ill effects from eating the ice cream.
It was a fun evening with Kim and Micky. The staff at the restaurant are very charming and friendly, which more than makes up for the quirky aspects.
We thought we’d failed to get tickets in the Wimbledon ballot this year. Janie and I had heard from several people that they or their loved ones had secured something. Odds are that you miss out more often than not, so we thought that was that.
But I suppose that most of the seats that come up in the public ballot are week one seats and that Wimbledon send out the week two letters the following week.
So, a few days after we had agreed that 2018 had been a miss, Janie announced that an envelope had just arrived from Wimbledon and that she’d let me open it.
OMG, we’ve got centre court tickets for Ladies’ Semi-Finals Day.
Janie was so excited; in truth we were both very excited.
A few weeks later the tickets themselves came through and turned out to be very good ones – Row F; near to commentary boxes and the Royal Box – just over our right shoulders above us.
…but second Thursday felt almost like hitting the jackpot.
I took on picnic duties again (that kinda makes sense for midweek Wimbledon), producing smoked salmon in poppy-seed bagels and prosciutto muffins as the centre-pieces for centre court. A Single Estate Villa Maria Sauv Blanc and an Aussie “Daydream” Pinot Noir (the latter partly surviving for another day).
I studied the order of play carefully when it came through and suggested that we aim to get to Wimbledon early enough to catch a little bit of juniors action on one of the larger outer courts before the main event.
We plugged for Court 18, where a couple of girls with similar rankings, Xiyu Wang & Cori Gauff, were doing battle:
Surprisingly good quality tennis
Gauff, who looked like Venus Williams’s mini-me in style of play and demeanour, took the first set and was well up in the second, before Xiyu Wang started to turn the match around.
Thinking about the turn around
Don’t confuse Xiyu Wang with her doubles partner, Xinyu Wang. That would be foolish of you. Also don’t assume that they must be sisters. They were born about 6 months apart which made the “must be sisters” theory bite the dust, unless an awful lot of artificial intervention was involved. The Wang pair went on to win the girls doubles title, while Cori Gauff, who turned out to be only 14 years old, really is a rising star, so remember where you heard these names first.
At the end of the second set on Court 18, we decided it was time to freshen up and progress to centre court in good time for the first semi-final.
Janie’s choices of photographers from the crowd was somewhat flawed. The first lady had the shakes so much that her efforts were very blurry indeed. Then one person somehow pressed the video button for a few seconds rather than the simple shutter release. It sort-of looks like one of those Harry Potter photos:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmyJiZBh_IM
Younger people in the crowd wanted nothing to do with having people take pictures for them – it is all about selfies and selfie-sticks these days – so my offers reciprocally to take pictures were rejected.
We chatted with a very nice lady next to us, Carolyn, and her friend, Deana, who had come all the way from Yorkshire for the tennis. They helped Janie do some celebrity spotting in the neighbouring Royal Box.
Janie spotted Cliff enjoying the privacy of the Royal BoxWith you I am Bjorn again?Billie Jean – who is not my lover…
We enjoyed some snacks and a glass of wine.Why were we here? Oh yes, tennis. Here come some players:
Jelena Ostopenko and Angelique Kerber
Ostopenko came out all guns blazing, but that is not usually the way to best Kerber and so it proved that day:
Kerber kept her cool
We had time to eat our smoked salmon in poppy seed bagels during that match; just about.
Next up: Serena Williams against Julia Goerges. We’d never seen Serena play live before, although we have seen Venus more than once at Wimbledon.
Get ready……Julia got set, but took no sets……Serena powered her way through the match; Julia seemed overawed……thank you, ma’am.
A Wimbledon summary vid shows some glimpses here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaXv5f3_QiA
In truth the semi-finals had been short and one-sided, but there was plenty of entertainment to come. I went for a leg-stretching stroll at that juncture, having been assured by a steward that the mixed doubles was at least 20-25 minutes away. So I leg-stretched for that period of time, looking at one or two outer courts and chatting idly with one of the volunteer stewards there.
On my return, the mixed doubles quarter final had started. Mercifully Janie had taken some snaps of the players arriving and starting. It was a young British pair; Jay Clarke & Harriet Dart, taking on a far more experienced, seeded pair – Juan Sebastian Cabal and Abigail Spears. The thing is, though, that no-one seemed able to tell these youngsters that they weren’t supposed to beat the more experienced players.
Shhh…let’s try to win.
Jay’s entourage to the right – dad Errol just visible (and more audible)Heck, these kids can playSmiles even in defeat
A semi-final place – very promising signs from young Clarke and Dart. I was impressed especially by Clarke in the days and weeks leading up to our visit but on the day I was especially impressed by Dart, who looks a very natural doubles player. Jay Clarke might go on to excel at either singles or doubles or even both; at 19 he seems a very complete player already.
Towards the end of the mixed doubles, the seats vacated by a rather grumpy couple in front of us were taken up by a very friendly couple who had come from Bristol to see the Court One action and were thrilled to have managed to grab a couple of £10 end of day returns to get to see some action on the Centre Court.
All three fixtures so far had been quite short matches, so the authorities laid on some entertainment for us in the form of a bonus match; Gentlemen’s Invitation Doubles. The couple in front of us were thrilled to get to see an extra match; she described it as a dream come true.
Mark Philippoussis and Tommy Haas both still look well fitSebastian Grosjean and Fernando Gonzalez not so much
Many years ago some kids in the park mistook me for Sebastian Grosjean while I was playing with Janie. I had no beard in those days and Grosjean did sport a bandana in a similar style to mine if I recall correctly. Back then, the tennis comparison seemed absurd, but now, looking at a chunkier, less agile Grosjean, I’m not sure whether either of us should be flattered by that comparison.
Anyway, the guys played some fun tennis; mostly clowning around but some exhibition quality shots too, with the result never in doubt. Entertaining tennis was the winner.
Heck, we had a lovely day, as always when we go to Wimbledon. It wasn’t the most competitive day we have ever seen, nor was it one of the better days of this year’s championships, tournament-wise. But such a day at Wimbledon is very special indeed and we feel very lucky and privileged to have been able to enjoy it.
I turned up to play him in the morning. On arrival he greets me with the phrase:
I ran into someone who knows you the other day. Knows you from the gym or something. When real tennis came up in the conversation, he asked if I knew you.
But the really strange coincidence about that encounter was that, John told me, it was at Grace Road, Leicester, at a Cricket Society bash…
…do you mean day two of the Leicestershire v Middlesex match?…
John and I fought out a tough, some would say bitter, battle, which ended in a draw, once the nonagenarians, who were next on court, separated us combatants who, by that time, were (naturally) screaming, punching, wrestling and biting. It’s a gentleman’s game, real tennis. In fact, I stayed on for the nonagenarian doubles that day and almost managed to keep up with the oppo for an additional hour.
Later that day, once I had recovered from two hours of combat (and done a spot of work), Janie and I took dinner at Delamina in Marylebone, ahead of a rather unusual-looking late night concert at the Wigmore Hall.
We thought the food in Delamina was superb – I had a seriously posh kofta dish while Janie had a seriously posh take on turkey shawarma – but the place was very noisy on a Friday evening and the service, while admittedly delivered by universally sweet staff, was poor.
We stretched our legs and got a chance to have a conversation that we both could hear, by walking the long way round to the Wigmore Hall. While strolling, I told Janie about the strange coincidence that John Thirlwell (whom she had met at the Middlesex University Real Tennis match) had been in the next room to me all day at Leicester.
Before entering the concert hall itself, I popped to the Wigmore Hall loo. There I saw a gentleman who looked remarkably like John Thirlwell. No, he wasn’t a gentleman who looked a lot like John Thirlwell; it WAS John Thirlwell.
“This is bonkers”, I said, “you’re blooming everywhere” – to which John could only smile and agree. Thus Janie and I chatted with John and his charming companion Maggie before and briefly after the concert. John is not a Wigmore Hall regular – he had simply seen this concert listed and thought it looked interesting and different.
I often say that Lord’s and the Wigmore Hall are the last remaining places where I get addressed as “young man”. I wonder whether that sort of thing was the causal link for John Thirlwell visiting both places on the same day as me. Joking apart about fierce combat; it turns out that John is actually jolly good company, both on the tennis court (which I knew already) and also in the concert hall.
A collaboration much like the fusions in Delamina’s food, now I come to think of it.
Here is one of the pieces, from the latest David Orlowsky Trio album, which they played for us at the Wig:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrDBrUkv0Qw
Or try this tiddler, which the Wig used to promote the concert we attended:
We thought the music was wonderful fun; a mixture of smooth jazz and the sort of dance rhythms that central and eastern European music does so well, not least when klezmerised.
Janie and I sat next to an aficionado of the group who told us, sadly, that the trio is due to split soon after a mere 20 years together. Perhaps they feel it is time to pursue other projects. They are all virtuoso musicians; David Orlowsky himself utterly exceptional on the clarinet but really all three were excellent.
Quite a day; I hope John Thrilwell enjoyed his day as much as I enjoyed mine.
Occasionally something really rather special emerges as a result of Ogblog. One such emergence, some months ago, was an e-mail out of the blue from Jon Gorvett, a friend from Keele University, who had stumbled across Ogblog and thus reconnected with me and with Simon Jacobs.
Anyway, subsequently one thing led to another, Jon eventually acquiesced to grace Blighty with his presence, so we (including Jon’s good lady, Stefanie) arranged to meet up for a meal together.
We settled on 35 New Cavendish, which I recalled from my previous visit with Janie, Chris & Charlotte, was pretty quiet. I thought our reunion would benefit from us being able to hear each other, which it did. The food is good at 35 New Cavendish, without being exceptional; the service is passable; the location worked well for all of us.
Thank you, Mr Waiter – top photographic work. L-R: Stefanie, Ian, Simon & JonQuestion for advanced students: identify Jon, Simon and Ian from this 1982 visual
The years seemed to peel away rapidly and easily. Lots has happened to all of us (and to the world) in the 30+ years since we last gathered, but it felt like a natural and familiar get together, despite the magnitude of that time interval. I certainly sensed that none of us have changed our world view or re-oriented our moral compasses.
As Simon said in a subsequent e-mail:
Inevitably, there was a sense of only scratching the surface as it’s an impossible task to meaningfully fill in the blanks of 30 plus years in an evening. But you’ve got to start somewhere.
Simon also expressed concern for Stefanie in all this:
I do hope Stefanie wasn’t too bored or bewildered… She didn’t appear to be, but then I’m not really in a position to know whether she was just being monumentally polite. It was very nice to meet her!
I echo those sentiments.
On learning that many people have Ogblog monikers – for example, Simon is known as “Awesome Simo” – Jon and Stefanie expressed an interest in acquiring Ogblog monikers of their own. I did offer them the opportunity to apply with their own choices of names, but the only thing that has been forthcoming so far is this super picture (below) of Jon drinking a pint in the Sneyd Arms at Keele, a couple of days after our gathering.
Later that same week, Jon sent us this snap from the Sneyd
So Ale-jar Jon and Sneyd Steff it is, unless or until they supply more suitable nicknames of their own.
Coincidentally, The Sneyd Arms does seem to have become a magnet recently for those nostalgia visits and photos amongst my old friends. Ashley Fletcher sent me this just a few months ago:
But I digress.
It was a very enjoyable evening at 35 New Cavendish with Jon, Simon and Stefanie. I very much hope, as Simon suggests, that we get a chance to do more than just scratch the surface of renewed acquaintance in the near future.
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.
In fact, Janie and I were talking through a few ideas during the spring, but events intervened somewhat. John’s mum has been in hospital since April – indeed John had to cancel one of our midweek dinners because of that crisis – so Janie wondered whether they would prefer simply to come to Noddyland for dinner this time; making timings (and even the possibility of a last minute need to cancel) less of a stress.
John and Mandy jumped at the idea.
We reckoned that these two had not tasted Janie’s signature fillet of beef with wasabi mayonnaise, so we opted for that. My job…
…apart from making sure during the event that the beef is cooked to near perfect timing such that lovers of rare and well cooked beef alike get their wishes…
…was simply to get to the Ealing-ish part of town early enough to procure/collect the ordered joint of beef and then get to Noddyland in good time. Normally no problem on a Friday but one or two work matters tried hard to slow my departure from Cityland that afternoon.
But I managed to break free and get to Hook & Cleaver in reasonable time, where Jack sorted me out good & proper with a choice cut.
You don’t mess with these Hook & Cleaver Guys
The weather was set glorious, as it had been for several weeks, which made the dinner at Noddyland idea all the more suitable. We were able to spend most of the evening out of doors, retiring to the dining room only for the main course – which really was a magnificent joint of beef – and afters. The dessert comprised summer berries with some papaya mixed in, the health benefits of which John expounded upon with glee.
The earlier part of the evening was not only blessed with exceptionally good weather, but also with delicious breaded prawn tempura from Atari-Ya up the road together with some tasty wines. No-one was drinking all that much – John & Mandy needed to drive home that night in the circumstances and in any event on a hot evening quality rather than quantity was the order of the day.
It was a lovely opportunity simply to catch up with good friends, relax for an evening and enjoy good food and wine together in the homeliest of home environments. We can do something trendy and/or exciting up town next time…if we so choose.
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.
Janie and I were fascinated by the descriptive rubric about this play, so booked to see it as soon as the tickets went on sale, as oft we do for the Hampstead Downstairs.
A few weeks before our booking, I got a message from Dot to say that “they” would be in England the weekend of 23/24 June and wondered if I could recommend a show for them to see and/or it would be nice to meet up. In the event, there were still tickets for this play available and Dot seemed keen to join us.
“They” turned out to be Dot (who came to Z/Yen from the USA as a summer intern a few years ago, recruited by me while I was experimenting with recreational on-line poker using my first ever smart phone – that is certainly an Ogblog story for another day)…
…plus her beau Randy. Randy came to England on this occasion primarily for work purposes, whereas Dot was in transit, on her way to watch some football World Cup live in Russia.
Anyway, it made a change for me and Janie to go to the theatre with some other people – it is years since we last did that. Dot and Randy made excellent company too, bringing a different perspective to the themes raised in the play and indeed interesting perspectives on the current geopolitical maelstrom on both sides of the Atlantic pond.
Before the show, we had a chance encounter with Ollie Goodwin, who was also at the Hampstead but he was watching the upstairs show…so it proved to be a brief encounter. Still, always good to see Ollie.
In those days (2015) the Downstairs studio eschewed official reviews, but the Hampstead’s policy has changed, so you will find official and unofficial reviews through this link – click here. The official reviews are good but not rave reviews, whereas some of the unofficial noise is unequivocally complimentary. My take on it is that the play has its flaws, not least the rapidity of the scene changes and the amount of walking on/walking off that goes on in short scenes, but that the flaws do not detract from the drama, tension and fine acting within the piece. This production is well worth seeing.
It’s not ideally suited for the very squeamish – it is mostly set in a post mortem lab – but I was able to cope with it which means that most people should be OK – the grizzly bits were mostly done with sound rather than visuals. I glanced at one grizzly point to see if our entourage looked OK and assessed that Randy might be as squeamish as me, whereas Janie and Dot were lapping it up. Indeed the two girls looked as though they might, had they lived in late 18th century Paris, have sat in the front row of the guillotine execution sessions, knitting.
After the show, Janie, Dot, Randy and I went to Fora in St John’s Wood for a very tasty Turkish meal and a chance to chat about the issues some more. Randy generously picked up the tab at Fora – he can visit again 😉 – so Janie insisted on dropping the young couple back at the Hotel Intercontinental, bringing a most enjoyable evening to an end. Yes, come to think of it, both of them most certainly can visit again.
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.
I don’t really have the words to describe how excited Janie was about this exhibition, ever since the V&A pre-announced it about a year ago. Then, when we learnt that we could see a preview of the exhibition and take in a talk by the curators of the exhibition that day, we booked out the Friday afternoon and Janie got even more excited about it.
So perhaps in some ways the afternoon was destined to be an anti-climax for us.
We chose to book our timed tickets to view the exhibition after the talk. We got to the V&A early enough to have a lite bite there before the talk.
The new members’ cafe was heaving with people and a queue, so we went instead to the new public cafe at the new Exhibition Road entrance, which did not have a queue and did have outdoor seating available – a bonus on a glorious sunny June afternoon.
Then to the talk. Here is a link to the V&A resource for the talk. It was a bit folksy and disorganised, as V&A talks tend to be, but in this instance it seemed especially so. The curators, Claire Wilcox and Circe Henestrosa seemed unfamiliar with the microphones, making it hard to hear them at times. Circe in particular moved around a lot, which is fine, but surely the V&A has clip-on mics for roving speakers – I’m sure I’ve seen those used there before.
Frida Kahlo is such an interesting character; the intersection between her life, her personal tragedies and her art work is a fascinating topic. It was intriguing to learn, for example that her photographer father, Guillermo Kahlo, took so many self portraits – he might be seen as the founding father of the modern selfie craze.
In the context of Frida’s work, though, given that so many of her pictures were self-portraits, it seemed an insightful point about her father and his work.
Yet much of the complexity and confusion between the truth about Frida Kahlo and the cultural icon she has become (to some extent through her own design, to some extent through cultural appropriation) was glossed over in the talk.
The central conceit of the exhibition is that it is displaying a large selection of Frida Kahlo’s personal artefacts, which were kept locked away at La Casa Azul for fifty years after her death. The reason for this lengthy secretion was not well explained by the curators. Diego Rivera’s will stipulated that they should remain unseen for 15 years after his death, but they were not uncovered for a further 30.
We tried but didn’t get a chance to ask that question during question time, whereas a Mexican woman with verbal diarrhoea was allowed to waffle on for five or ten minutes raising about half-a-dozen obscure points without pausing for breath or answers from the curators.
In truth, the Wikipedia entries for Frida Kahlo and for La Casa Azul explain matters better than the talk. I guess the truth of the matter is quite mundane. The cult of Frida Kahlo didn’t really get going until after the 2002 movie “Frida” – which Janie and I loved at the time btw. So although La Casa Azul became a museum immediately after Diego Rivera’s death, it was a very low key (and probably low budget) one until this century.
Frida’s tribute in profile
Never mind – then on to the exhibition itself.
At the entrance they hadn’t yet differentiated between those who had acquired timed entry tickets and members who had just turned up, so everyone had to join the same lengthy queue. Unaware of this, we walked past the queue and walked up to the ticket dude who we imagined to be our timed ticket dude.
“We have timed tickets”, I said.
“Certainly”, he said, scanning the tickets. We then realised that he was actually the entrance for the Ocean Liners exhibition, so how our tickets scanned for that goodness only knows.
He tried to get us in to the Frida Kahlo, but we were sent to the back of the queue, there to wonder whether our tickets would now scan for Frida Kahlo having been scanned for Ocean Liners.
Somehow we got in. Perhaps those scanners merely go “bleep” without really doing anything.
It was pretty crowded in the exhibition and we found some of the preview members rather too pushy and elbowy for our taste. I’m not sure that members’ preview days at the V&A are such a good idea for us in future, unless we can find a less crazy-busy slot. In any case, the V&A should do something about the lighting of the Frida Kahlo show – some of the exhibits were hard to see and the explanatory rubric hard to read. Hopefully they put that right on the back of feedback from members like us.
Still, many of the exhibits are truly stunning and fascinating. Don’t let my rant about how disorganised the V&A can be put you off seeing the exhibition; it really is worth it. You get to see a lot of Frida Kahlo’s paintings as well as the artefacts and some superb films and photographs taken during her lifetime, providing a great deal of visual context to Frida Kahlo’s life and work.
But don’t ask about the leaflet that explains the artefacts and exhibits in each room, which we strove so hard to obtain but failed in the end to secure. Different members of staff told us that:
the leaflets had all run out (on preview day?),
they had simply run out of leaflets at the desk and they’d have some more for us shortly,
a leaflet would be brought to us once we were inside the exhibition (some hope, despite chasing),
the leaflets weren’t ready yet but would be available in a few days’ time,
there wasn’t to be a leaflet for this exhibition at all…
…I think staff are “trained” (to the extent that the word “training” applies in that place) to make up whatever comes into their heads at the time and say it kindly but with an authoritative tone to mollify the unsuspecting punter.
No doubt Rebecca, who promised to get back to us by e-mail with a definitive answer (and hopefully a copy of the leaflet) will come up trumps for us, if trumps there are to be had. While we were engaging Rebecca in this task, one of the elbowy blue-rinse members elbowed me away from the corner of the members information desk (upon which I was merely leaning to support my aching back) without a please or a thank you. I don’t approve of manspreading, but femshoving of that kind is even more overtly aggressive.
It’s a shame, really, but by the end we couldn’t wait to get out of the V&A that day. Yes, the Frida Kahlo is a fascinating exhibition, but the place seemed so disorganised and we just felt the V&A could have done better with this one.
Janie consults Frida on how to curate herself…that IS Frida’s type of question
