Everything that needs to be said about that day, and more, is covered in that piece.
Middlesex CCC AGM 17 May
I was there. I played real tennis at Lord’s beforehand and then hung around for a bit ahead of the AGM. It was a meeting with drinks afterwards.
Middlesex v Durham 19 & 20 May
I barely saw any cricket before and after playing tennis on 19th, but I did see a bit.
The plan had been to take Fran & Simon as guests on 20th, but the weather was decidedly iffy, so we delayed that visit until July. Instead, I got stuff done at the flat in the morning and sauntered over to Lord’s to watch a few hours play as the weather cleared in the afternoon.
Before setting off I got a message from Madz, who is now part-timing as a photographer for Durham CCC, wondering whether I planned to be at the game that afternoon.
We agreed to meet beneath Old Father Time, her favourite vantage point for the photos. Also the favourite vantage point for travelling Durham supporters, who were, by the time I got there, making serious headway with their preferred brews. I’m not certain that they were all drinking Newkie Brown, but it felt and sounded like that sort of crowd.
It was good to catch up with Madz.
At one point, the soon-to-be-new-England-wunderkind Matty Potts came on as 12th man for Durham (being rested ahead of the test match) and fielded for a few balls in front of our stand.
I caught this picture on my smart phone as he came our way:
Matty Potts A Few Days Before Stardom
I was pleased with that photo. Madz wondered whether she could have done better with her Nikon and infeasibly long lens.
Did you get one of those, pet?
…asked one of the Durham stalwarts, as a few of them took a passing interest in my snap.
I missed it, unfortunately,
said Madz.
You’re only here for one thing, pet,
said the stalwart, inducing much laughter from the Durham crowd and also from Madz, who clearly knows those fellas well enough and was able to enjoy the joke.
I sent the snap to King Cricket, who agreed that it was the best picture of Matty Potts he’d seen so far and wondered if he might use it, which of course I said he could and he did on 1 June (naturally crediting me…i.e. Ged Ladd) and also 2 June:
Actually the story of this one starts a few weeks earlier; the Friday of the Lord’s test between England and Australia. 16 August. A rather wet day as it turned out.
Charley “The Gent” Malloy was my guest that day; our last visit to the Compton Stand prior to its demolition. In fact we got less than two hours of cricket before the rain came…then came and went for a while…then the rain came and made sure that those of us who had stuck it out for a while knew that it was time to go home.
In our rush to flee the mid August rain, Charley’s old faithful Heavy Rollers cap ended up in my bag.
We corresponded on the matter and I promised to put the cap in my “Lord’s bag” ahead of our next meeting; this 10 September date.
But come the morning of 10 September:
I was rushing around like a mad thing getting the picnic ready;
Life had intervened on countless matters to make “Charley’s cap” a little lower on my memory list than certain other things;
The weather forecast said that the day would be cloudy and possibly even a bit nippy.
So when the time came to load up the bags, I thought I could safely offload stuff I wouldn’t need, such as sun screen, sun glasses and what on earth did I need three caps for…one Middlesex cap might even be one to many but I’d retain just that one.
In short, I clean forgot that the Heavy Rollers cap in the bag was Chas’s, promised for return.
To add insult to injury, the morning turned out to be a gloriously sunny one, quite contrary to the weather forecast, rendering several of the rejected items desired items and naturally inducing Chas to enquire about his cap quite early in the day.
Neither of us bathed ourselves in glory during the ensuing post mortem.
Chas was bowling metaphorical googlies at me while I tried to maintain order
Chas was convinced that I was only teasing him and that I really did have the cap with me. I tried to get Chas to share the blame for the mistake, by suggesting that, if it really mattered that much to him, Chas might have sent me a reminder…
…we declared a truce, ironically after seeing Tom Helm receive his county cap, ahead of a lunchtime perambulation on a glorious early autumn day.
Chas, uncapped
Chas’s disposition continued to improve in the Warner, after perambulation, as we tucked in to the picnic of Alaskan salmon bagels, London sour sandwiches containing chicken with elderberry, lovage and lemon stuffing and a bottle of rather juicy Gewurtztraminer.
Middlesex bowled well to extinguish Durham for a modest score and then batted poorly to end the day behind the game.
I did offer Chas the opportunity to stop off at Clanricarde Gardens to collect his precious cap on the way home, which in many ways makes sense from Chas’s ease of journey home point of view. So that’s what we did at the end of a really enjoyable day at the cricket.
Next day selfie with old-style Heavy Rollers cap…MY Heavy Rollers cap
Anyway, fear not. I got a message from Durham fanatic Madz, otherwise known as 668, also otherwise known as Blackbird…wondering if I’d be around in the pavilion on Thursday for the climax of this match. She was planning on meeting up with some of the Durham regulars there.
As it happened, my meetings/scheduled calls all concertinaed into Wednesday enabling me to do that.
I assumed that Madz stands for Madeleine and thought that she might be amused by eponymous cakes as a peace offering. Which, in a way, she was.
Anyway, it took until just before lunch for Madz to find her way to the pavilion by which time I’d made almost no headway with my reading as I’d been chatting with a fine fellow in the writing room.
By the time I found Madz, she was sitting with a gentleman named Pelham who seemed astonished that I’d head of Pelham Humfrey as well as Pelham Warner. Even more astonished when I said that I’d witnessed some Pelham Humfrey recently:
Madz quizzed me about the nicknames Ged and Daisy for me and Janie, suggesting that it was all a bit confusing. I omitted to mention that Madz or do I mean 668 or do I mean Blackbird has (or at least had) plenty of on-line names of her own.
We half-agreed to regroup for the denouement after lunch, but by the time I’d taken some sun and finished reading my papers for tomorrow’s meeting, Middlesex had fallen apart yet again and crashed to defeat.
I walked home in glorious sunshine to find England in a relatively good position in the Oval test match…until they too collapsed before my eyes losing five wickets for diddly-squat on a flatty.
Perhaps I should give up watching my teams play cricket…until tomorrow.
The first Ashes Test, it was. The match started on a Thursday this year (it was a Wednesday start last year), so I put my name down for just the first two days of the test.
On the Wednesday, I went up early so that I might have a two-hour music lesson with Ian Pittaway. I normally have my lessons with him by Skype; just occasionally having a face-to-face lesson.
On Skype, Ian looks like this:
…but this time, in real life, he looked more like this…
…so much so that I thought I’d gone to the wrong door at first.
Anyway, it was a good lesson and I was also able to cement some of the tips and techniques we discussed as I had more time than I find at home, while up at Edgbaston, to practice .
On to the Eaton Hotel, where a late lunchtime snack was to prove a problematic ask, so I wandered off to the local TGIF for a starter, a coffee and some reading.
This year we have been joined by Peter and Matthew – family friends of Nigel and Viv from Australia. Really good company, well-humoured guys, they seemed to slip seamlessly into the somewhat quirky group that is The Heavy Rollers. Only Harish absented himself from the Wednesday evening feast – he was coming up to Edgbaston on the morning of the match.
I arranged to meet the lads at their hotel, the Plough and Harrow, at 9:30 with a view to walking with Peter and Matthew to the ground.
Day One: 1 August 2019
I enjoyed a delicious and efficiently-served breakfast of kippers at The Eaton, then wandered down to the Plough and Harrow to find an irritable table of Rollers and Guest-Rollers awaiting their breakfast. They had been waiting for nigh-on an hour when I arrived.
Slowly and not altogether surely, one-by-one, their breakfasts arrived. Mercifully, Peter and Matthew were among the first to be served,so we were able to skedaddle around five-to ten, arriving at the ground and getting through security just in time to witness the toss.
The others, arriving by car, were also in reasonable time for the cricket though not the toss. We spent a great deal of time wondering how difficult it can possibly be for a hotel kitchen to churn out breakfasts at some sort of reasonable pace.
Jimmy Anderson was not able to do anything at reasonable pace that morning either – after four tidy overs he went off, never to be seen bowling again – at least, never in that match.
The other England bowlers set about their enhanced roles well; at one point having the Aussies 8 down for not much more than 120. Then Smith and Siddle went about staging a match-turning recovery. I blame Charles, who said he likes Siddle because he plays for Essex and that he wanted to see Siddle score a few. Turncoat. (Charley, I mean, not Siddle).
The picnic was a Dot “Mrs Malloy” special, with enough sandwiches to feed a small army and a great deal of non-perishable food which came in very handy on the Friday (and no doubt beyond).
Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub Me, Matthew, Peter, Chas, Nick & Harish
For reasons known only to himself, Nigel stood aside when a kindly bloke behind us offered to take our photo at stumps that day.
Matthew, Peter and I walked back; I parted company with them at St George’s Church to save a bit of time, as we had agreed to all meet in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of jars.
Over those jars, it transpired that Peter and his good lady had taken their honeymoon in Vanuatu, so we spent some time swapping Vanuatu trivia stories over drinks, which was better than another hot topic – bemoaning British and Australian politics.
Day Two: Friday 2 August 2019
I enjoyed an English breakfast, efficiently and effectively served, checked out of the The Eaton and walked to the ground alone today. I discovered all of the others in their seats around 10:40. No doubt they had gone down to breakfast in the Plough and Harrow at 6:30 in the morning or some such.
Our seats, directly opposite in The Raglan Stand, offer an excellent view of the shenanigans from an ideal distance. Several strolls all around the ground, including the back of the Hollies, reinforced my view that my ideal spectator experience is the very opposite of the Eric Hollies.
I did offer Peter and Matthew an opportunity to choose their own Ogblog pseudonyms, but, like most people, they were foolish enough to leave that matter up to me. Hence “Papa Pete Blong Vila” and “Boe Blong Pete” were born. More on them and all of us should appear on King Cricket, eventually.
Dumbo (my car) rode like the wind, but had to do so the long way round due to a closure on the M40. Thank goodness for the sat nav, which turned me round and sent me through Birmingham and the M6 South at the very start of my journey, otherwise the extra 20-25 minutes that the detour entailed might have been an extra hour plus in traffic jams.
Well played, Dumbo
I thought I’d left England in a good position at stumps on Day two, which I had. But in my absence it all unravelled in the next two-three days. Only Australians, neutrals or mentally strong England fans should click here for the scorecard and cricinfo resources on this match.
The very first ball of the very first test match between England and Ireland
23 July 2019 – the day before the inaugural test match between England and Ireland. I had arranged to play real tennis at Lord’s that afternoon, but got the call to see if I could play “senior gentleman’s doubles” at noon. This was not especially convenient for me, given my chosen 16:00 slot for singles, but I acquiesced to play “if they were desperate”. I got the call at about half-ten.
As it turned out, the main senior gentleman had got his dates mixed up and wasn’t there, so I ended up playing a not-quite-so-senior gentleman’s singles. I played rather well, perhaps spurred on by the presence of two of the Ireland test cricketers; Kevin O’Brien and Andrew Balbirnie, who took a great deal of interest in the game and watched for a good 20 minutes or so.
Returning to Lord’s for my 16:00 session, I realised that playing two hours of singles on a very hot day was not ideal, but it went fine. Coincidentally, as I arrived at the ground Kevin O’Brien was leaving Lord’s. I leaned out of the car window:
“Don’t you want to watch some more tennis?”
“You’re back for more?”
“Yup, I must be mad”.
24 July 2019– Day One of the test. Dominic and I had been talking about finding a day to go to Lord’s with Janie and Pamela for a county match, but as I had tickets for this match, it seemed a good idea to use this Ireland test for our gathering.
Janie took this picture of me, Dominic and Pamela
I brought smoked salmon bagels and Dominic brought a superb selection of cheeses from La Fromagerie. Dominic was one of two people who sent me messages, within a few minutes of each other on the preceding Sunday, wondering about brie cheese given the weather forecast for very hot weather. The other brie-enquirer was Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett.
It was indeed a blisteringly hot day, especially as the sun came out full pelt in the afternoon, making my excellent Mound Stand seats a little over-exposed. Fortunately, we managed to find our way to a clutch of newly-shady seats in the Warner mid-afternoon. It’s not what you know…
Janie took this picture of the cricket
By that time, England had long-since been rolled for diddly-squat and Ireland looked to be in the ascendancy.
Still, it was a most enjoyable day of cricket-watching, eating and chatting.
25 July 2019 – Day Two of the test.
Hazy – but even hotter than the previous day
The weather was set to be even hotter. I knew I’d need to get to Lord’s pretty early to secure shady seats in the Warner. So I did that.
My guests for Day Two were Charles “Charley the Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks. On the water front, I brought a spare refillable flask but in fact Chas brought one for each of them, along with the picnic, which Dot “Mrs Malloy” very kindly made up for us all.
We’d agreed in advance that we’d have an alcohol-free day given the extreme heat. I suspect that bar takings were much lower than the MCC had hoped for too. Despite that, the St John’s Ambulance people were kept busy that day – it really was a scorcher – a record July day apparently.
The cricket was good – England set a fairly modest but probably defensible score ending the day nine-down, which meant that there was to be cricket on Day Three. Hurrah. Mostly thanks to an unexpectedly dogged night-watchman job by Jack Leach for England.
25 July 2019 – Day Three of the test. The original plan had been for Chas and Nigel to join me on Day Three as well, but circumstances intervened and they both dropped out several weeks ahead of the match.
In the end, for reasons far too dull to explain, I ended up with three guest tickets to dispense, which ended up in the capable hands of Simon “Awesome Simo” Jacobs, Bobbie “Báirbre” Scully and Pamela (see Day One). Dominic was also going to join us once he had escaped from the Tower of London.
The weather was less than special first thing, so my early morning mission to secure good seats on Day Three comprised finding a similar level of cover as was required for the shade the day before, but also in a position that would avoid any squalls of rain. Again, success.
I took plenty of reading matter as I guessed that none of my guests would be turning up early.
Pamela, who lives nearby, texted in to say that she was going to wait until the showers passed (smart move).
Simon was slightly delayed, but not as delayed as the start of play, so he got to see the first ball…
…which was also the entirety of the remainder of the England innings.
But before that, I had already received a text from Bobbie. I have previously described Bobbie’s timekeeping, which, traditionally was based on leaving Place A for an appointment at Place B at roughly the appointed time to be at Place B. This works fine if Place A and Place B are very close to each other; less fine if they are some distance apart.
…but for the Ireland Test Match she reverted to type. At 10:57, three whole minutes before the test match was due to start, I received this text from Bobbie:
Right, I am leaving [home] now – somewhat behind planned schedule (you will not be surprised to hear)…
Actually, with the rain delay, innings break and then another rain delay very early in the Ireland innings, Bobbie and Pamela (both of whom arrived around 12:15/12:30) only missed about eight balls and no runs. Just the one wicket.
…in fact, the cricketing side of things was done and dusted just over an hour later.
That’s not enough time to get through a whole picnic.
It wasn’t even enough time for Bobbie to get through her cricketing anecdote. It turned out that this wasn’t Bobbie’s first experience of international cricket; it was her second. The tale of her first, from 1977, is such a good anecdote it deserves its own Ogblog piece. Perhaps Bobbie will write it as a guest piece or perhaps I’ll have to ghost write it.
The stewards allowed us and the assembled masses to continue our picnics and convivialities for some time, although the arrival of the marching bagpipe band to “entertain” us seemed like an excellent way for the considerate host that is the MCC to make everyone feel that they remain welcome while driving all but the sturdiest (and/or deafest) away.
Simon decided to depart quite swiftly. Dominic joined us briefly before going off to change for his game of realers. Pamela, Bobbie and I watched Dominic play real tennis in the absence of any real Irish folk playing cricket.
After that, Bobbie and I retired to The Bridge (home to the Canal Cafe Theatre) for a more comprehensive catch up.
A most agreeable end to a convivial and sporting week.
Unusually this year, the first Lord’s County Championship match of the season didn’t work out for me and Charles “Charley the Gent Malloy” Bartlett to have our traditional early season meet, but this second match did, so we arranged to spend Day Two of the match together.
A Cunning Plan: Tuesday 14 May 2019
Actually I was able to attend for the latter part of the first day. My cunning plan was to get my work out of the way, drive over to St John’s Wood Road around 15:00 – it is almost always possible to find a Ringo parking place at that hour, drop off my tennis kit ahead of tomorrow, get some reading done and watch some cricket in the sunshine.
The cunning plan worked.
I briefly popped in to the pavilion and chatted for a brief while with Colin, before going in search of some warmth in the spring sunshine of the Mound Stand.
Barmy Kev joined me briefly in the Mound Stand that afternoon before going off to speak with more important folk than me:
Borrowed from Barmy Kev’s Facebook posting – Click the picture to see that posting.
As I left Lord’s that evening, I ran into John Lee from the Leicestershire committee, who was on his way to try to find his hotel on Sussex Gardens, so I was able to give him a lift there and have a chat along the way.
A Great Day Although The Picnic Partially Went Pear-Shaped: Wednesday 15 May 2019
I rose early to prepare the picnic and set off for Lord’s soon after 8:00 in order to play tennis at 9:00. I used the rucksack that DJ kindly gave me last year, as that is an ample size for a picnic for two…
…except that I didn’t think about relative softness and hardness of items in the various compartments and planted a bag containing Chas’s pears (Green Williams) towards the bottom of the rucksack.
Other Species Of Pears And Bagels From A Previous Visit To Lord’s
Charley’s fussiness about his pears is a matter of some legend and a yet unpublished piece that should appear on King Cricket at some point in the next few years.
Infuriatingly, I had procured and ripened the bag of pears to perfection for this visit, but they got badly bruised in the rucksack. Message to self: put pears in a protective fruit box next time.
Chas threatened to go public about my pear preparation going pear-shaped, but I decided that the best way to prevent the risk of blackmail was to come clean myself. Now Chas will have to decide how to deal with the other side of the “mutually assured destruction” information unholy bargain we had with each other. It could get as messy as that bag of bruised pears.
Anyway, I played quite a good game of tennis (won) and spotted, as soon as I got off court, that Chas had messaged me to say that he was in the vicinity ridiculously early. I suggested that he make haste to the gate where I could get him into the ground with his voucher before I showered and changed. This ploy worked well.
In the morning, we braved the traditional back/backside ache of the pavilion benches. John Freer from the visiting Leicestershire group spotted us on those benches and came out for a pleasant chat. Peter Moore also chatted with us for a while. Chas and I didn’t get around to the picnic (apart from nibbling some cashews) until we got around to the Mound Stand in the afternoon.
Apart from the pear debacle, the picnic was a great success. Poppy-seed bagels with Alaskan smoked salmon, Prosciutto and Parmesan cheese sandwiches on sourdough, a fruity Riesling and several sweet treats – the latter arranged by Chas.
There were some large school groups sitting quite close to us – very well behaved but autograph hunting like crazy – especially from Nick Gubbins who was fielding down our way and patiently worked his way through a long queue.
At one point in the afternoon Dawid Malan (out injured) wandered around the outfield and stopped to chat with us briefly. Some of the junior autograph hunters asked him who he was and/but seemed minimally impressed that he was the Captain of the team. Only some sought his autograph; still Dawid handled the matter with great dignity and willingness to please the junior crowd.
As always, the day just flew by and it seemed like a blink of an eye after meeting that Chas and I were parting company again.
I watched tennis for a few minutes to let the crowd and traffic die down before Ubering home.
A Random Ramble Around Lord’s: Thursday 16 May 2019
When arranging that visit, I mentioned in passing that Middlesex were playing at Lord’s that day and that I could show John around the place properly if he was interested. His previous visit had been to watch tennis only:
Anyway, John said he would really enjoy that, so after the concert we legged it to Lord’s, where John reckoned he could spare 90 minutes to two hours before heading back to do some work.
I gave John an informal tour of the pavilion, which I think he really enjoyed, stopping most of the way through the tour to take some refreshment and watch some cricket on the sun deck, at Janie’s favourite spot under one of the turrets.
While chomping and drinking coffee there, John informed me that, although he had no pedigree in cricket whatsoever, his grandfather, Hector Ireland, had been a leading light in Widnes Cricket Club in days of yore, to such an extent that a bar in the club is named the Hector Ireland Room:
I explained to John that, while I like to pretend that the Harris Garden at Lord’s is named after my grandfather, the truth of the matter is that I have no cricket in my ancestry at all, so I felt that John’s so-called remote cricketing pedigree was trumping mine big time.
We completed our informal tour in time for John to get away in a timely fashion, I hope.
After saying goodbye to John, I then returned to the pavilion to join the Leicestershire visitors in the Committee Room. John and Penny Freer were in there, as was John Lee and also new Chairman Roy Bent, together with a smattering of Middlesex hosting folk.
Postscript To John Random’s VISIT To LORD’S
In August 2021 John visited Widnes CC and reported the event to me with the following charming words and photographs:
…I finally managed my pilgrimage to the Hector Ireland Lounge of the Widnes Cricket Club, Hector Ireland being – as I think you know – my grandfather; as opposed to the one [George Corke] who had a honeymoon in London and Paris. That was a generation earlier. I was so proud and happy to see his name memorialized on the plaques and his photo still above the bar. I was shown such a warm welcome by men who knew him even though he died fully fifty years ago. I even watched some cricket.
The Match Was Poised, But…: Friday 17 May 2019
I returned to Lord’s again early that morning; a long-planned appointment with the tennis court. In fact, I ended up being press-ganged into playing two hours, from 9:00 to 11:00, which is a bit of a mad idea for playing singles at my age, but there you go.
John Lee had threatened to come and watch me play real tennis for a while before the cricket started and saw through that threat. Afterwards, he reported that he had been baffled by the tennis at first, then after a while decided that he understood it, then after a few more minutes realised that he hadn’t understood it.
Meanwhile, I played quite well that morning and then, after changing, joined the small remaining group in the Committee Room for the rest of the morning session. A few overs had been lost to bad light but the forecast was hopeful for the rest of the day.
Nevertheless, I realised that I needed to get some work out of the way to relieve the pressure from the first half of next week, so went home at lunch, resolving to return for the lasts session of the match.
Sadly, the drizzle started as I arrived back at Lord’s around 16:00 and that last session was much curtailed, turning an interestingly poised match into a draw. David Morgan joined us for a while during that stop-start session.
It was probably Leicestershire who had the most reason to feel aggrieved by the rain, although a couple of quick wickets would have turned the match back Middlesex’s way. Infuriating that a poised match ends that way, but that’s cricket.
It was nevertheless very enjoyable company with which to pass the time at the end a few days of cricket intermingled with work and other activities.
31 July 2018 – The Day I Forgot That I Hadn’t Forgotten The Tickets
The plan was to have a quiet morning finishing off work bits before setting off towards Birmingham for three nights and three days of Heavy Roller cricketing joy…
…but we all know what tends to happen to that sort of plan.
So I ran around like crazy that morning, fitting in two client meetings, getting my packing done and shovelling down some lunch. Still I managed to leave home at a reasonable hour to avoid the traffic and get to Brum in time to shower, change and join up with the lads.
As I drove past the Warwick junction of the M40, I had a horrible brain flash. The utter conviction I had, earlier in the day, that Chas has the tickets this year, morphed into a distinct memory of Chas handing me an Essex CCC ticket wallet.
“But that must have been my Chelmsford ticket,” I thought, until my memory distinctly remembered the sight of Edgbaston tickets in an Essex ticket wallet. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I had been an idiot not looking in my ticket draw when packing…even though, in truth, I could not recall seeing those tickets in that draw in my recent ticket trawls for Lord’s matches and the like.
I remember you…not
I decided that I simply needed to fess up to Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett on arrival and we’d work out how I might get replacement tickets issued. I cannot be the first “gentleman with waning powers of memory” to travel to an Edgbaston test without his tickets, so there must be some sort of reissuing procedure and I knew Chas would have his ticket records with him.
I called Chas on arrival – he and The Boy Malloy had just gone down to the bar to meet Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks. Chas’s immediate reaction was that he had all the tickets in his care, including mine, as is usually the case…
…then he went on the same memory journey as I had travelled…he did remember handing me an Essex wallet and he did remember separating out tickets for me, for some reason…
…anyway, by the time I had showered and got to the Plough And Harrow Bar to join the lads, Chas had checked the ticket situation and discovered that he had them all.
We then both realised that the memory flash of Chas giving me my tickets in advance was from last year, when Daisy and I travelled up the night before and had pre-arranged to join the others at the ground for the start of the West Indies day/nighter:
Did the lads give me a ribbing for sort of forgetting my tickets…or rather for forgetting that I hadn’t forgotten my tickets?
Yes.
I tried to counter-rib by suggesting that they had forgotten to book Colbeh, stymieing our dinner plans, but that didn’t work. In fact, it is just as well that I saw Azlan from Colbeh as I walked past, as he said he was pretty full that night so I did genuinely make a booking that might just have saved our evening plans. Chapeau to Azlan for remembering my name from last year and the year before.
Anyway, this year’s pre-match dinner at Colbeh comprised me, Chas and Nigel. The Boy Malloy had arranged to meet up with a friend at the Birmingham Cosy Club, the name of which drew a similar “oo er missus” type reaction from Chas and Nigel to that of the burghers of Leicestershire CCC, when I announced a similar meet up in Leicester a few weeks ago:
The Colbeh Three (as Chas, Nigel and I should now be known) had a superb meal again this season at Colbeh. It is a joy to see how well that place is doing, Nigel and I having been early customers there a couple of years ago when it first opened. I think the food might still be getting better and better. When I got home, Daisy asked me if I had thanked Azlan for recommending the book The Saffron Tales to her, from which she has taken much pleasure and adapted several recipes. I admitted I hadn’t…
…until now. Thanks, Azlan.
Match Day One – On Making The Most Of Plenty: Copious Mrs Malloy Sandwiches c/w England’s Run Scoring
After a hearty breakfast based on kippers, I chose to walk directly from my digs at the Eaton Hotel to the ground. It is a lovely 45 minute walk across Edgbaston.
Ticket scanning and security is so well organised at Edgbaston these days; I was in the ground around 10:30 and heard the toss as I was entering the stand.
I was the first of our group to arrive, but there were quite a few people already seated in our block. Then a young man came along and sat in one of our seats. I said, “excuse me, that cannot be your seat”.
“Yes it is”, exclaimed the young man, “look!” He showed me his ticket. Block 06, Row A, Seat 5.
“You should be in Block 6”, I said, “this is Block 7”.
“No it isn’t”, said a few people seated around me, “this is Block 6”. I really was starting to worry about waning powers now, but turned around and saw, clearly on the wall behind me, the big “7” sign that indicates Block 7.
“It really is Block 7”, I said. “See the sign…”
…then one or two other people chimed in, “of course this is Block 7”.
But for some reason, perhaps an errant steward, perhaps group-think amongst several unconnected parties of people, 15 to 20 people got up and relocated to the real Block 6.
I had a good chortle with a few of the real Block 7 residents about that one.
Then I took the photograph below.
Before The Start On Day One
Then I started to wonder whether the others were ever going to show up; they are usually so keen to get to the ground in good time. Eventually show up they did; slightly frazzled/later than intended. Something about a wrong turn.
Heavy laden, they were, with a picnic fit for Heavy Rollers. Mrs Malloy had gone wild with the sandwiches this year: corned beef with mustard and smoked ham ones for the meat eaters, quorn chicken for the veggies, cheese for everyone and egg mayonnaise for everyone other than me.
Mrs Malloy had also gone wild with her gold-ink sandwich-pack labelling pen, to symbolise the impending golden anniversary of the Malloys.
We ascertained that Those Were The Days by Mary Hopkin was number one in the charts when the Malloys hitched; likewise when Harsha Ghoble was born. Very apt.
…but I digress again.
While we tucked in to the picnic for several hours, England seemed to be tucking in to the Indian bowling quite nicely too.
They say that history doesn’t repeat itself but it does rhyme. In a strange echo of the Charley The Gent run out from 2004, Joe Root was run out, while attempting a second run, by Virat Kohli, soon after tea. That incident and the rest of the day one highlights can be seen on this short reel:
Meanwhile, as England’s fortunes rapidly declined, Charley The Gent was insisting that we finish all the sandwiches today, withholding snacks and sweetmeats for the remaining days. “I have to be able to report to her that all the sandwiches went”, said Charley.
They all went. We were stuffed. We did not eat that evening. We simply met in the Plough and Harrow bar for a couple of glasses. We concluded that, although Charley hadn’t thrown away any sandwiches, England might well have thrown away the match in that last session.
Match Day Two – More On History Not Repeating Itself But Rhyming
After breakfast (I went full English today after last night’s dietary abstinence), again I walked to the ground directly from my hotel.
…which mentions a particular address in Edgbaston, Fairlawn on Westbourne Road, as the home of Pelota, an early form of lawn tennis that most resembled the version that took hold and was possibly the first of that kind.
Fairlawn Or Forelorn?
No longer is there a commemorative plaque and I wasn’t expecting late 20th century modern build flats either; I was expecting a somewhat distressed-looking Victorian villa, much like some of the neighbouring houses, which are mostly used as low key residential care homes or sheltered housing these days. Oh well; I’ve seen it now.
The lads arrived in good time today – no wrong turn.
Charley was a little sheepish; he’d been ticked off by Mrs Malloy for force-feeding us with infeasible quantities of sandwiches. She hadn’t honestly expected us to get through them all, she just wanted each of us to have plenty of choice.
“Can’t win”, said Charley, presumably in the matter of pleasing Mrs Malloy but perhaps he was thinking about the cricket match too.
We snacked while India seemed to establish their innings, until Sam Curran had other ideas and the match swung back to England until Kohli and the tail had yet other ideas…you get the idea.
It all reminded me a little of a couple of the excellent matches I have seen recently between Middlesex and Warwickshire; one at Edgbaston last year…
…with there respective missuses, sitting right at the front of the block before the walkway we needed to use to get out of our Raglan Stand. The others must have walked past them obliviously several times. I stopped and chatted with the Tufties a while and alerted the other Rollers (especially Charley) on my return, enabling him to join the Tufties for a while later in the day.
…bit the dust when The Boy Malloy announced that he doesn’t like Indian food and a search to discover whether Mr Idly has other options revealed very poor recent reviews.
I did some extensive research and due diligence (didn’t these guys used to pay me to do this sort of thing, albeit on slightly bigger and more important procurement matters?) to uncover El Borracho De Oro (subsequently defunked) within spitting distance of the Plough & Harrow. With some difficulty, I managed to book it on-line so we were sorted.
While I was concentrating on all that, England’s fortunes slid again and by the end of Day two we were, one again, convinced that India had the edge.
Here is the ECB short highlights reel from that day:
El Borracho De Oro proved to be a good choice for dinner; the only shortcoming being the music noise. Also for future reference, the portion sizes were a little smaller than we expected so we possibly should have ordered more tapas – we’ll know for next time. It was very reasonably priced for its quality.
Apart from Charley disappearing back to the hotel to sort out an errant duplicate payment that wasn’t and Harsha disappearing to pick up on some work malarkey, it was a very cohesive, convivial and enjoyable evening.
Day Three – A Wonderful Day Of Test Cricket Leaving The Match Finely In The Balance
Back to the kippers for breakfast today, then I left my electricals and Benjy The Baritone Ukulele in the safe hands of Roberto at the Eaton before walking, for the last time this trip, to the ground.
Again the lads were in good time; indeed they got to the ground ahead of me this time. All except for Harsha, who had to deal with his business crisis before coming to the ground. I thought that might be the last we’d see of him, but in fact he turned up about 10 minutes into the day’s play. After a short committee meeting, we decided that he could participate in that day’s prediction game anyway, despite the additional inside knowledge that 10 minutes of play provides.
It didn’t help Harsha.
In fact, I was the biggest winner of the day; actually I showed positive on each of the three days – that might be a first.
Again the match tilted one way and then the other. Despair before lunch as England collapsed. Some respite after lunch as Curran tried to get England to a defensible score. Then joy as India collapsed. Then an impending sense of doom as India recovered somewhat late in the day, leaving the match perilously poised at the end of the day – probably just tilting in India’s favour.
Here is the ECB short highlights reel for Day three:
Chas kindly dropped me at my hotel to help speed me on my way – Daisy had invited some people over for dinner, although they all knew I would be back late. So we said our fond Heavy Roller farewells in the Eaton Hotel car park.
The Epilogue
It took me just under two hours to get back to Noddyland, where the dinner with Deni and Tony was only just underway, so I could shower and catch up with starters before joining the group for the main meal. Daisy has some pictures and I’ll report that separately.
London was sweltering – far hotter/muggier than Brum.
The next morning, Daisy and I did battle on the tennis court first thing. I gave it 120% and needed to do so in order to overcome a very keen Daisy. She felt that she ought to be able to beat me after I had sat around for three days watching cricket, eating and drinking. But I’m made of stern stuff.
As soon as we got home, just before the cricket started, Daisy kindly offered to do my washing from the trip, including the tennis kit in which I had just played. “Just pile it in front of the washing machine, ” she said.
When she came to the pile, she exclaimed, “urgh, what the hell is this? This is disgusting. What have you done?”
I wondered what on earth was the matter. I stepped in to find her holding my recently-worn briefs at arms length. “Have you wet yourself or something?”, she asked.
“No, I’ve just played an hour of rigorous tennis against you in sweltering heat, that’s all. You don’t normally do my washing and you certainly don’t normally see my sweaty undies before they have dried off a bit.”
“I don’t sweat like that”, said Daisy. I wondered whether to offer a short biology lesson but decided against.
Then we watched the cricket match pan out. If I gave the tennis 120%, then Ben Stokes must have given England 150%.
“I wonder whether Ben Stokes gets GBH of the earhole from his missus in the matter of his sweaty briefs”, I thought to myself, before deciding that “GBH of the earhole” was an unfortunate phrase in Ben Stokes’s context.
Just thought this bit of writing captured much of our experiences over our collective cricket-watching years
Chas responded:
The writer’s piece was wonderful and it made my emotions bubble up again! I believe he was absolutely spot on with the analysis of Stokes bowling, the brilliance, the commitment and the ‘gut renching’ dedication to win, no matter of the pain his body was suffering – because it was for the team – definitely some comparison to Freddie!
My major disappointment was not being there on Saturday to see and witness this fabulous and emotional win by England!!
Here is the ECB short highlights reel for the final day; those 90 minutes I witnessed on the TV rather than live:
It had not been my plan personally to spend three days on the trot at Lord’s for this test match.
The plans, hatched many, many moons before, revolved around a request from Charles “Charley the Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks for me to assist those two in a mission to spend three days together at the Lord’s test.
The plans were:
Thursday – I would join Chas and Nigel;
Friday – just Chas and Nigel;
Saturday – Daisy and I would both join Chas and Nigel.
The logistics of implementing those plans to the point that we had tickets to enable all that were complex, onerous and uninteresting to the casual reader. Still, the plans were all in place…
…but we all know what can happen to plans…
…and Nigel’s knee decided to muck up the plans by rendering Nigel unable to attend Lord’s. Here’s wishing Nigel a rapid and speedy recovery.
The logistics of reworking the plans to the point that we were not dumped with unwanted tickets were complex and uninteresting to the casual reader. Hats off to the MCC ticket office for helping to minimise the onerousness of it.
But the upshot was that I agreed to join Charles on the Friday, so he could avoid being “Charley No Mates” that day.
Hence three days on a row for me.
Day One: Thursday 24 May
I went to the gym early and then got to Lord’s really early to avoid the crush and to observe the real tennis for a good few minutes before taking up my seat. I had learned that Mr Johnny Friendly was to be playing at doubles that morning; I wanted to observe his technique now that I play.
When I got to my Upper Compton Stand seat, about 10 minutes before the start of play, I observed that Chas had not yet arrived and that a well-built gentleman was sitting in the seat that would have been Nigel’s.
Chas arrived some 15-20 minutes after the start of play, bemoaning the length of the queues for security at that hour at Lord’s…as if he’s never been before.
“How come I’m sitting next to the big bloke?” asked Chas, in a voice that sounded, to me, loud enough for said big bloke to hear. Soon enough, though, we were both in conversation with Liam Big Bloke, who turned out to be a really pleasant young man, well-versed in matters cricket and also in matters food – he is a trainee chef working for Sat Bains in Nottingham’s only two-star Michelin restaurant.
At one point in the conversation, Chas talked up Daisy’s cooking ability in glowing terms. “Really good homely cooking,” I interjected, “not two-star Michelin style”. “I understand”, said Liam gently; I’m quite sure he did.
In fact, everyone in our immediate vicinity on our row seemed very nice. A very friendly couple to my right; the woman, Marilyn, said, “excuse me, young man” to me, on the first occasion she wanted to leave her seat. I told her that I am thus addressed all-too rarely these days, even at Lord’s and the Wigmore Hall. She seemed to find that funny but found different appellations for me each time for the rest of the day.
I wish I could speak highly of other people around us, but sadly the group of young men behind us were very loud, very drunk from very early in the day and really quite a nuisance. My back was soaked in lager at about 11:30 – anyone can have an accident, but I really didn’t appreciate them finding the incident funny and needing to be told to apologise and to try and sort out the mess.
By the end of the day, that group was singing raucous Barmy Army songs and trying (without success) to start a Mexican wave in the crowd. It’s the first time at Lord’s that I have really felt stuck in front of an unpleasant crew all day. At least the rapidly drunken posh boys in 2014 only managed to stick the first session.
In front of us was a very grumpy couple, the man of which wanted to read his book in the quiet and seemed as pissed off with our row for being gently convivial as he was with the raucous row behind us for being raucous. The woman of the couple left early.
Still, the day had its compensations, not least one of Mrs Malloy’s splendid picnics, complete with personalised notes in ornate gold-coloured calligraphy describing our sandwiches in mouth-watering detail. The centrepiece of one being corned beef, the centrepiece of the other being smoked cheese. I brought a bottle of wine, an Austrian Grüner Veltliner since you asked, which we had agreed would be enough for the two of us that day. I also brought arm-extending quantities of liquid and fruit, as promised, but Chas had forgotten that promise so also brought heavy quantities of liquid.
…Mike Archer, Trevor Cooper and Geoff Young. It was really nice to see them – it had been a while – we chatted behind the Compo stand for a while before going our separate ways.
I walked home.
Day Two: Friday 25 May
Same morning routine as the previous day – early gym, cab to the ground, virtually queue-free passage through security, followed by 30 to 40 minutes of observation from the dedans of Mr Johnny Friendly and others at real tennis doubles.
Seats at the front of the Lower Compton for today. Chas was already in his seat when I got there, chatting with the two gentlemen who were to be our neighbours for the day; Michael and Peter. A pair of cricket fans who had known each other for years and whose sons – also keen young cricketers – had ended up at the same school.
After a few casual questions, we ascertained that Michael had grown up very near me, around Tooting Bec Common and that Michael had been very friendly with the Rich family from around the corner. Michael (and Steven Rich) are a few years younger than me, but I grew up with the older sister Gillian, who was my contemporary. What a small world it is.
That pair were really good company for most of the first two sessions, until Michael got called away to a family emergency just before tea and Peter agreed to collect their children from school.
…was at Lord’s that day, just above us, with his mother, Awesome Mummy. We had arranged to meet behind the Compton at tea, but with the unexpected departure of our neighbours, I texted Simon to suggest that the Awesome Duo join me and Chas in the front row of the Lower Compo for the final session, which they did, with predictably convivial results.
Chas and I had agreed that Friday would be a light picnic and dry day. Mrs Malloy had provided some mini pork pies, sausage rolls and nibbles just to ensure the absence of the wolf from the door.
During the final session, we nibbled at some sweetmeats and Awesome Mummy’s strawberries, although we lost a few of each to the delightfully friendly but increasingly clumsy passers-by on our row during the latter stages of the game.
Chas asked me, quietly and sensitively, whether he should offer the remainder of the porky snacks to either of the Awesome Duo. I suggested better not, unsure but suspecting that Awesome Mummy might not approve.
I had pre-warned Chas (and latterly the Awesome Duo) that I would need to leave before stumps, as Friday had not been part of my plan and I had a late night concert to get to at the Wigmore Hall.
So I personally upped sticks at six (about half-an-hour before the umpires did same) and walked home.
Day Three: Saturday 26 May
Due to the change of plans, Daisy very kindly took over picnic responsibilities and we thus switched our overnight location from the planned night at Cityland to Noddyland.
So a very early start, Daisy made up a splendid picnic and we set off for Lord’s early to secure good seats in the Warner. We timed our arrival to perfection.
Ground staff getting ready…
…Ged Ladd getting ready…
…Pakistan getting ready…only England seemed unready and unsteady
Chas arrived about 30 minutes after the start of play, by which time a very nice gentleman from Fulham had done a superb job of manspreading onto the seat we had saved for Chas. Mercifully we all managed to come out the other side of that etiquette-dilemma socially unscathed.
The wasabi mayonnaise had gone down so well last year, Janie used it with the turkey as well as with the beef. We took a bottle of white (Vouvrey) and a bottle of red (Jip Jip Rock Shiraz) but no option for a bottle of rose instead.
I got a message from Awesome Sue (Awesome Simo’s sister) wondering if we were at the ground, as she was there with her sister Ruth and daughter Lily. I knew that, of course, having spent best part of a session with Awesome Simo and Awesome Mummy yesterday. In fact I had intended to message Sue myself, but she beat me to it. So we agreed to meet up behind the Warner at tea. Which we did.
Chas, Awesome Ruth, Awesome Sue, Me
Only after Daisy had finished taking photos did we realise that Awesome Lily was temporarily absent from the shoot. That is a shame, not least because Lily is probably the only member of that family to have, in cricket terms, earned the moniker “Awesome”, having consistently taken five wicket hauls so far this season for Gloucestershire Under 15s et. al.
When I subsequently reflected that we had not taken any pictures of Lily, Chas instigated a conversation about The Who:
Anyway, it was really nice to catch up, albeit briefly, with Simon’s awesomely lovely family. We needed to keep the catch up brief, for fear that we might all miss the end of the match if we didn’t keep a watchful eye over the England cricketers for the next two hours or more.
For in truth, although we had a good time at Lord’s, as always, the England cricket team had a shocker pretty much from start to finish. In fact, that final session on the Saturday was England’s only decent session in the whole match.
Not just a bad match for England – a shockingly bad one. All credit to Pakistan for playing really well, but England didn’t even compete. Click here if you dare.
At the end of the day, a steward kindly takes our picture…
On which day did Middlesex come second twice while Middlesex Seconds came first once?
Now that would be a really good sports quiz question…if it were located somewhere other than this clearly dated blog page.
Confused? Let me explain.
I arranged to go to Radlett with Charley “The Gent” Malloy to see Middlesex v Essex. Long overdue, was our joint visit to Radlett – we had planned to go together to a second team match about four years ago but the rain put paid to that plan, although I did write up our replacement culinary gathering for King Cricket – click here or below:
Tempting the rain gods yet further, I contacted Fran to find out whether she and Simon intended to visit Radlett that day. Our previous attempt to watch cricket together at Uxbridge had been well soggy – click here or below:
Anyway, Fran and Simon were planning on showing up at Radlett, so we planned to all sit together.
Then Richard Goatley (Middlesex CCC’s Chief Executive) asked me if I could join him and some others that evening at the Oval for a London Playing Fields Foundation Sports Quiz Fundraiser. Not really my cup of tea, but given the functional connection with the nascent London Cricket Trust charity, for which I am a Trustee – more on that anon – I thought I should go. Richard promised me a lift from Radlett to the Oval if I wanted to help save the planet by limiting the number of cars criss-crossing London that day – I eagerly accepted that offer of a lift.
In fact, getting to Radlett by train was a doddle…
…certainly compared with Chas’s ludicrous hike across from Malloy Manor, which should have taken him 40 minutes and took more like an hour-and-40. I managed it door to door in not much more than an hour.
That enabled me to nab a few decent seats at the front, with Fran’s vertical challenges in mind. I also thought best to avoid the relentless sun, although I didn’t realise quite how cold the shade would be.
The night before the big day, I had a memory flash that Fran had written to me while I was in Mauritius in 1979 and that I still had the letter. She had…I did…I scanned & printed same and took the incriminating evidence with me to Radlett. Click here or below to see the letter and how all that went down:
Anyway, that correspondence proved an interesting conversation piece for the middle part of the Middlesex innings, during which time Middlesex turned a very promising start into a potential disaster.
While Middlesex rebuilt the innings to something approaching respectability (only 30-40 runs short, rather than the 60-70 runs short that the innings at one point threatened), Fran and Simon observed the Chas and Ged picnic much as a pair of field anthropologists might observe a remote tribe. They had read of such picnics on King Cricket and Ogblog of course, but never actually witnessed anything quite like it.
Not really picnickers themselves, Fran and Simon did bring some cashew nuts, enabling us to share and test the relative merits of Marks & Spencer, Tesco and Lidl in the cashew department. Result: little distinction in flavour, but the more expensive M&S ones are larger and would look posher served up in a bowl.
Unfortunately, just before the end of the Middlesex innings, Fran’s mum, who has been poorly of late, called with a minor emergency which Fran and Simon, kindly and dutifully, went off to attend. I hope I’ll be able to catch up with them again soon – e.g. at Merchant Taylor’s School.
Meanwhile I tried to convince Chas (and myself) that 250 might just prove to be enough runs (ha ha) while Essex set out to prove that even the 280-290 par score might not have been enough if Middlesex kept insisting on dropping catches all afternoon.
Mercifully I had to leave before suffering the indignity of the final nails being driven into Middlesex’s coffin by Essex – click here to see the scorecard and details – in short, Middlesex came second.
Then the drive across London, starring James Keightley behind the wheel, Bob Baxter (Chair of Middlesex Cricket Board) in the front seat, with the back seat navigators being Richard Goatley & me…especially me once we hit traffic and I figured that Waze might solve our navigation problems for us.
We got to the Oval in good time.
The opening overs of the charity event were stunning – it was a glorious sunny evening and we took drinks on that OCS sun deck.
Our team/table also comprised William Frewen (like James, from Teddington CC), Ed Griffiths, his nephew Alex (Richmond CC) and a young gentleman named Bruce (I think).
It soon dawned on me that everyone on our table, apart from me, was bringing quite a lot to the sports quizzing party. It also dawned on me that Richard and the others had sort-of assumed that I might be a useful addition to a sports quiz team. Oh dear.
Oh well, I am what I am, an’ I’m not ashamed.
Strangely, I was able to make a few useful contributions, more through general knowledge questions and sort-of knowing how quizzing works than through sports knowledge itself.
Example: as we were going in to the meal/quiz, James mentioned to me that the master of ceremonies/quizmaster/former Rugby Union international, Martin Bayfield, has appeared as Hagrid’s body in the Harry Potter movies. “Park that piece of trivia at the front of your brain, James,” I said, “that’s bound to come up in one of the questions.” It did.
It was a reasonably relaxed atmosphere on our table, at first. But as we started to do better and better on the leaderboard, the competitive spirit on the Middlesex table started to really take hold.
Heading up the Middlesex competitive spirit big time was Ed Griffiths. I have got to know Ed quite well over the last few months, as he is leading on our London Cricket Trust initiative, to put cricket facilities into parks and commons across London. I have a huge amount of admiration for the way Ed is gently but relentlessly driving our initiative forward. I’ll be writing a fair bit more about the London Cricket Trust in the coming months.
So I suppose it should come as no surprise that Ed is a very competitive chap. But his response to the conclusion of the sports quiz, when it was announced that we had come second (out of sixteen), had to be seen to be believed.
At first I thought Ed was joking, as I might have done, melodramatically bemoaning our “close but no cigar” outcome. But when he nearly smashed a glass in frustration and then went to the quiz adjudication table in order to audit and question the results, several of us realised that Ed really was a ball of combative anger.
Ed returned to our table with the news that we had lost by a mere two points, which, given the charitable circumstances, was news that would satisfy less driven individuals (e.g. me) to conclude that we had done really well and that it was for charity after all and that, but for fortune, we might even have won.
Yet the closeness of the defeat seemed to anger and frustrate Ed yet further. He nearly smashed a wine glass again. Writing this up five days later, I think Ed Griffiths might just about be over the disappointment now…but perhaps not. Middlesex had come second again. Albeit this time in a field of 16 rather than a field of two.
Coincidentally, sitting at the next table to us, was a lady who kept looking across at us and who eventually came over to introduce herself; Tom Lace’s mum. Tom is one of our up and coming second team players who, as the coincidence grows, also plays for Teddington CC. Tom’s mum went on to take selfie photos of herself with William and James from Teddington. I am absolutely sure that breakfast time in the Lace household the next morning will have thrilled young Tom, when mum showed him the evidence of her fun evening with the Middlesex CCC/Teddington CC great and good. In my (limited) experience, youngsters love that sort of thing.
On the evening, I chose not to mention that Tom Lace is (the coincidence simply grows to bonkers proportions) my long-form kit sponsorship player this year. I surmised that such news would have been a relative sub-plot to what was already a bit of a sub-plot, so I kept schtum about that.
But I don’t suppose anyone at that fundraiser was left in any doubt that Middlesex had attended and contributed to the evening big time. Not only did we come second in the quiz (I will get over it eventually, really I will) but two of our number bid very generously in the auction. Ed Griffiths bought tickets to a show he didn’t even know existed (until he was bidding for it), while William Frewen procured one of Harry Kane’s football boots.
As William lives quite near me, I offered to cab him and his new boot home on my way. But I signally failed to find a cab or Uber at the end of the evening…
South of the river? Do me a favour!
…so William and I walked to Vauxhall together and journeyed by tube, with William carrying an unfeasibly expensive soccer boot in a presentation box that had been cunningly disguised, through the use of a simple cardboard box exterior as…
…any old cardboard box. Fiendish.
William and I sat on the Victoria Line train discussing the finer details of Middlesex Cricket Board governance and its integration into Middlesex Cricket…like you do.
How can I win England the World Cup with only one soccer boot?It was a fitting end to an odd but hugely memorable day.
The original idea for this expedition was to be a day at the Essex v Lancashire cricket match with Escamillo Escapillo as well as Charles. Indeed, Charles had also been hoping to line up Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks – a Lancashire supporter, like Escamillo Escapillo – but in the end neither of the Lancastrians could make it.
With the cricket season still new and the weather set fair (at long last), I was still up for it, so we arranged that I would drive over to Malloy Manor, leave Dumbo in safe custody there, while Charley drove us to Chelmsford for the day.
Charley was on hand to greet me as I arrived along the driveway of Malloy Manor – he then directed me to a very specific parking place he had in mind for Dumbo. It’s protocol galore in such rarefied parts of the land, it seems.
I had the opportunity to greet Mrs Malloy briefly, but Charley wanted to keep the pre-expedition pleasantries to a minimum, as he was convinced that we needed to get to the members’ car park early. As it happens, Chas was right.
But it also meant that I didn’t get to greet The Boy Malloy, who it transpired was also in the house at that hour, as he is on late shift at the moment. That made me feel badly about not having even shouted out a “hello” to the lad, although The Boy could, of course, have come down to say hello to me. The Boy was probably seething with envy in his room, envisaging me and Chas relaxing all day in the sun at Chelmsford, while he would be toiling on a late day at work.
Before the start of play – Chelmsford looked a picture
Chas and I were in the ground and well positioned in the Tom Pearce stand by about 10:20. We would have been in place five minutes sooner, but Chas started to mount the wrong staircase for his favourite spot, realising his mistake quite late in the ascent and displaying considerable embarrassment at his error.
“You’re going to blog that mistake, aren’t you?” said Chas.
“How many years have you been coming here?” I asked.
It was a gloriously sunny day. I took the above picture and zapped it to Escamillo Escapillo, with a kind note:
Missing you already.
We watched the whole of the first session from Chas’s favourite, elevated in the Tom Pearce, spot. But while there, Chas spotted that, across the way, a small stand with green chairs has been erected, where formerly there were just some higgledy-piggledy loose seats. It was from that shady spot three years ago we had witnessed Essex v the Australians and a steward who seemed to have St Vitas Dance:
“That looks tempting for the second session”, said Chas.
“I can see some seats at the front, by an aisle, that would certainly do the job”, I agreed. So that’s where we went for the second session and the start of the third. A shadier spot for the hottest part of the day with an excellent view.
Soon after we arrived in that small green stand, a gentleman with a dog, Clive, arrived and sat near us.
Meet Clive
Chas and I remarked afterwards that, although people talk about County Championship cricket being attended by “one man and his dog”, this was the first time we’d ever seen (or at least noticed) a man with a dog at the cricket.
It transpires that the dog’s attendance is perfectly permissible at Chelmsford. Chas wondered whether the same applies at Lord’s.
“Only if the dog is of the requisite pedigree and from the right sort of family, I should imagine”, I mused.
Clive displayed extreme indifference to the cricket at times, which encouraged me to ask permission to photograph him and blog his pictures. A King Cricket piece on this matter is ready and will no doubt appear quite soon, by King Cricket standards. It will be worth it.
Having enjoyed my ham sandwich in the Tom Pearce (Chas went for cheese initially), I felt ready for my cheese sandwich just before tea – as Chas indeed felt ready for his ham.
But, horror of horrors, it transpired that Chas had eaten my cheese sandwich, not his own.
I should perhaps explain that it is Mrs Malloy’s charming habit to write a little personalised note in each sandwich, describing in detail the delights therein. Sometimes she will prepare different sandwiches for different people. She knows that I don’t like egg, for example, while Chas normally would opt for egg ahead of cheese.
As good fortune would have it, the menu was exactly the same for both of us on this occasion, so the fact that Chas had eaten “my” cheese sandwich rather than his own ought to have made no difference. But I threatened to snitch on Chas for this error. In fact, perhaps fearful of my squealing, Chas himself confessed to that misdemeanour when we returned to Malloy Manor.
Parenthetically, Mrs Malloy seemed irritated and a little anxious about Chas’s mistake, chastising him for his carelessness. Also parenthetically, I have displayed some strange symptoms in the subsequent days, which Daisy has diagnosed as mild arsenic poisoning. Daisy and I are both absolutely sure that these must be entirely unrelated matters.
But I digress.
Chas and I moved on to The Boy Malloy’s favourite side-on view (beyond the members area) for most of the final session of play, taking in some early evening spring sunshine.
Essex had been on the wrong end of this match for much of the day, but as the day unfolded they were right back in the contest, ending up, in my view, a smidgen ahead.
Late in the day we got a response from Escamillo Escapillo to my morning message. I wanted to take and send him a photo of the sunset, but while trying to mug the phone into a suitable light setting, ended up taking and sending a short video instead:
I told Escamillo that it had been super entertaining cricket – which it had.
When Chas and I returned to Malloy Manor, in addition to Chas’s chastisement for the sandwich swap error, I also got a quick tour of the lovely garden and a look at a wonderfully moving cricket team photograph, including Chas’s father, taken in a German prisoner of war camp.
It had been a great day. The weather had smiled on us and the cricket had been excellent. An especially memorable day of county championship cricket.
Attempts to get John Random (aka John Burns) to see some real tennis at Lord’s had not gone particularly well, previously, with John being called up to appear in a meerkat advert last time he was due to come see.
So when John called on the afternoon before our arrangement for 6 April, because he had a last minute call to be a 1940’s MP, we both thought the worst.
But in the end, as the call turned out to be 15:00, we still had time 6 April for John to see me play. As it happens, the contest turned out to form part of an unusual type of hat-trick. This was the second of three singles matches in a row in which my opponent had a double-barrelled name. Such names are not exactly rare amongst players of real tennis at Lord’s – but three in a row must be quite a rarity. In any case, I played well (by my own modest standards)…
Hopefully I have come on a bit in the 18 months since this photo was taken
…then John and I took some lunch at Mazi in Notting Hill Gate before he went off to be an historic MP.
I’d forgotten how good a place Mazi is – and so convenient for a local lunch. So when Stephen “Stentor Baritone” Barry got in touch on the following Monday with the good news that the Lord’s tickets we thought had got lost in the post had in fact been returned to him, I suggested we meet at Mazi for a quick bite on the Tuesday to avoid further possible postal misery. A very enjoyable lunch and a good chance to catch up, as we hadn’t seen each other for some months.
The Lord’s tickets in question are for Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks, who shall be joining me and Daisy (Janie) on the Saturday of the test match.
But Charley and I had/have some cricket to see in advance of that test match – not least and first up, the opening day of the season at Lord’s – now a traditional meet. I produced a picnic in my traditional stylee. Smoked salmon bagels, Iberico ham muffins and a fine Riesling (Alsatian on this occasion) forming the core.
Gawd it was cold at times that day. But we suffered for our love of cricket and sat it out at the front of the pavilion.
The MCC have been granted permission to use floodlights for the County Championship matches this year, which is a real coup and/but frankly overdue. I understand why local folk didn’t want untrammelled use of floodlights at Lord’s in the evenings, but they cause no disturbance during the day.
We’d probably have had no play at all without the lights and indeed, because it was so gloomy, only got a limited amount of play – about half the day’s play – even with the lights.
Middlesex had of course been inserted by Northants and I thought did well to battle it to 136/4 by the time stumps were drawn.
No shame there, though. John Random had been similarly “stitched up like a kipper” by it. Indeed it seems to have fooled most people.
I dare Ogblog readers who missed the posting over Easter to click through, watch the little vid and work out what was going on.
But enough of Lauds and back to Lord’s…
…play ended a little early and the day ended all too quickly, as always. I shall be joining Charley at Chelmsford next Friday, with the weather forecast suggesting a more pleasant climate for cricket than that gloomy opening day. But it had been worth it for the splendid company and the cricket, of course.
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