This event just seems to get better and better each year.
I started my end of season day at Lord’s, as in recent previous years, with a game of real tennis ahead of the lunch.
My task was to play against a relative newbie, to whom I gave a massive handicap – he started each game on 30 while I started on owe 15. That is quite a challenge for a clumsy clot like me who can make racket errors at the drop of a bandanna. I was pleased to achieve a one-set-all draw on that basis.
Mick Hunt, the Lord’s groundsman who is retiring this autumn, brought a couple of visitors into the dedans for a while to watch us play. I told him that I could have done with him leaving a bit more grass on the surface, as I am more experienced at lawn tennis than real tennis. I think he got the joke.
Then to the Middlesex drinks reception. The sun seems destined to shine on this event of late; it was a glorious day yet again and Lord’s looked a picture from the top of the Mound Stand.
Leshia greeted me warmly before informing me that I might expect an ECB disciplinary warning for my conduct breaches on the field of play during the launch…well really!
Daisy (Janie), who had been around for a while, soon found me, as did Escamillo Escapillo & PD. Soon after that, we were summoned for lunch.
Always a good meal and always pleasant company at table, this event.
Lots of awards – David Fulton hosting the event.
As well as awards, there are some raffles and games.
The higher and lower game. Is Leshia hedging her bets there or still making up her mind? We might need to get the anti-corruption unit to have a look at that.I asked Escamillo Escapillo what signal he would give from square leg if a nipper had wandered out of their crease and the wicket-keeper had stumped the nipper at lightening speed
I got nowhere with the higher and lower game, but I did apply my skills, knowledge and experience to filling in my raffle ticket accurately and legibly. So, when my card came out of the hat, I won half a case of wine. 95% luck, 5% skill, just don’t try it without the skill.
Geoff Miller speaks wittily about his career, using only a cricket bat as a prop
Geoff’s cricket bat-wielding oratory brought to mind the “Ian’s Cricket Bat” scene from the movie Spinal tap:
…but I digress.
Where were we? Oh yes, awards and speeches.
James Harris (great name) got several awards this year, including “the big ones”Mike O’Farrell, our Middlesex Chairman, always speaks well and from the heart
After the formal proceedings had ended, Janie and I chatted for some while with Chris Goldie, Escamillo Escapillo and PD, before the sun started to set and we realise that we had, once again, enjoyed an especially long end of season lunch.
Escamillo Escapillo has, of late, expressed a preference for seeing the first day of a test match. That was not too difficult for me to arrange this time around, knowing his preference in advance.
Of course, he didn’t express a preference for “one of those test match days that ends up being rained off in its entirety but that keeps you in suspense for much of the day, because the rain is light and might just stop”. But that’s what we got.
Ironic weather this, given the weeks and weeks of relentless heat and sunshine that led up to the start of the Lord’s test.
King Cricket lampooned the day, while it was happening, with this piece:
Nigel’s take on the same non-event, linked at the end of the above piece, is one of the finest guest pieces on Ogblog.
Naturally Escamillo Escapillo & I tried to make the most of it, which is not too hard to achieve with one of my picnics to hand. Posh Italian nibbles from Speck and a start on the very jolly bottle of Pinot Gridge courtesy of Escamillo Escapillo. Smoked salmon bagels and latterly prosciutto rolls helped us to get through the wine and warm our increasingly “resigned to the elements” hearts.
We had occasional “it looks like it is brightening up over there” moments but in truth Accuweather left us in no doubt that the intervals between showers were to be short and the showers long.
I think it was about 17:00 before the umpires bowed to the inevitable and we went our separate ways home.
Friday 10 August 2018
The forecast only looked a tiny bit better for DJ’s day. Still, I went through my picnic preparations and got to Lord’s quite early, watching tennis for a while. DJ texted me to say he expected to arrive around the start time.
When Jimmy took a wicket in the first over, I thought DJ might have missed one of the day’s major moments, but DJ came down the steps just after the wicket fell, excitedly telling me that he got to see it.
Just as well. About 30 minutes of cricket was all DJ got to see before the rain came. Then lots of rain. A bit like the September Test Friday last year…
…except this time the weather app warned us that there was torrential rain coming between 14:00 and 16:00; so DJ and I both bailed out ahead of that storm, with a view possibly to returning if, by some chance, the day were to clear up and they were able to get some more play in.
I got some work done – while doing so I kept an eye on proceedings. I also informed Daisy that I hadn’t drunk any alcohol, so was planning to drive over to Noddyland that evening rather than next morning.
The torrential rain was tropical style – the TV showed pools on the outfield – but then the rain stopped. An announcement came up on my screen to say “inspection at 17:00”;I guessed that meant possibly play to start at 17:45 or 18:00 – wrong! Play to start at 17:10…
…I returned to Lord’s, by jumping in the car and somehow found a parking space on St John’s Wood Road. So I got to see nearly 2 hours more cricket and finished my share of the picnic at the designated place. I did alert DJ, but he didn’t return.
Then, after stumps, on to Noddyland for a glass or two while Daisy ate her dinner.
Saturday 11 August 2018
Tennis first thing – I didn’t move so well despite the relative lack of sitting at the cricket. Massage with Lisa after that; much needed.
Then Ros’s visit. Ros is Janie’s very good friend from years gone by who has lived in Turkey for the last 25-30 years. We haven’t seen Ros for about 20 years. Facebook combined with Ros’s decision to visit Blighty reunited them/us.
Janie and Ros: reunited
Not 100% sure that this next picture is from the last time…but it was in Turkey and might have been the last time.
Mystic Ros reading the coffee grounds in Turkey, 1995: “I will visit you two at a place you will call Noddyland in about 23 year’s time”.
The weather was lovely, so we were able to take drinks and chat in the garden for some while, until Janie served up a splendid lunch of smoked salmon and Guernsey crab – the latter delicacy being a gift from Lisa.
Ros is an exponent of Bowen Technique therapies, which gave “the girls” a lot to talk about, while I joined in the conversation as best I could and kept at least one eye on the cricket.
Once the cricket ended, the combination of massage, wine and the gentle therapeutic conversation sent me onto the sofa and into the appealing arms of Morpheus.
I’m not entirely sure how much longer Ros stayed but I did wake up properly before Ros left.
Sunday 12 August 2018
Weather forecasts ahead of Sunday were not promising. I warned Janie that we might get nothing at all, but that we should be ready to go. Even first thing on Sunday itself , the forecast was aweful.
But then the wind direction shifted, such that the Thursday-like constant light rain looked likely to miss Lord’s for most of the day.
Daisy of course wasn’t ready for such a dramatic change of plan, so I jumped into Dumbo to get a good parking spot and get a couple of good (dry) seats in the Warner for us, suggesting that Janie & the picnic join me by Uber once they were ready.
in the end we got a super day of cricket in a very comfy spot with just a few short interruptions for drizzle.
Umesh Yadav continued to demonstrate his fitness at tea until the very last second
Nice people sitting around us, including an amusing gentleman from Oxford who had an aversion to the England team’s infantile nicknames and who seemed convinced (wrongly as it turned out) that Stokesy was going to go to jail.
We saw a great England win and then had the luxury of Dumbo just round the corner to run us home. We celebrated with a glass or two once we got back to Noddyland.
To Lord’s for luncheon in the Tavern with Richard Goatley, Rob Lynch, Escamillo Escapillo and PD.
Not a match day, this, but a chance for a bite and to show PD around the ground.
After lunch, a quick look at the real tennis (naturally) and then, despite the fact that there was no cricket on that day, the pavilion.
In the committee room, I found this little fella occupying a seat normally reserved for a visiting dignitary or, on the rare occasions she visits, Her Maj ERII.
King Cricket relishes pieces on animals displaying conspicuous indifference to cricket. I thought this image was an interesting variation on that theme. King Cricket clearly agreed, publishing the following piece in December 2018:
We enjoyed a pleasant wander around many other parts of the ground, including the indoor academy, where Escamillo Escapillo and I got PD interested in the idea of having a go by recounting some of our tales of derring-do at that place…
Anyway, the upshot of that extremely pleasant afternoon, some months later (March 2019), appears to be this – click here. (Or, if anything ever befalls the Middlesex CCC site, click here instead.)
It’s a rare day in the social calendar that includes two such a special occasions; one for the happy young couple of the moment and the other a major sporting rivalry unfolding.
But 19 May 2018 will go down in history as just such a day.
No, I’m not talking about the Heghan nuptials – more than enough has already been written and spoken about that for a lifetime. I’m talking about Escamillo Escapillo and Lavender having diner at Il Baretto with me and Daisy…
…and of course I’m not talking about the FA Cup final between Chelsea and Manchester United – surely that is only of limited interest to most people. No, I am talking about the intense rivalry between me and Daisy on the modern tennis court. A battle at which Daisy had, in recent months, seemed to have found an upper hand, but just these last couple of weeks I seem to have found my mojo again. Some extra gears, decisive play and a brutal finish – believe me you had to be there truly to sense the sheer thrill of it all.
Anyway, to Il Baretto. Most unusually, we all arrived a few minutes ahead of the appointed hour. Central London seemed surprisingly easy to navigate that evening – word was that there was congestion to the South West (out Windsor way) and the North West (Wembley direction) for some reasons.
The happy young couple of the moment
Escamillo Escapillo looks especially happy in the above picture, as he has received a birthday present in the form of the documents you can see by his elbow – tickets to Middlesex v The Australians – which will be the next outing for the four of us.
The food and wine at Il Baretto is consistently good. Janie and I shared some calamari and fried zucchini to start, while the youngsters had some very tasty-looking bruschetta. For mains, Lavender had risotto, Daisy had tuna steak, Escamillo Escapillo had sirloin steak and I had grilled sea bream.
We sort-of went our own way with wine – Daisy and I persevering with Riesling while Escamillo Escapillo switched to Pinot Nero. The wine waiter was a bit farcical – he told me that he had to replace the Riesling we had chosen with an alternative, which he promised was “better” and did taste absolutely fine, but he refused to show us what we were drinking. Then when Escamillo and I did the recommended wine match with deserts, he seemed unable to work out which wine should go with which desert…he even had two goes at it. Minor stuff – more amusing than irritating.
I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’ve been drinking
A very convivial evening
Janie chose a desert named “When Harry Met Meghan” which comprised a fruity, tasty-looking small tart and a long cocktail. Very apt.
Daisy indulging in her “When Harry…” It is an optical illusion making my cup of tiramisu look three times the size of Daisy’s pud
What else can I say? We all had a great time and went our separate ways at a respectable hour – Daisy and I needed to prepare to do battle on the tennis court again first thing Sunday. (Same result, seeing as how you’ve asked. Thank you, Mr Netchord, for the final point.)
What could be nicer than a family gathering in rural Buckinghamshire for the Sunday repast?
Escamillo Escapillo and Lavender suggested a few possible dates to us. We chose this one because Escamillo’s aunt and uncle, Sue and Alan, were going to be staying with them. We’d met Sue and Alan at the wedding and got on well with them, so this seemed like a great opportunity for a gathering.
The youngsters chose The Plough at Cadsden – just a few miles up the road from their place. Neither Daisy nor I had heard of it, but according to its web site it is “probably the most famous Pub in England” and “[t]he Pub of Choice of Prime Ministers for many decades”.
Indeed, Escamillo took great pride in reporting that The Plough was the very pub in which David Cameron, famously, accidentally abandoned one of his children, a few days after Escamillo and Lavender’s wedding. Daisy and I made a mental note of how many people were in our party and therefore how many people we would needed to count as we left, to ensure that we were still complete.
We had a short debate on what to call the meal in question; lunch or dinner. With three Lancastrians and three southerners at the table, that match was always going to end as a draw. Given the portion sizes in The Plough. it was basically going to be a one proper meal day for all of us, whatever we called it.
We all decided to have a main and a desert, on the advice of Escamillo and Lavender who warned us about the portion sizes and suggested that the desserts were especially sproggy and good; they were right. The main course specials of the day revolved around roasts (surprise surprise on a Sunday). Daisy plumped for lamb while I plumped for pork. The others went for beef (mostly) or chicken. I went for the death by chocolate brownie and ice cream dessert which was very yummy and was the majority choice. Daisy went for apple pie and custard, which she said was also very good.
We talked a lot about cricket over lunch; Alan and Sue are very keen on it. Their reminiscences about the Lancashire leagues of old and their thoughts about the London Cricket Trust project, with which I’m now involved, were very interesting and insightful. We also all talked about county championship and test match cricket rather a lot.
Here is a photograph of all of us at table after the meal, with thanks to the nice waitress.
I am delighted to report that, on leaving The Plough, we took numerical stock and all six of us were still together. No-one got abandoned in The Plough or even in the grounds outside it when we all drove off. This I think proves beyond doubt that we could run the country better than David Cameron and his bunch of cronies.
Anyway, we’d had a really enjoyable meal and get together. I hope we get a chance to get together again soon.
After work, I went to Lord’s for my long-awaited round of 16 tournament fixture, tennis racket and baroq-ulele in hand.
The least said about my performance at tennis the better. I wasn’t bageled in either set is about as far as “the positives” will go. Perhaps I would have played better tennis with my baroq-ulele than with my racket.
Afterwards I went on to DJs place for a very enjoyable guitar/baroq-ulele jam.
Tuesday 19 September
A day of county cricket between Middlesex and Lancashire at Lord’s with Escamillo Escapillo. After an early visit to the gym, I got to Lord’s a few minutes after play had started. Middlesex were batting and had lost two early wickets by the time I got to HQ. Things didn’t improve for Middlesex that first hour, with four early wickets going down.
We had an excellent lunch of roast beef baps and salad from the Long Room bar; Escamillo’s idea and treat to spare me the picnic preparation. A superb idea it was too.
It was an excellent day of company and cricket, the latter of which got better, then worse, then better again for Middlesex. Escamillo seemed a little conflicted, as a Lancashire supporter who nevertheless wanted to see Middlesex survive in the first division.
At the end of the day, Escamillo Escapillo joined me as a guest at the sponsors’ party in the Thomas Lord Suite, which was very pleasant. I scored a half case of wine in the raffle, which put paid to any thoughts of walking home after the party.
Wednesday 20 September
Early start, as I had agreed to play the real tennis equivalent of a “naughty boy net” at 9:00 (a doubles partnering Mark Ryan) and needed to prepare my share of the Charley The Gent Malloy picnic before heading to Lord’s. Charley and I had agreed to share the picnic duties.
The above photograph shows my share of the picnic, which includes several food items which were to be the subject of foodie debates which, I hope, will form future King Cricket pieces, which will be linked here if/when published.
I performed well in my naughty-boy doubles and got changed in time to secure good seats for me and Chas before Chas arrived, a few minutes after the start of play. Middlesex took a wicket while I was signing Chas into the pavilion.
Charley, being an Essex supporter, was able to give his full support to Middlesex today, as Essex had already won the county championship last week.
We nibbled little during the morning, as I had a tennis singles at 13:00. Chas came and watched some of that match, which went very well for me.
When I returned to the pavilion, the sides were off for bad light and Chas was chatting with a blind member who was visiting with a partially-sighted pal who was enjoying a day at Lord’s for the first time. Delightful company, those two were.
Much like my day with Escamillo yesterday, Chas and I retired to the Warner Stand for the second half of the day. More comfortable seating than the pavilion and a similar view. Nice coffee available in that new stand too.
The centrepiece of my share of the picnic is there to be seen in the above photo; the centrepiece of Chas’s picnic was a plentiful supply Dot’s speciality corned beef baps.
Middlesex got into a good position but then subsided in the second innings to leave the match tantalisingly poised overnight.
How quickly the season has been and gone, Chas and I agreed, as we parted company at cricket for the last time in 2017.
I supped on a couple of Dot’s corned beef baps with salad.
Thursday 21 September
Working at home today, while following the latter stages of the Middlesex v Lancashire match. I went to the gym mid morning and heard some of the match on the radio; a couple of early wickets for Middlesex not quite settling my nerves, but improving my outlook for the match. It was a tight finish, but Middlesex were ahead of the curve in taking wickets for most of the day.
Soon after Middlesex won the match, it started to rain. Not long after that, I set off for Lord’s to play in the quarter-finals of the doubles tournament.
My good performances from the day before did not translate into performance in the big match that mattered. It was a tough fixture, especially as my doubles partner had been on holiday and therefore not played for a few weeks. We fought hard but came second, so that is the end of the internal tournament season for me.
As I left Lord’s that evening, I ran into several members of the Lord’s staff who had clearly been in end of season goodbyes mode for the last few hours with members leaving the ground after the last professional cricket match of the season. “Winter well”, “see you next year”, that sort of tone.
“See you Tuesday”. I responded. That’s when I’ll be back at Lord’s, picking up again on the fragments of my so-called real tennis career.
One guest today, Escamillo Escapillo, our Lancastrian nephew-in-law. A veteran of The Lord’s Throdkin, he appreciated the slight variation to the recipe from last time and agreed with me that the flavour and texture were somewhat improved. Some conjecture on this point might well follow on Ogblog, King Cricket or both.
There was also some ingratitude in the matter of special cream cheese and its pairing with smoked salmon, about which I intend to publish at length elsewhere.
But other than those controversial culinary matters, the day progressed as only a relaxing day of test cricket at Lord’s could and should.
West Indies chose to bat and struggled through a difficult morning and early afternoon, only to collapse in a heap as the afternoon went on.
Jimmy Anderson bowling with only 499 wickets to his name.
Ben Stokes bowled beautifully and deserved the bulk of the wickets:
England found it no easier once they were asked to bat that day.
By that time, Escamillo Escapillo had left early to go to a function with his wife, our niece, Lavender. Daisy had spent the day with Lavender and took pains to bring the young couple together in Marylebone, while also swiping Escamillo Escapillo’s ticket and spending the last 90 minutes or so of play with me.
It got very dark and very cold towards the end of play – so much so that we escaped early, but only an over or two before bad light (even with floodlights) intervened.
The weather forecast was distinctly iffy for Day 2. Brian sent me a “what’s happening if…?” e-mail and I sent my response to him and both of the others. There was general consensus that we go to the ground, hope for some cricket before the rain and see what happens.
Brian came round to my place just as I was finishing the picnic and getting ready to go; we travelled to the ground together. As we were nice and early, I showed Brian the real tennis which immediately grabbed his fascination.
I went off to meet Ian and Graham, leaving Brian with the tennis (at his request), who then joined the rest of us when play started, around 11:15.
But soon after play started, the rain returned, so we all decided to wander round to the dedans to watch real tennis; Brian wanted to see more, Graham had never seen it before and wanted to, the other Ian had seen it before but was happy to see it again.
Brian observed that we had four very similar, uber-English names; Ian, Ian, Brian and Graham. As everyone traditionally has a pseudonym in my cricket pieces, I think we can improve and simplify.
As it happens the other Ian is already “Iain Spellright”; King Cricket has not yet published the outstanding piece about him from 2014, but it does exist. Brian should be known as “Ian Borne” and Graham should be “Iain Insteadman”.
That should make the rest of this piece really easy to follow.
It was clear from the TV screen in the dedans that the rain was getting harder and harder; I went to rescue our picnic around 12:30 in the sodden gloom and felt very little optimism for the prospects of play.
At least we had the picnic, so we tucked into The Lord’s Throdkin with Iain Spellright’s utterly delicious bottle of Barollo. Janie was envious when I told her.
By around 13:30, Ian Borne, being the most sensible of us, concluded that the prospects of play were very poor. Also, having told me excitedly about the interesting projects he’s working on at the moment, I suspect that the lure of those projects was greater than the lure of watching it rain at Lord’s.
However, soon after Ian Borne left, the announcer reported an expected start time of 14:15 and the weather forecast changed from “no hope after 15:00-16:00” to “no more rain expected until after stumps”.
So, we the remaining threesome resumed our seats and hunkered down with a super-sized picnic and several hours of cricket to watch. The irony of “Ian Borne” missing out on several hours of cold play in order to spend several hours on his pet projects would not be wasted on him nor on any of us who stayed on to watch cricket.
Good cricket it was too, with England working hard in still difficult batting conditions to press ahead with a reasonable lead.
We had some interesting number-crunching business, trying to decide what a decent and realistic first innings target might be. Iain Spellright was looking to double the West Indies score, but soon backtracked a little. Iain Insteadman and I thought 50 to 60 would be a decent, admittedly not insurmountable lead. 71 lead was the outcome.
Then England started bowling and very, very soon, Jimmy Anderson took that historic 500th test wicket:
West Indies then batted in the fading light, but not gloom, so the floodlights could keep the show on the road and I don’t think I have ever seen Lord’s looking quite so special at dusk before – aided by the double-rainbow to the south-east as some heavy clouds threatened but passed us by.
First a single rainbow…
…then a double rainbow.
The pavilion end looking equally special.
Against all the odds, we got a more than decent day’s play; very relaxed, relaxing and enjoyable. I think this was the latest test match finish I have experienced live; 19:30. After saying goodbye to Iain and Iain, I (Ian) walked home.
Day Three – 9 September 2017
I stayed at the flat overnight and got my few bits and pieces together quickly and easily enough – Daisy was doing the main picnic.
I walked to Lord’s and secured some good seats. I ran into one of my real tennis pals so we chatted for a while. Then Daisy arrived. Then Alan and his pal Jonathan came over in search of some throdkin cookies, which I had promised Alan the last time I saw him at Lord’s.
England made reasonably light work of finishing off the West Indies; three more wickets before lunch, then the last four soon after. Jimmy Anderson was the pick of the bowlers.
Daisy didn’t think to photograph England bowling…
…but did photograph England batting
We continued to tuck in to Daisy’s enormous picnic while England tucked in to West Indies demoralised bowling and won the match.
Henry Bloefeld did a lap of honour to celebrate his final match as a commentator:
For sure we were ideally located, not only to be caught on camera but also to see the presentation ceremony, which took place right in front of us in the Warner Stand.
That’s three days at Lord’s for Janie this year – all three being days when England won the match and took the ceremonial plaudits. Daisy must be a lucky mascot for England when she’s in that new stand. She should visit more often.
It has to be said that, up until this day, our attempts over the years, with Lavender and Escamillo Escapillo, to watch Middlesex and Lancashire play cricket, had been soggy experiences to say the least.
Indeed, previous attempts by just me and Escamillo Escapillo to watch our respective counties play each other had been thwarted for one reason or another until last season, where we managed to squeeze in a half day – Ogblogged here.
We aimed to get to the ground in time for the start, but hadn’t counted on the local Sunday trading laws, so although M&S (other sources of sandwiches, crisps and water are available) opens at 10:30, it doesn’t actually open the tills until 11:00.
Shopping is not something I like to do; I like to buy things I want/need, I don’t like to shop. So 10:35 to 11:00 that morning was not the most enjoyable/memorable part of the day. I won’t be making that mistake again on a Sunday morning.
Still, we had the Escamillo-mobile on stand-by, so we were still inside the ground and wandering around by 11:20.
Cricket En Famille – But Who Is The Third Man?
We took up good front row seats in our chosen position quite quickly. Soon after that, Daisy got quite shirty with me because I didn’t want to start drinking at 12:00 on a Sunday. Escamillo Escapillo was driving anyway and I knew what was coming later, so we left it to the girls to start drinking that early in the day.
There were quite a few Middlesex supporters around on the Sunday – some came and sat quite close to us. Soon after lunch was called by the umpires, Barmy Kev came and joined us for a while.
Barmy Kev didn’t take it upon himself to remind me that I owe him a drink or three and I don’t need reminding. But I didn’t want to drink that early in the day; I knew what was coming later, plus I didn’t want to reciprocate Barmy Kev’s generous hospitality at Lord’s with the less salubrious (I really mean less expensive) offerings at the Trafalgar Ground.
Meanwhile Escamillo Escapillo and Lavender were both as happy as Larry; the former because Lancashire were doing well in the match, the latter because EE was as happy as Larry and she was getting a bit merry with Daisy on the fermented grape juice.
“So who is the third man?” I hear readers up and down the land asking, as we are now several paragraphs on from me setting that puzzle.
If that makes no sense to you, click the blithering link where the strangeness is explained. The long and short of it is that John Easom at Keele Alumni Central put me and Frank back in touch with each other and when I told Frank that we would be coming to Southport for the cricket in a couple of week’s time, he responded by saying that he had been half-planning to show up at that match anyway.
We’d bought plenty of sandwiches for everyone, while Frank wanted us to know unequivocally that, while we were visitors on his patch, he was going to buy the drinks aplenty. Perhaps there is some sort of by-law about this for Merseyside.
Escamillo Escapillo was becoming even happier than Larry, despite sticking strictly to driver’s lemonade, as Lancashire’s position went from good to seemingly impregnable. Lavender likewise for both of the reasons expressed earlier.
As tea came round, so the young couple said their goodbyes to us, as planned; they were heading home that afternoon/evening, whereas Daisy and I were staying on the extra night.
Frank said that he too would only stick around for another hour or so after the young couple left, but that was plenty of time for us to finish catching up with some of our news, swap some old stories and discuss the current political maelstrom.
Cricket, wine, water, memories, news, political maelstrom…
In addition to his generosity with the drinks, Frank seems to have decided that I should be the curator of his Keele picture memorabilia, handing me an envelope with a few photographs, all of which will find their way onto Ogblog when I write up the relevant stories but can now all (all seven) be seen on Flickr, click here.
It was a really lovely day – at last Daisy and I have spent some time actually watching cricket with Lavender and Escamillo Escapillo – indeed it had been a lovely weekend with them. The years just fell away chatting with Frank; I do hope to see him again soon, probably in London next time.
We agreed that the weather forecast for Saturday looked shocking and (I thought) agreed that a day out in Liverpool would be a good substitute for sitting around in (probably) vain hope of any cricket. We also agreed to liaise in the morning.
About 9:00 a.m. Daisy received a text from Lavender to say that, as the weather was so poor, they had decided to take the train to Blackpool for the day.
Liverpool – more front than Blackpool?
“What’s Blackpool like?” asked Daisy.
“I’ve never been on a wet June day and I’m not about to either,” was my reply, “what the hell was wrong with the Liverpool idea; I thought we’d all agreed a plan last night?”
Daisy phoned Lavender to ascertain that she had, in fact, confused the names Blackpool and Liverpool. The whole of the north of England is just one huge swathe of vaguely-named towns and cities to some people.
So we were as one with the plans and headed off to Southport railway station. For the princely sum of £5.10 each we were awarded the freedom of the Wirral and Northern Lines for the day.
We ran into some Middlesex supporters as we went to board our train. They seemed to think there might be play from 11:30 and wondered why we were fleeing town. The truth will have dawned on them as the day panned out – there was no cricket at all that day.
From Liverpool Central, we headed towards Albert Docks; our first stop being the Tate Liverpool. Daisy took some photos along the way.
Are you SURE we weren’t in Blackpool?
We were really impressed with the Tate Liverpool and spent quite some time there.
Tate Liverpool, Albert Dock
We started with the Tracey Emin and William Blake in Focus exhibition. I’m not 100% sure about the connection between Blake and Emin – this seemed to me more a marketing ploy than a genuine connection – but I had never actually seen the Tracey Emin bed before, nor had I ever seen so many William Blake pictures gathered in one place. Well worthwhile.
We then went through the upper floor (i.e. same level as the Emin/Blake) of Constellations – which is the main regular exhibition at Tate Liverpool. We all enjoyed that enormously but felt in need of a sit down and some refreshment at that stage, so we went to the cafe for a while and then looked at the rest of Constellations.
Buoyed by our refreshments, we wandered round the block to the Beatles Experience, where there were long queues and a rather touristic look to the place, so we decided to go to the Cavern Club instead but, before leaving the docks area, to take Mike O’Farrell’s advice and visit the International Slavery Museum . I’m really glad we did.
I find it hard to try and articulate how that International Slavery Museum made me/us feel. It is very interesting. Some of it is shocking, not least the matter-of-fact inventories and documentation that makes it so clear that people were seen as commercial commodities. But much of first section of the museum is a wealth of information on the African culture from which so many of the slaves came and much of the last section is a celebration of the modern culture that has emerged through the descendants of former slaves.
One especially thought-provoking section is about modern slavery – in particular sex workers – which reminded me that slavery in all its horrible forms has not entirely gone.
Between the museums and the Cavern Club, we wanted to see Judy Chicago’s Fixing A Hole mural, at Stanley Dock near the Titanic Hotel. We took a cab there, on the advice of some helpful police-folk:
Judy Chicago’s Beatles-Inspired Mural “Fixing A Hole”
We didn’t hang around in the plush Titanic Hotel, nor the Stanley Dock. We were told we’d have no trouble getting a cab to the Cavern up on Great Howard Street, but we walked 5 minutes or more along that road without a sniff of a cab.
Chris cleverly suggested that we try Regent Road (along the side of the Mersey) instead. That worked rapidly…and we landed up with a Scouse cabby from central casting who told us his life story, how many he smokes and yet how far he walks, tales of seeing John Lennon’s ghost, everything he thought we ought to see in Liverpool…you get the picture. He was great.
Yes, it is possible for Ged to look this spaced out after just a few sips of wine and no narcotics, honestly, officer.
As always, Janie was keen to demonstrate her skills at Sixties-style dancing in a hippy-hippy-shake-stylee:
These pictures look even better in the iPhone mini vid mode, but you should get the idea from the still. Escamillo Escapillo feigns not being with Daisy.
As we leave, Daisy chats with security but does not have her collar felt.
We decided to head for a train between 18:00 and 18:15 to get us back to Southport in time to freshen up before dinner.
Dinner was at a family-run Italian restaurant named Volare, about 30 seconds crawl on hands and knees (not that we did it that way) from the hotel. The food was excellent and the staff helpful/friendly. The highlight (or perhaps low-light) of the evening was towards the end, when the staff with great fanfare played “Happy Birthday To You” at full volume over the sound system and presented a rather embarrassed-looking lady at the table behind me with a candle-lit tiramisu.
Unbeknown to me, Daisy signalled to the staff that it was also my birthday (which of course it wasn’t), so five minutes later they went through the rigmarole again for me, much to my discomfort and the glee of the other three. I shall exact my revenge; don’t know where, don’t know when, but the dish will be served cold.
In truth, we’d done many interesting things and had a lot of fun that day, despite most of it being distinctly “Plan B” activity.
A quick one or two for Dutch courage before the wedding ceremony
Let’s not talk about the five hour marathon packing session and dusky drive to Gloucestershire the day before. Nor is there much to report on the very enjoyable dinner with Tony, Liz, Chris (Escamillo Escapillo) and Charlotte (Lavender) on the Friday evening at the Egypt Mill.
No, let’s get straight to the wedding day itself, before the ceremony. I chatted with the groom, Scott, (Manolete) on the right and his best man brother Paul (Belmonte) with baby Jack, centre.
I wasn’t drinking two glasses; I was holding Daisy’s glass while she took the pictures. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Daisy’s big sister, Hilary (Ermintrude) came round looking for Chris (Carlos Aruzza), who was chatting with his brothers and sisters, more or less in front of our eyes.
“Where’s Chris??!!”, asked Hilary
“I think he’s on his fifth or sixth glass of wine, underneath that table over there”, I said, pointing the other way.
“Oh God, he isn’t, is he?”, said Hilary, in max-stress mode. Perhaps I’d chosen the wrong moment and the wrong person for that particular joke.
After that, we were soon ushered in for the wedding itself.
Hilary and Chris, reunited, also with Paul and baby Jack
The registrar told us that we could take pictures as we pleased, but that the pictures should not be posted on social media until after the celebrations. This statement caused some confusion among some of the more senior guests, unfamiliar with the term “social media”.
Scott decided to explain in simple terms what social media is.
Social media…right…it’s, like…Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and stuff…
It was probably just as well that Scott explained it, otherwise several senior folk who didn’t even know what the term social media means, mostly probably would have, inadvertently, posted lots of stuff to social media during the embargo period.
Meanwhile I, who had not given the idea of live Ogblogging the wedding a moment’s thought until that announcement, suddenly felt an almost insatiable urge to post stuff to social media that very second. But I resisted.
Here comes the bride, with dad
Scott was clearly in contemplative, nay perhaps even deep meditative mood during the official ceremony itself.
Stay awake, Scott, this is your wedding ceremony
The wedding ceremony itself went pretty much entirely according to plan. There was a short round of applause when we got through the “does anyone know of any reason why this wedding should not take place” bit.
The registrar asked Scott to confirm Amy’s name at one point, claiming that Scott might not have said it absolutely right the first time. Daisy, I and everyone we spoke to afterwards were convinced that Scott got it right first time; we agreed that the matter should have gone to the TV umpire rather than Scott having to replay the point.
Little Penny, Paul and Mish’s first child, was the flower girl for this wedding, sitting up front with the maids of honour. Penny asked lots of questions during the ceremony which was rather sweet.
Reception after the ceremony; no further questions from the flower girl…
Then, a reception and of course the official photo shoot. Has to be done, but not my favourite bit at weddings. In any case, that day in Nailsworth, it was quite chilly standing around waiting for your slot.
Penny treated the photo shoot with due respect…
Also waiting to be snapped
After the shoot, the very tasty wedding breakfast, served after some short but sweet speeches, including a very succinct and eloquent best man jobbie from Belmonte Paul:
There was just about enough time between the meal and the dancing for Daisy and I to dash back to our room and change into our dancing outfits.
Like many good sports matches, the dance was a game of two halves. First up was a live band, Men@Ease, fronted by Jerry (Ami’s dad) and his partner Christine. They performed mostly 60’s and 70’s covers and were very good indeed.
Scott and Ami get the dance going
I thought it was a really nice touch from Ami’s dad, doing an hour or more’s set on her wedding day. From Ami’s point of view, of course, it eliminated the possibility of “dad dancing misery”.
Realising that someone needed to do embarrassing dad-type dancing (otherwise the whole event wouldn’t have been a proper wedding), I picked up that baton, so Daisy and I danced like crazy for most of that set.
Mercifully (or sadly) we have no photos from that part of the evening…yet. The official pictures, we are assured, will be ready soon and will no doubt have caught me and Daisy in the act.
After the live music, a DJ picked up the mantle with some more up to date sounds. Daisy and I continued to dance for quite some while, teaching the youngsters a thing or two about stamina and modern dance moves…some moves so modern that the youngsters had probably never seen anything quite like it before.
Anyway, the whole event was super.
It’s a shame we don’t (yet) have any pictures of Daisy (Janie) to show you from the wedding. But we do have, from 2013, a rare bit of selfie-style-video from the very first time that Ged and Daisy met Ami, when we went down to Bristol almost exactly four years before the wedding. Someone had shown Janie how to use the video feature of her smart phone and the rest is history.
