Two Nights In Manchester, 12 to 14 March 2019

It can be cold and wet and windy in Manchester. Who knew? No, I mean honestly – my previous few visits were warm and pleasant – e.g. the most recent one in September 2016:

Anyway, life hasn’t been taking me to Manchester much lately, so when John White told me that his daughter, Lydia, was to have her first professional stage role in Rags The Musical at the Hope Mill Theatre…

…I decided to construct a short trip to that fair, clement City.

I contacted Ashley Fletcher, who had been unavailable on my previous visit or two; we arranged to meet for dinner on the evening of 12 March. So I booked three goes at the Manchester Tennis and Racquets Club, a ticket for Rags for 13 March and an Airbnb apartment near to the Hope Mill Theatre for two nights.

Unfortunately, Ashley got called away at the last minute on family matters, leaving the first night free. This possibly afforded me an opportunity to meet up with Alex “King Cricket” Bowden instead…

…but Alex spotted that Manchester City were to play Schalke 04 at the City Of Manchester Stadium that night, which is within chaos distance of my chosen location for diggings and musical theatre. What do I know of football? For a start, why are Schalke given 04 just for turning up – are they using a handicapping system in football now, much as we do in real tennis?

Strangely there had been a big European match at that same stadium when I was last in Manchester in 2016 against a shibbolethic team named…

…Borussia Mönchengladbach….

…But as I was staying in Salford Quays that time, the resulting disruption was merely hearsay to me, whereas this time I had inadvertently arranged to stay right in the thick of it.

I sought some spiritual advice on the matter.

I had arranged to meet Andy Salmon at Sacred Trinity Church briefly before playing tennis that Tuesday afternoon. We are both involved with the Church’s on-line service register initiative, which Andy is piloting.

Sacred Trinity, Salford (15217623208)
Sacred Trinity: a beautiful church in Salford which happens to be just around the corner from the Manchester Tennis And Racquets Club

It was actually very interesting for me to see one of the Churches involved in our project, not least to see what such places are like on a regular, non-service day. Andy of course made me very welcome and also gave me some helpful local North-East Manchester advice regarding what to do when a big match is on. Basically, get to your digs early enough to avoid the chaotic roads/transport and then only go out again during the hours of play.

ImageManchester Tennis and Racquet Club
Manchester Tennis And Racquets Club – not so special looking from the outside – you can see why I drove around the block a couple of times on my first visit there.

After tennis (a close match in which I came second, despite having received handicap points) I dashed off sharpish to get to New Islington early and settle in to my apartment. Probably just as well, not least because I could see the police getting ready to herd fans round the ring road and along Pollard Street. Also, it took me a while once I got to the apartment to sort out parking and entry – some goon had parked in the designated parking space for my car. The errant parking goon had been given a parking ticket, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do in the circumstances, so I waited for my host to sort out an alternative space for me to use, which he did reasonably quickly.

Getting in and out of these fancy apartments in converted industrial buildings is often quite a palaver (this is not my first time in such a place), but this one was quite exceptional, with codes for the car park, building entrance, stairs (if needed – wasn’t), corridors and then finally the front door. Once you know all of these things its OK, but the first time, laden with baggage…

…anyway, I was there in decent time and liaised with Alex. We concluded that getting either of us to and from each other within the hours of play would leave precious little time to actually do anything of merit, so abandoned the idea of meeting.

I took refuge instead at a very friendly-looking, family run Thai cafe,
just around the corner from the apartment. It was until recently called Vivid Thai, but has recently changed its name to Jūb Thai, renamed in memory of Grandma, apparently. I tried the chicken Pad Thai, which was lovely, washed down with a glass of red wine.

Plenty of time to eat there between the start and end of a football match.

Indeed I was home well before the end of the match and was very tired. I had driven almost all the way to Manchester through torrential rain; my least favourite driving conditions. I went to bed early and thought I heard the roar of the crowd from the stadium. Probably a goal I thought, dozily.

Then, half asleep, I thought I heard that roar again…then, soon after, yet again. I started to wonder whether I was actually hearing the howl of occasional gusts of wind rather than the crowd, but when I woke the next morning I discovered that Manchester City had done rather well, scoring seven and thus exceeding Schalke’s 04 on the handicap system.

I also discovered that Manchester City had done similarly well on my previous 2016 visit, scoring four against a team requiring no handicap – I’m starting to get the hang of this new soccer scoring system now. I’m sure the soccer crowds just love the additional nuance that handicap scoring can bring.

Anyway, after that enjoyably early night, I rose early and had plenty of time for reading and practising my Renaissance guitar technique before going off again to Salford for a lunchtime tennis match up. This time no handicap at all and this time I prevailed over my opponent. Both of the matches had been very good ones; really nice people and good challenging tennis. Tomorrow I’ll return for a lesson.

Back to the apartment for some more music and reading. Then back to the Thai place to try a rice dish – a beef massaman.

Then a quick pit stop back at the apartment before heading off to the theatre to see Rags The Musical, which I have written up here.

The next morning I vacated my apartment and drove round the ring road for my tennis lesson. I decided to take a picture of the main lobby of the club, which, in contrast to the exterior, looks like a grand club from a bygone era. Trigger warning: the heads of deceased beasts line the walls:

Through the arched window (as they would say in Play School) is the real tennis court.

Darren Long gave me my lesson – as indeed he did on my last visit. He does some different drills from the guys at Lord’s and has some interesting thoughts on the one or two things I might do to transform my game from the ordinary to the utterly exceptional. It might be as easy as that…although it might not.

Seriously, Darren is a very good coach and it was a very enjoyable hour. Once again, the team at the Manchester Tennis and Racquets Club had made me feel extremely welcome and looked after me as well as I could possibly have hoped for.

After the lesson, I availed myself of the changing room facilities and made a discovery worthy of a King Cricket write up – click here or below:

If by chance anything ever happens to the King Cricket site, that page is scraped to here.

That lavatorial stump contraption helped me to recover a childhood memory; a similar stump contraption for our back drive, made for me by a kindly, coincidentally Mancunian neighbour, Cyril Barnett:

I made two stops on the journey home to ensure an adequate state of alertness and to stretch a bit – driving from Manchester to London straight after a rigorous hour of drills on the tennis court is probably not ideal on the old body, but still.

It had been an enjoyable trip; apart from the cold, the wind and the rain. Manchester really should try and do something about that – otherwise it could end up with somewhat of a reputation for its inclement weather.

Spending Time With Some Funny People, 5 and 7 March 2019

When I say, “funny people” in this context, I mean comedy people, not necessarily strange people. Some of them might also be strange of course, but I’ll leave that judgement to the reader.

Funny-comedic, not necessarily funny-strange: Rohan Candappa

First up, for lunch on Tuesday 5 March, was Rohan Candappa. He wanted to try a Malaysian & Indonesian restaurant, Melur, on the Edgware Road. As I had requested that we meet somewhere over my side, as I needed to be at Lord’s for a game of tennis afterwards, that seemed a reasonable choice to me.

The weather forecast suggested heavy rain around the time I’d be finishing at Lord’s, so I took my car to Aberdeen Place and parked there ahead of lunch.

The food at Melur was excellent. I was restrained in my choices given the tennis bout ahead, going for an inoffensive Nasi Goreng. Rohan went for a more spicy version and for some roti canai, which I tasted and reckon was a pretty darned good roti. I shall forever more associate that dish with Rohan, so much so that I’ll think of it as…Rohan Kanhai. Coincidentally, I shall similarly forever be reminded of that Guyanese cricketer when I recall Rohan Candappa’s visit to Lord’s with me, last year:

But I digress.

Initially Rohan and I discussed my burgeoning career as a musician in a novel genre which fuses punk rock with Renaissance guitar:

I’m thinking of naming my novel genre “Mock Tudor Rock”

Rohan, who plans to manage my band, made several branding suggestions – I responded to those thoughts subsequently as follows:

The Wessex Petards might work better as a band name the The Wessex Pistols and I still feel that Sir Michael Smear is a more visceral nom de punk than Sir John Rancid. But I cannot better your album name – Never Mind The Bailiwicks – it ought to go gold or platinum on the name alone, before we release so much as a tiny sound sample…in fact it had better go gold or platinum before we release so much as a tiny sound sample.

Rohan and I also spent a fair bit of our time discussing Rohan’s wonderful Threadmash idea. I had participated in the inaugural Threadmash event a few week’s before.

I very much hope my thoughts were helpful and that Rohan can find a way to make the Threadmash idea work for all concerned.

I had allowed loads of time between lunch and tennis, so brought plenty of reading matter with me which I enjoyed reading over a couple of excellent cups of coffee at Café Laville, overlooking the canal in sunshine.

Then on to Lord’s in order to be taught a lesson by one of my favourite real tennis opponents who has recovered from injury since I last played him and seemed keen to let me see how well he can now move around the court. A surprisingly close match in the circumstances – I thought I did well to get close.

On Thursday 7 March I had a music lesson with Ian Pittaway, who passed expert judgement on my Mock Tudor Rock…

Place the rascal in the stocks at once!

…while helping me with some other silly ideas (watch this space) and sensible techniques (don’t hold your breath).

Then a visit from John Random for a bite of lunch and the second of two sessions of NewsRevue archiving. The first session was 25 January. John has a large collection of NewsRevue programmes, flyers and reviews, which simply needed to be digitised.

We succeeded in scanning it all in two sessions, despite lots of chat, listening to some music and cricket-match like breaks for lunch/tea.

Following some cheerful chat about murder rates around the world, which identified Mexico and especially Tijuana as a hot spot, we both agreed that Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass must have a lot to answer for. So we listened to a fair smattering of Herb. John was especially taken with his version of the Third Man theme…

…and his version of A Walk In The Black Forest:

We decided that this type of music is, in many ways, the soundtrack of our childhood. Of course we like to remember the cool stuff from the 1960’s and no doubt have listened to far more of the cool stuff in later life, but when we were kids this was the music that was being played on the radios and gramophone players most of the time in our homes and the homes we visited.

We also of course chatted about NewsRevue casts, shows and material gone by. We discussed one of my own classics from more than 25 years ago, Mad Frogs And Englishmen, which I realised I hadn’t yet Ogblogged. I have put that right now:

Job done in terms of the archiving, it was time for us to set off for one of our regular Ivan Shakespeare Memorial gatherings – at which NewsRevue writers from years gone by gather to eat, chat, laugh and informally quiz.

It was International Women’s Day today, so we found ourselves an all male gathering this time. In addition to me and John: Gerry Goddin, Mark Keagan, Barry Grossman, Colin Stutt and a rare but much appreciated visit from NewsRevue founder and “father of the house” Mike Hodd.

The venue was the Spaghetti House in Holborn this time; a good notch up in service and food quality from Cafe Rogues in my view. My first time there but not the group’s first time.

For many years John Random has talked about his vicarious support for a football team by the name of Blyth Spartans. His home town, Hartlepool, is John’s real team but he has carried a torch for this other team for decades.

John excitedly reported that he finally got to visit Blyth Spartans and saw an exciting match there just the other week. I believe it was this match. I feel that this momentous event needs recording for posterity, as does an image of John wearing his new Blyth Spartans titfer.

John reported on the event as follows:

I would like to say a big thank you to all those of you who came out to the Spaghetti House on Thursday night. Thanks also to Mike, Colin and Gerry for their entertaining quizzes. Falling as it did, almost on International Women’s Day I regret to report that NewsRevue has still not come clean on its gender pay gap. We haven’t even had any jokes about it, yet – though I have a feeling, we will – and soon.

As I said earlier, it had been a funny week.

Funny ha-ha, not funny peculiar.

Well, maybe funny ha-ha AND funny peculiar. Good times with good friends.

A Couple Of Hours Of Real Tennis At Lord’s, The Second Of Which Partnering Michael Constantinidi, RIP, 4 January 2019

I haven’t written about real tennis for a while. I am motivated to do so now (February 2019) due to the sad news that Michael Constantinidi, one of the MCC’s most senior players, passed away, aged 90, last week.

I partnered Michael in a game of “senior doubles” only a few week’s before he died and saw him on court just a few days before his sudden and unexpected departure.

Michael was an extremely likeable and charming man. It was always a pleasure to share the tennis court with him, either as his partner or as one of his adversaries.

Partnering Michael was almost like having a lesson. Not only because Chris Swallow, one of the professionals, was very often on the other side of the net trying to make life difficult (but not too difficult) for me, but because Michael would gently help me with praise and/or with context for my mistakes.

If I berated myself or apologised for a miss, he might say…

no, no, that was a very difficult ball, you did well to almost make it

…or if I missed a straight-forward shot, as oft I do, he might say:

never mind – you haven’t missed many all day.

On that day we played together in early January, I sensed that I was flagging a little towards the end of my second hour – I had played a rigorous game of singles against the actor Michael Keane (another delightful playing companion) before joining the seniors for doubles. But you wouldn’t have sensed any frustration from my doubles partner as my performance dipped late in the hour.

Michael Constantinidi was also a delightful gentleman with whom to chat in the locker room after a game. He’d led an interesting life and could discuss a great many subjects with insight and warmth.

He had been keen fives player – he had chaired the Eton Fives Association for many years. My fives game had been the Rugby Fives variety, but it transpired that Michael had spent much of his time with the Eton Fives Association building bridges between the two versions of the sport. Indeed, he had opened the refurbished fives courts at my old school, Alleyn’s some years ago.

Here’s a video that shows one of Michael’s pet Eton Fives projects, at Westway:

Whereas here is a promo video about Rugby Fives – no buttress but there is a back wall:

Michael Constantinidi used to joke with me that he was no use at taking the real tennis ball off the back wall because of his Eton Fives background, which presumably means that I still have ever so much more to learn about the tambour (the real tennis buttress) as a former Rugby Fives player.

I never did get to tell Michael about my historic fives victory in June 1975, described here and below:

But returning to Michael Constantinidi and real tennis; for a gentleman in his late 80s and latterly over 90, Michael was a remarkably good player still, moving around the court with surprising ease and speed.

But the thing about Michael’s real tennis play that I simply must write down and try to describe for posterity was his serve. It was bizarre…almost defying description…quite simply unique.

There are a great many different serves at real tennis, all with quirky names: giraffe, boomerang, railroad, bobble, demi-piquet and piquet (my own favourite)…

…but Michael’s serve was seemingly from another lexicon, or even from another planet.

Try to imagine an exaggerated version of a lawn tennis over-arm serve motion, not a million miles different from a “T-serve”, broken down into a couple of dozen individual, jerky, stop-frame motions, before the racket finally makes contact with the ball…

…Michael’s serve looked a little like that.

The coaches are encouraging me to try to simplify my serve, to minimise the amount of pre-impact movement, to concentrate on the essential part of the serve – where the racket impacts the ball – trying to get the desired amount of force, spin and length onto the ball. That is excellent advice, I understand, but it is entirely contre-Constantinidi.

And the extraordinary thing is, that not only did Michael’s Heath-Robinson-looking wind up to serve tend to transfix, hypnotise and confuse his opponent…

…it was on most occasions consistently accurate and surprisingly tricky to return. Like much in real tennis, it made little or no sense but somehow it worked for Michael. And probably only for Michael.

I don’t think we’ll see the like of Michael’s serve again, but if by some strange quirk of fate someone, somewhere decides to serve in that manner, I think it should be known for ever more as “The Constantinidi Serve”.

One can only assume the near-spherical symbols indicate “hard balls”.

Like the vast majority of real tennis players, Michael Constantinidi loved his hard ball sports, yet he was the softest, gentlest fellow with whom to play sport and delightful company off the court. His cheerful and charming demeanour will be fondly remembered and sadly missed around Lord’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of awards – David Fulton hosting the event.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…but I digress.

Where were we? Oh yes, awards and speeches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday 18 September 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday 19 September 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday 20 September 2018

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

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

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

Tennis At Queen’s Followed By Dinner With Simon Jacobs At Brasserie Blanc, 12 September 2018

I have been playing real tennis at The Queen’s Club this September, as the Lord’s court is closed for refurbishment and a few other clubs, such as Queen’s, have, very kindly, offered us MCC tennis types refugee status for the month.

It’s been a somewhat sobering experience at times.

My first gig as a refugee was a singles friendly match against a 12-year-old…

…who absolutely took me to pieces.

To be fair, he is the champion player at his age group and, if “the book” is to be believed, he is even capable of beating the U15 champion now. Here is some film of him winning the French Open:

I’m pretty sure he’ll be an exceptionally good player. Remember where you first heard the name: Bertie Vallat…

…I know, you couldn’t make up a more Wodehouseian name than that…

…he’s the boy in the foreground at the start of the filum.

Anyway, point is, after that ego-bruising episode, I decided that I needed a lesson in technique, so arranged to play an hour-long friendly match with one of my Lord’s chums, then an hour of coaching, ahead of meeting up with Simon in Hammersmith.

I did well in my friendly match – reclaiming the handicap points I had lost to Bertie. Then I enjoyed my lesson too, which I think will help my lawners as well as my realers…am I starting to spend to much time hanging around the arcane language of this game?

Then, after killing some time in a couple of coffee bars along the way, I met up with Simon Jacobs for a relatively early dinner at Brasserie Blanc.

I explained my difficult hour at the hands of a twelve-year-old the previous week, which led Simon to suggest that I might have “done a Serena” and/or resorted to corporal punishment. Neither of these suggestions seemed, to me, worthy of Simon.

But then Simon might well have had other things on his mind. He was very kindly taking time out to have dinner with me just a couple of days ahead of the launch of his latest single; Top Of The Pops. How cool is that?

Well, you can judge for youreselves by listening to and watching the following YouTube:

We discussed without irony the increasingly ghastly political landscape. The absence of irony is not because we have lost our senses of humour – heaven forbid. No, it appears that we never did have a sense of irony,  due to ethnic accidents of birth. No point mocking us (we wouldn’t get it), simply pity us.

The food was very good indeed. The wine was also very good. The service was excellent, until we asked our waiter to leave us alone for a short while to consider what to have for, or indeed if to have, desert. Then we complained when the waiter returned because he had neglected us for so long.

The waiter laughed and told us that we were his favourite table of the evening. Poor chap, he clearly thought we were being ironic…he didn’t realise that we really meant it – he didn’t realise that we don’t do irony.

We talked a fair bit about music; not only Simon’s new single but his plans for the album and also the stuff that I am fiddling around with at the moment. Simon set me some homework around “I Only Have Eyes For You” and also “Nothing Rhymed”, the latter of which has yielded faster results than the somewhat tricky former.

The evening whizzed by and I had no idea how late it was until we got to Hammersmith Station. Still, not so late that the tubes get tricky.

As always, it had been a very enjoyable evening with Simon.

Edinburgh Day Five: Falkland Palace Gardens And Tennis, 21 August 2018

After Sunday’s long-signalled washout, I had been keeping a close eye on the weather forecast for the rescheduled slot for real tennis at Falkland Palace; late morning Tuesday.

The weather was smiling on us first thing and continued to smile on us for our day in Falkland.

Worrying about the weather for real tennis is an unusual experience, as almost all of the functioning courts are indoors. In fact, the Royal Court at Falkland Palace is currently the only functioning outdoor court in the world. It is also the oldest functioning tennis court in the world.

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Falkland Palace is also home to the most northerly court in the world. Indeed, as neither Janie nor I had previously ventured further north than Glasgow/Livingstone/Edinburgh, our visit to Falkland was also the most northerly place we have yet been.

We allowed plenty of time to get to Falkland, but in truth it is only an hour or so’s drive from our digs in Leith.

We planned to look at the gardens as well as play tennis, but didn’t particularly want to wander around the old pile.

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On arrival, I told the attendant our plans and offered to pay for garden visit tickets, but she told us that we didn’t need to pay to see the garden if we were there for tennis.

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Then we met our hosts; Ewan and Kirsten Lee. An extremely pleasant couple bursting with enthusiasm for the game of real tennis. They had been unable to find a fourth player to join us, so, as planned, Janie gave it a go, despite her inexperience at the game.

I say, “Janie’s inexperience”…that court would make many an experienced dedanist feel like a fresher.

For a start, the design of the court is quite different from any other active court; it is a jeu quarré court, which means that there is no dedans for the receiver to aim at, no penthouse roof at the server’s end and no tambour on the hazard side for the server to aim at.

Instead, the receiver has a small plank of wood, the “ais”, to aim at in the right-hand corner of the server’s court. although hitting the ais only counts as a winning stroke if it hits that feature before the second bounce and without first hitting the gallery penthouse roof.

The other ludicrously tantalising and no-doubt mostly confounding targets for the receiver are four small apertures in the server’s side back wall known, as lunes.

We played a rather one-sided Scotland v England fixture for over two hours and had lots of fun, while only occasionally having long wrests. So passing visitors, of whom there were many during those hours of play, might have been forgiven, when told that there are four lunes on the Falkland Palace tennis court, for mistakenly assuming that the term “four lunes” referred to the players, not to the apertures on the wall.

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The surfaces are also very different at Falkland, the walls and the floor being unpolished stone and the balls, consequently, made with a rougher, more robust felt; another currently unique feature for Falkland.

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Indeed, Ewan added an additional characteristic in the hazard/gallery corner; some salt to make less slippery that part of the floor that gets no sun and therefore remains damp. Dramatic backspin was available for those talented enough or lucky enough to produce it.

For sure luck plays its part to a greater extent even than we see on indoor real tennis courts, but that adds to the fun and of course luck evens out after a while, allowing the better players to prevail, more often than not.

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I am pleased to be able to say that I managed to hit the grille once during our game and that I hit a winning shot to the ais. Both of those aimed and I think I might have had a couple more points from hitting the ais had it not been for Ewan’s determined defending of the ais with his increasingly successful volleys.

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But my moment of glory from the hours of play came from a rather frustrated, wild receiving shot, which I think would have hit the penthouse roof above the dedans on most courts. But on this one occasion at Falkland, my forceful shot went sailing through the lower lune on the main wall side of the server’s wall.

We had a brief discussion on the scoring rule for a lune shot. The most recent incarnation of the Falkland Tennis Club scores a mere point for the lune shot, which is clearly inadequate reward for such a risky and unlikely shot. Ewan announced that the 16th century rule was that a successful lune shot determined the game, so we agreed that particular deuce game had been been won by me and Janie, then moved on in the set.

But on returning to my many ancient texts and manuscripts, I learn that the phrase “determines the game”, in the sixteenth century, could not have referred to a mere single game within a set of tennis…no, no, no…“determines the game”, in those days unquestionably meant, “the side with the most lune shots wins the whole match”.

So despite the fact that the Scottish pair (Ewan and Kirsten) won most of the points, almost all of the games and all of the sets ahead of the intrepid English pair (me and Janie), it seems that, by dint of my single, lucky lune shot, Janie and I won the match. Scotland 0-1 England. An historic win for England over Scotland away at Falkland. Hopefully our opponents will demand a rematch to try their luck again.

In truth, of course, the winner was real tennis; the hours of fun and the conviviality that seems almost always to go along with that wonderful sport.

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We eventually had to stop playing when a large party of schoolchildren arrived on a school trip to see the court and watch people in 16th century fancy dress demonstrating the court. Janie took some photographs.

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We four modern realists retired to The Covenanter across the road for some drinks, snacks and chat. Ewan, who is a schoolteacher, is a great enthusiast for sports, in particular court sports, so he and I schemed about fives (another shared interest) as well as tennis. Kirsten is an artist and designer with a great love of gardens, so she and Janie had plenty to talk about in those departments too.

Much like our recent visit to Petworth, Janie and I lost track of time and ate into far too much of our hosts’ day, for which we are grateful and which didn’t seem to bother our hosts. But on this occasion at Falkland, with no further visits on our itinerary, after saying goodbye to Ewan and Kirsten, we thankfully did find time to look around the beautiful, peaceful garden.

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Highlights include a charming orchard, a small physic garden and also the lovely areas around the house and tennis court.

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We also revisited the tennis court to try to capture some better pictures of the nesting swallows who populate the galleries side of the court.

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On the way home, we stopped off at the David Lloyd Tennis Club on Glasgow Road (what a contrast) to pick up some of those ASICS indoor tennis shoes at that seem so hard to track down at the moment. Stephen at the Bruntsfield Sports concession there was very helpful, although they only had one pair that ticked all of my boxes.

Gosh we felt tired when we got home, but not too tired to go out again after showering to get some protein and carbs inside us by visiting Domenico’s in Leith for a spicy prawn starter and big bowls of the day’s special pasta; venison ragu tagliatelle.

We’d had a really lovely day, not least thanks to Ewan, Kirsten and the wonderful sport of real tennis.

All of our photographs from our week away, mostly at the Edinburgh Fringe, can be seen on our Flickr album by clicking here on the picture below:

2018 August Edinburgh Festival Trip

Two Sweltering Days At Lord’s, The First With Ian Theodoreson, The Second With Rohan Candappa – Part One: With Ian T, 23 July 2018

The wrong Sidebottom?

“You could have said no”, said Daisy, as I prepared to leave Noddyland ridiculously early on a non-working day, with reference to the 9:00 game of real tennis I had agreed to play as a late substitute, in addition to my 10:00 game. “Two hours of singles on the hottest day of the year is not a very bright idea”.

“I’ll drink plenty of water,” I mumbled.

Two challenging hours they proved to be; one against a newbie whose handicap has clearly not yet settled in its firmament way beyond my level, then my anticipated hour against a familiar adversary with whom I tend to have very close battles. Today was a very tight battle until the last 15-20 minutes which went resoundingly his way. The experience probably did more for my strength and conditioning for tournament play than it did for my confidence.

Action shot from an earlier occasion

My guest for the cricket today was Ian “Iain Spellright” Theodoreson, whose previous visit to Lord’s with me had been the historic Jimmy Anderson 500 day – Day Two of the West Indies Test last year:

Three Days At The Lord’s Test, England v West Indies, 7 to 9 September 2017

Soon after that 2017 visit, Ian gave up full time work and disappeared for a gap year with his good lady, Sally. I love the rationale behind the Ian and Sally gap year; such things had barely been invented when we were younger (or rather, they were beyond the means of most), whereas their kids had taken gap years before starting formal work; why shouldn’t Ian and Sally have a gap year when concluding their formal careers?

Anyway, they went to New Zealand, then Japan and then – or should I say, at the time of writing, now – the canals of England. This adventure, which Ian and Sally have almost completed, they are blogging as Living In Hope…

…not to be confused with The Rutles classic, Living In Hope:

…here and below are sample postings from Ian and Sally’s Living In Hope:

Blue apples and heated toilet seats

So Ian thought he had his work cut out pulling together suitable attire for the pavilion, given that his former life possessions are mostly in crates…

…except that, being Ian, he had kept one business suit and tie accessible for “just in case” – and this was such a case.

More challenging, for me, was the space in the pavilion guest book where the member records the visitor’s address. I have often wondered whether anyone ever pays heed to this box, which is often filled in with only the scantiest details…

…indeed I would question its GDPR compliance these days – organisations are not supposed to record personal details they don’t need…

…anyway, I merely wrote “canal boat” as the address in the book, so I am living in hope that no-one hauls me over the coals for some rule breach or another; not least the rule that says “though shalt not bring persons of no fixed abode into the pavilion as guests”.

Ian had never been in the pavilion before, which surprised me as I know he has quite a few MCC members in his circle. Still, this gave me an opportunity to give him an informal guided tour and witness a cricket lover taking great pleasure in watching cricket from the inner sanctum that is the Lord’s pavilion.

Ian was a little disappointed, though, with Ryan Sidebottom. He was expecting a hairy Yorkshireman who used to play for England, not a tidy-looking Victorian who used to play for Victoria.

Side on, Sidebottom

So, to please Ian and Ryan Sidebottom fans generally, here are two short vids of recently-retired Yorkshireman Ryan Sidebottom’s biggest moment; his hat trick against New Zealand in 2008 – a “language-strewn” hand-held shot of the moment (which I have discovered on YouTube) follows:

The second of these vids is one of the most absurd/extraordinary stop-frame animation films I have ever seen – by Are You A Left-Arm Chinaman? – the Ryan Sidebottom hat-trick starts around 3:30 and is well worth waiting for or sliding the dial towards:

But I digress.

Dewey-eyed I was, as we stood up soon after the umpires called lunch; not with emotion you understand, but two hours of tennis followed by those rump-racking pavilion benches was telling its toll.

Actually we decided to stick around that pavilion spot and continue munching cashews and taking on water, until about twenty minutes after lunch, by which time there is usually room to sit reasonably comfortably in the long room bar and take some proper lunch. Bap of the day was a wonderful pork jobbie with crackling and a sort-of sausage meat stuffing to add to the general porkiness. I had a glass of white while Ian opted for a beer.

After lunch, Ian fancied trying the new Warner Stand, where the seats are far more comfy than the pavilion and the view is still very good. Then, come tea-time, we returned to the pavilion, enabling me to conclude Ian’s guided tour of the pavilion with the upstairs bits, ending up on the top deck, where we enjoyed a cuppa and a breeze to provide slight relief from the heat of the day.

Ian needed to leave an hour or so before stumps, whereas I fancied seeing that last hour of cricket, so we parted company at the pavilion door – I decided to watch the last hour from the comfort of the Warner Stand seats.

It had been really pleasant to catch up with Ian over lunch and cricket; not least because chatting about some of his gap year experiences added an element of colour that no blog (not even Ogblog) can provide.

When I got to the Warner Stand, I spotted Ed Griffiths watching solo and asked him if he minded me joining him. He didn’t. I hadn’t really watched cricket with him before, despite having spent a fair amount of time with him, not least over the London Cricket Trust initiative. While it was very interesting to watch and discuss cricket together, unfortunately Middlesex’s improving position went into reverse while we were watching together, leaving matters seeming very precarious overnight.

Here is a link to the scorecard for the whole match; the denouement was destined to play out on Day Three, most of which I was to spend with Rohan Candappa – a link to that day can be found here and below:

Two Sweltering Days At Lord’s, The First With Ian Theodoreson, The Second With Rohan Candappa – Part Two: With Rohan C, 24 July 2018

Bad Hair Afternoon: Tennis Followed By Middlesex v Somerset, 19 July 2018

Since Jez Horne left Z/Yen, he and I have a rather shocking record of planning to meet up for a T20 match at Lord’s on a day that turns out to be rainy.

We expected no such problem in this glorious summer of 2018 and, as luck would have it, Jez was available on one of the few T20 evenings I can manage this season.

I arranged to play tennis at 15:00, giving me plenty of time to sauna, shower, spruce myself up and bagsy some good pavilion seats.

My opponent for the afternoon, Bill Taylor, is one of my favourite adversaries; although I tend to come off second best against him, we nearly always have an epic battle along the way.

We had an exceptionally good first set, which took almost the whole hour. Playing level, the pesky ninth game went to deuce upon deuce upon deuce…

…upon deuce…you get the idea. But in the end Bill prevailed, both in that game and then the set and match.

I took my time over warming down and my ablutions. As I was just preparing to leave the changing room, John Stephenson (MCC Director of Cricket) and Guy Lavender (the new MCC Chief Executive) emerged from one of the squash courts. They were discussing the pavilion dress code and the practicalities around the “jackets allowed off in hot weather” rule.

I was putting the finishing touches on my tie, jacket and general pavilion aesthetic look when, horror of horrors, I realised that I had come out without a comb in my linen suit’s jacket pocket and had used a kit bag that also lacks one of my emergency combs.

My hair probably looked a little like the following photo, taken at the end of a victorious tennis skills night eighteen months ago…

…perhaps a little worse when combined with a jacket and tie.

“Just as well you don’t have a bad hair rule for the pavilion”, I said “I have come out without a comb”.

“No we don’t, but don’t worry, there will be a bad hair rule in time for your next visit”, said Guy with a smile.

It reminded me a little of my interaction with Ian Lovett over Daisy’s embarrassing pavilion socks-for-gloves-donning incident several years ago, explained towards the end of my report on King Cricket here and below:

Middlesex v Australians match report

“My next visit will be on Monday”, I said.

Guy’s smile widened a little forcedly, as if to say, “…and your point is?…”

“I’ll bring a comb,” I conceded. Need to stay on the right side of the new Chief Exec, I thought.

Jez is not exactly the sartorial type…he used to hang out with Barmy Kev for gawd’s sake…so I didn’t need to make any any excuses or explanations to him. He seemed pleased with my choice of “right up front” seat.

As always, it was good to catch up with Jez. He and his burgeoning family have recently relocated to…

…coincidentally given my visit a couple of days earlier…

A Day Out In Sussex: Petworth, Then Hove, 17 July 2018

…Hove.

We chatted about cricket. We chatted a bit about work. We chatted about…

…trigger warning…

…geeky statistics, operational research and machine learning stuff.

We both brought nibbles of the “old style Z/Yen gathering” variety with us – in my case parcel-type bites from M&S, in Jez’s case from Sainsbury. I had brought a mini bottle (250 ml) of Sancerre for myself – that should last the evening on a warm night; Jez managed a few bottles of quality beer. I remember Badger and Theakstons Old Peculiar as two of the labels.

We watched Middlesex start well with the bat, seem to get bogged down, finish better, then watched Somerset do all that with quite a bit more purpose than Middlesex.

Pain junkies (Middlesex) and glory seekers (Somerset) click here for all the details.

Still, we had a very pleasant evening together, parting company at Marylebone.

A Day Out In Sussex: Petworth, Then Hove, 17 July 2018

The New Petworth Tennis Mural

One of the very good things about real tennis is the extent to which it seems to be a community of enthusiasts. To such an extent that, when you meet and play realists from other clubs – as often you do at Lord’s – they seem keen to welcome you at their places.

Example: back in the winter, I played at Lord’s against Mark Bradshaw, a member at Petworth, who has quite recently taken up the sport more seriously having only dabbled previously – rackets was more his game.  Mark said, after our good game, that Petworth was being refurbished at the moment but that he would like me to visit for a game once the refurb was done. I said I would very much like to do that.

I thought little of the matter again until I received, in the spring, out of the blue, a kind e-mail from Mark reminding me of our conversation and wondering whether I really was interested. The suggested timing, as it happened, worked out well for Janie, so we hatched a plan to go to both Petworth and Hove in a day, so we might visit Sidney and Joan later.

The plan soon became a reality. Janie and I half-planned to get to Petworth early enough to have a look at the gardens of the old house as well, but by the time we found the tennis court entrance (the postcode sent Waze and therefore me to the wrong entrance)…

I’ll Recognise The Entrance Next Time

…and then spent some time with a few of the charming Petworth Club members who showed us their mural (above) and the spelling challenges they faced with the donations board (below)…

He Who Would Valiant Be…

…we realised that a more realistic pastime ahead of my tennis match would be a wander around the village and the purchase of a plant or flowers for Sidney and Joan.

Petworth has plenty of art galleries and arty shops. Janie spotted some rather tasteful hand-blown coloured tumblers that she fancied as water glasses. By the time we had completed the non-trivial task of choosing each of the six she wanted – each was a different colour and had a different amount of bubbling-effect – it was time to move on to the next non-trivial task; choosing a plant or flowers for Sidney and Joan:

Choosing that splendid plant wasn’t as easy as it looks

Then back to the Petworth Real Tennis Club:

Can I hear banging on the roof?

It seems like a really friendly club. John Ritblat was one of the main movers and shakers in achieving the major refurb, which includes modern changing rooms and a charming kitchen and breakout area. The people who had been playing before us had brought a picnic lunch with them and were enjoying a convivial post-play repast while we played.

I found the Petworth surface very difficult to come to terms with in the first set, but made a bit more of a fist of it in the second.

Mark has come on leaps and bounds since we last played; his rackets background making him wicked fast around the court and able to get most balls, good or bad ones, back. My problems getting used to the surfaces were multiplied by his technique, in which he boasts the ball of multiple walls quite regularly.

Janie has a strange knack of shooting a little bit of video on points that I tend win. She very rarely captures one of my many losing points. She doesn’t delete stuff from the gizmo at the time; it’s just a strange statistical thing. So I can safely ascertain that I would win all my matches if she videoed all of them in their entirety. Perhaps I should kit her out with a proper video camera and have her with me for all my games…

…anyway, the match didn’t go my way at Petworth but we did get a good game in the end; the second set was tight.

Then lunch. Mark and Henrietta recommended The Hungry Guest which was indeed an excellent choice.

Mark certainly looks happy with his choice…

…in fact, everyone looks happy.

It is a glorious summer this year; the opportunity to eat and chat al fresco on occasions such as this is one not to be missed.

In fact, we ate and chatted so fervently, that we all lost track of time. Mark then suddenly realised the time and we hurriedly said our goodbyes to enable him to get to a 16:00 appointment.

Meanwhile Janie and I worked out that we really didn’t have time to take in the Petworth Gardens on this visit, so we had a coffee and mellowed out before hitting the road to Hove, for a family visit, privately Ogblogged.