Ged writes:
It was a strange, bittersweet day, 10 April 2015. I woke up looking forward to buying in provisions ahead of Monday, which was to be my first day of cricket of the year – a traditional early season visit to Lord’s with Charley The Gent Malloy. Indeed, this year the tradition continues even down to the same two teams at play. But soon after rising, I learnt that Richie Benaud had died that morning, which put rather a dampener on my spirits.
Still, by late afternoon I had got my work done and also had convinced myself that Richie would have wanted me to lift my spirits and prepare for the new cricket season, as planned. So I dug out my picnic bag, stuck the picnic crocks in the dishwasher along with the breakfast things, donned my new titfer and headed off in the direction of the shops.
Charley is very particular about his favourite picnic foods. A few years ago he became partial to my wild Alaskan smoked salmon bagels or sandwiches, but these last couple of years I could never find an example of the Pacific species of salmon in M&S or Waitrose. I raised this important matter with Daisy over the Easter and she informed me that Tesco seems to have bought up the entire UK import quota of the smoked stuff.
But could I bring myself to set foot in a Tesco Metro en route to the Mini M&S? And would such a place stock the cherished sockeye comestibles? As I got near to the grocery-store block, I asked myself “what would Richie have done?” and concluded that he would have given Tesco Metro a try in these circumstances. I entered. The place seemed quite unfamiliar – nothing like the Little Waitrose and Mini M&S. Where on earth might they put the wild Alaskan smoked salmon, if indeed they stock it at all in this size of branch?
I considered asking a member of staff, but then went through my “what would Richie have done?” thought process and concluded that Richie was a real man. Real men NEVER EVER ask directions, not even in Tesco Metro. Anyway, there was little or no sign of staff to be found. And then, as if guided by a celestial spirit, I happened upon the very aisle and the very refrigerated shelf in that aisle which contained the smoked variety of the Oncorhynchus in question (nerka). I considered letting out a bestial roar at that juncture, but that didn’t feel very Richie. I also considered gently adjusting my trousers and shaking hands with a few nearby fielders, but that didn’t seem quite right in Tesco. Had it been Waitrose, then handshakes and polite applause for the departing salmon (unfortunately caught) would have seemed perfectly in order.
Yet there was still one more fiendish ordeal for me to negotiate before I could progress to M&S for the rest of my shopping. The queue for the regular checkout was extensive, but the dreaded self- service checkout machines were unoccupied. What would Richie have done in this circumstance? “You have to take chances in this game of life,” said my inner Richie. “Those machines are 90 per cent luck, 10 per cent skill, but don’t try it without the 10 per cent skill.”
I convinced myself that I must have at least 10 per cent of the skill required to operate such a machine, so put my basket down, bracing myself for the automated reprimands about bagging areas and unexpected objects. As if from nowhere, the one free-floating member of staff appeared beside me and asked me not to use that vacant machine but to use one of the others, because she needed to do something on “my” machine. This intervention seemed excessive, given that I only had one item to buy, but I was exiled to the other bank of vacant machines, to be robotically reproached by a machine other than the one of my choosing.
Yet I emerged having purchased my goods and progressed to M&S. There I bought the other items I needed and also bought some little packets of wheat-free tortilla chips. I always thought that tortilla chips were made of corn anyway, but apparently wheat free ones are a special thing. Old friends of me and Charley will know of a legendary shopping trip while at Edgbaston a few years ago, when Charley and I debated vociferously the relative virtues (in Charley’s case) or evils (in my case) of Doritos as picnic food. “Like an old married couple rowing” was the cruel but perhaps not unfair description. Anyway, these little bags are not Doritos, they are M&S wheat free tortilla chips with lime zest etc. – which is an entirely different thing. Guaranteed to raise a continuity smile, if not a laugh, come Monday. Richie Benaud would have liked that touch.
Send your match reports to king@kingcricket.co.uk. If it’s a professional match, on no account mention the cricket itself. If it’s an amateur match, feel free to go into excruciating detail.
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June 15, 2015 at 9:14 am
Your photograph doesn’t look like I’d thought it would.
June 15, 2015 at 7:44 pm
I expected to be disturbed by the image and wasn’t disappointed. I am now in full “what would RIchie do” mode. Respect.
P.S. That Charley seems a right pernickety sod! Such idiosyncrasies wouldn’t be tolerated at Edgbaston, where we go. It is straight into the Newsagents for a cheese roll and be done with it. Soft Southerners.
June 15, 2015 at 2:53 pm
Funny looking ear ring.
June 15, 2015 at 4:07 pm
There are seven species within Oncorhynchus (salmon) that populate Pacific waters: pink, coho, sockeye, spring/chinook, chum, cutthroat and steelhead. I’m interested to know which varieties are stocked by Tesco.
June 15, 2015 at 4:09 pm
It’s ok. I looked it up and nerka is indeed sockeye. I had never heard it called nerka.
June 15, 2015 at 5:12 pm
Is that a salmonelfie?
June 15, 2015 at 6:56 pm
When the social history of our media-obsessed era is written, I suspect that the selfie will be one of its more baffling anthropological dead ends, along with ice buckets and One Direction.
I doubt very much whether a selfie is what Richie would have done in any circumstances.
Actually the picture wasn’t meant to be a selfie, I just somehow ended up photobombing my own photograph of assembled produce.
Apologies for my unexpected look, Balladeer. When a proper photographer takes my picture I look more like Brad Pitt, which I should imagine is more the look you were expecting.
Apologies also for the strange reflection on my ear, Chuck – it does indeed look like a massive diamond ear stud, which (sadly) I neither possess nor wear. Pity, really.
Fine species for eating, the sockeye or nerka salmon. Smokes beautifully. Delicious poached (unsmoked) in a banana leaf, too, as reported last year without the exact species details:
http://www.kingcricket.co.uk/middlesex-second-xi-v-essex-second-xi-at-radlett/2014/08/26/
June 17, 2015 at 3:05 am
So you’re not Imran Khan? Damn you.
In the grand old days a 1978/79 World Series Cricket poster (laminated) graced the toilet wall at my house, back then my 3 year old daughter would point to Imran and say “daddy”. We have a new house now with one of those fancy “bathroom” rooms – and as such it does not have a wall suitable for a 1978/79 World Series cricket poster (laminated).
So – you are not me and neither of us are Imran Khan. Damn you again.
June 17, 2015 at 6:22 am
My historic lookalike was King Faisal I of Iraq, not Imran Khan: http://cdn.spectator.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/This-Faisal-275×413.jpg
I tried to get a King Faisal aqal and headcloth when we went to Oman last year – I thought it would accentuate my regal look and go well with my natty thobes. But the duty free at Dubai airport is hopeless these days – just jewellery and gimcrack. No cricket shop either.
June 16, 2015 at 12:36 am
Now I worry that Richie did the ice bucket challenge, do you think he would? and did it contribute to his death?
June 17, 2015 at 1:58 am
What would Richie do with a bag of M&S wheat free tortilla chips with lime zest etc?. Does he get a choice of dips?
June 17, 2015 at 6:23 am
No dips required for those says Ged, the lime zest does the job. That’s what Richie would have said too.