V&A PLAYERS:Nicky Bird (captain), Christiaan Jonkers, Martin Bowden, Nick Emley, Enzo Nicoli, Tom Bird, Ross Ashcroft, Ben Horan, Nick Constantine, Lachlan Nieboer, Jago Poynter

The Hermits have been a fixture in the V&A diary since day dot. I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t born when the club was founded, but there you go. Dear Leader N. Bird is seldom wrong on these things. He seldom adds a postscript to match reports either, so The Hermits must be a popular lot!

It was damned hot. One of the hotter days I can recall at Stonor in recent memory, even by comparison to that heatwave of yester summer, which lives long in the memory of many a cricketer. Halcyon days have not been on the order of service this summer. Nick Emley announced himself to be “a bit hot”, and probably was talking about the weather – you can never tell.

The V&A were to bat. Quite why The Hermits decided to take the field in blistering heat, with some uninitiated cricketers wearing shorts is beyond me. What was even more absurd was the insistence on opposition skipper Terry Blake’s part of taking an hour to bowl ten overs. Tinkering with the field is something of an art, at the best of times; on this occasion however, it would appear more for want of something to do as a distraction, rather than tactics.

The start was subdued. Poynter (0) got a gem, which nipped back and clipped his stumps. Constantine (5) was out shortly after to Bevan, leaving Ashcroft (74) struggling to bat alongside the much envied youth element of the V&A. Emley (14, retired hurt) began well. In the scorebook, his innings resembles an arboretum: all ones. Emley’s achilles tendon went. He soldiered on until lunch before throwing in the towel. Jerry Bevan’s calf muscle went on the last ball of his seven over spell. Bruno Wollheim failed to deliver a ball (his first attempt in fifteen years) because his calf went in the delivery stride too.

The cricket? Crocked. The over rate? Crocked. Everybody: crocked. So we had lunch instead.

At the V&A it is widely held that all lunches are created equal. All of our caterer’s are masters of the art. But, on this occasion, I must admit that when one hears that Jane is catering, the day becomes more about consumption than it does cricket. Nick Emley tends to hold that its no shock, because Jane’s a professional chef. The Radio Bird gossip segment tends to broadcast to the opposition that Jane’s the Queen’s personal chef and once cooked for Che Guevara (unconfirmed). Anyway, the food was superb. We are continuously spoiled by those that feed us and I, along with everyone present at Stonor last weekend, enjoyed lunch enormously. Thank you, dear Jane. Because we are so spoiled, we also rather ruined Tea, by taking it three quarters of an hour late. Do forgive us, but we could quite stomach the idea of one innings lasting two sessions of the day.

After lunch, Horan (21) timed the ball nicely, Ashcroft finally fell LBW (having announced his intention to retire at the end of the over because of the heat). Was he triggered by Umpire Emley for the sake of it? No. If it’s out, it’s given. Fair is fair. Talking of triggering, applause must go to Jago Poynter, who has been banned from umpiring for a long time. The yips used to get him, and he has a dreadful grasp of the LBW laws, but he managed two stints as Umpire without giving anyone out. Welcome back to the fold, Jago.

Bird (27) batted with elan, and was well set until his laboured hoick proved an excellent stumping chance. Jonkers (19) played elegantly through the offside until he, too, was stumped. He took pains to remind me after I had given him out that the keeper took the ball in front of the stumps. In return, I apologised and admitted that I was so shocked by the dexterity of the keeper that the rules of the game were far from my mind.

Enter Nieboer (57*) Stage direction? Sort of. Nicky Bird has done a nice little bit about the lad in a post script, so I wont. Suffice it to say that he has a bloody good tan, should wear a linen shirt to bat more often, and that Florence agrees with him.

The V&A set an imposing 231 to win. The Hermits decided to bat for the draw, which is unfathomable in a limited overs game. It was still bloody hot, and most of us wanted to climb into an ice cold pint at 6PM down The Golden Ball. It was not to be.

Enzo Nicoli (1-25 off 7) bowled with his customary accuracy, finding pockets of life in a pitch that had offered nothing to anyone else. Constantine (0-13 off 7) took the new ball at the other end. Bruno Wollheim (33*), erstwhile of the V&A and resplendent in his white flat cap, batted obdurately and would go on to carry his bat for the entire 35 overs of The Hermits innings. Quite the feat.

Bowden (0-7 off 2) had the ball on a string, as is so often the case. Before you could say boo to a ghost, thirteen overs had been bowled and it was time for Tea with The Hermits having survived, wicketless, for not very many runs.

After Tea, Horan (1-15 off 5) dismissed the dangerous Campbell with a low full toss. Jonkers (3-14 off 7) took two wickets in an over, and didn’t do any more damage to his knee. Nicoli came back and took a good one. Nieboer (0-17 off 5) bowled extremely quickly and did some damage to wicketkeeper Ashcroft’s hand, so I took over, and stumped someone off Poynter in the last over of the game, with The Hermits finishing on 105-6 from their 35 overs.

So after a hiatus, having lost two fixtures to lack of availability on both our part and the opposition, The V&A are back to winning ways. Next, The Authors XI! I now make way for Nicky Bird, who has offered a post script for the occasion.

Nicky Bird writes:

 I AM MINDED to contribute a postscript to mention one or two things.

 The HERMITS are, with the Chelsea Arts Club, our oldest opponents, in every sense. Some of the team they mustered on Saturday are nearing retirement. Some should have been retired. Others have mellowed; Jerry Bevan is a poor imitation of the abrasive curmudgeon he used to be. Mark Palmer was not playing so there was no volcano waiting to erupt but Terry takes no lip in the field and can mix it. But the Dartons father and son (who used to play for us) are charming company. One or two Hermits had never played cricket before but were willing if not able. Terry did a magnificent job in just getting a team together. I had said that a third cancellation in a row was not an option.

 He made an odd decision to send in to umpire a bloke unversant with the laws of the game. Christiaan, who is Woosterish off the field but Genghis Khan with a ball in his hand, gave him an earful and suggested that he might be replaced. He was. Stranger in a way was the Hermits’ game plan, in which they ensured they would spend most of the day toiling in the field – by footling with fielding positions and ambling between overs – and then failed to smack the ball to try and keep up with the run rate, or get out and get to the pub. I missed the pub because of the lateness of the finish. But at least they had some batting practice, and it was nice to see the erudite and urbane Bruno Wollheim turn out (and carry his bat), almost 50 years after his debut for the Hermits. We poached him years ago, but he was happy to leave a team he found altogether ‘too butch’. In the V&A he found a more genteel mix of arty types who knew their Guercino and guacamole.

 A word about Lachlan, who is what Dennis was, a huge asset with bat and ball. He went to bed at 3.30 on Saturday morning in Florence having been playing cards with the lovely Olympia; he rose at 6 to rush to Florence airport for the flight to Stansted; he caught the bus to London, dashed for his car and drove madly to Stonor where he arrived in time to score over 50 in perhaps 30 balls*. What a man. The trick – and I commend this – is that he is sober. Tom Bird pointed out that it is the only way one can go to bed at 3.30 and rise at 6. He has never tried it himself.

 Martin Bowden was crocked but game. He bowled as well. He took some substance for his ailments at teatime which helped ease the pain. Others did too but had no excuse.

 A word too about Enzo. Our distinguished Thespian. Currently in a bagel advert with Robert de Niro, Enzo having been somewhat typecast as a Wop gangster. Bob got £1m per day, Enzo rather less. We had an interesting discussion about whether Wop or Eyetie is the more insulting. He was happy with either.

 My own performance was undistinguished but I was first in the queue at lunch. It is sad testimony to age that several players conked out during the day – Wollheim, Emley, Bevan. Terblanche gamely turned up to support with his beautiful wife and baby but was also crocked because he hurt his foot kicking a baby gate and then his dog stepped on it. Wollheim tried bowling an over (he used to be fast and accurate). He fell over after one ball and that was it. One of their bowlers bowled 6 wides and retired. But it wasn’t the coarse cricket that alarmed but the injuries. It cannot be long before every batsman needs a runner and the runner needs a runner. If Eastbourne is God’s Waiting Room, the pavilion at Stonor is runner-up.

*Actually 57* off 21 balls (Ed.).