V&A Christiaan Jonkers (SKIP), Adam Jacot, Chris M-T (CATERER), Nick Scott-Ram, Christy Kulasingam, Will Carpmael, George Carpmael, John Clayman, Enzo Nicoli, Max Martin, Andrew Wayland, Robin Hayley (PLAYING FOR RAEDARII)

SIMON BARNES, late of The Times and doyen of sports writers, used to play for the V&A and was a good hater. His heroes were Homer Simpson (‘I don’t know much about art but I know what I hate’) and W.C. Fields (‘I like children – fried’). Apart from split infinitives he also hated the languid school of cricketer, the Plum Warners and Douglas Jardines(‘MCC at its worst’), the sort who loaf in cravats and wear a striped tie as a belt. I once accused Simon of being a bit chippy. ‘Jesus was a chippy,’ he replied which I thought a non-sequitur. Christiaan Jonkers, who I revere, is the Plum Warner de nos jours and commanded our team in mufti, deigning to change into trad whites only when taking the field. Apparently, he wears a tie as a belt to keep his trousers up. Good reason. But he lacks a cravat, pipe and blazer so is a sort of faux flâneur. He went to the Olympics with his girls and took them to see some culture, some Impressionists. They reckoned Renoir couldn’t draw for toffee. I took some clients to see Michelangelo recently and explained that he painted the Sistine Ceiling. ‘Why?’ Because it needed a coat or two, I suggested.

Raedarii CC were short. One player rang their skip late Friday to say he’d rather go to a footy match. We supplied 5 players and two subs. That a wonderful day in the sun was enjoyed was thanks to the saintly Chris Mounsey-Thear and Adam Jacot, who chivvied and corralled a quorum.

We batted first (with the Carpmaels) and faced pretty benign bowling on a dead pitch. Although they dropped catches, the ones that Robin Hayley caught (to dismiss both openers) were fantastic – he’s not in the first flush of youth but wiry and fit, despite an indulgent past. The star of our innings was Christy, a fine batsman with a Goweresque late cut, ably supported by the power of Wayland (48). Christy scored an impeccable 103* and then retired himself. Jacot (9*) and John Clayman (23*) drove classically to bring up a total of 230 off our 35 overs.

At lunch I chatted to Robin Hayley’s exotic lady friend in a fetching see-through smock (she, not me). I asked her name. I thought she said it was like a tea so I suggested ‘Tetley’ or ‘Earl Grey’, but she said no, it is ‘Tee’. She was having house problems. I offered her my room with me in it but she declined, not just because I was a boor but she didn’t like the post code. M-T’s catering was superb. As I said in my words of appreciation, he is a Renaissance Man – epicurean, athlete, thinker… a combination of Schwarzenegger and Schweitzer. I mentioned that Raedarii could use M-T’s PR skills to increase numbers, and that a plug in the Daily Telegraph Court Circular helps, but you need double-barrelled names, of which we have an abundance, Jonkers excepted. But I’m sorry I called him a Dutchman of yeoman stock because he’s actually Belgian.

Raedarii’s innings started well and they kept out Mounsey-Thear and Max Martin until they reached 24. Then Max bowled their opener and M-T (2 for 13) got two quick wickets and they never recovered. Max, of the Coldstream Guards, is the sort of bloke that makes you sleep at night, knowing Putin’s steamroller will be kept at bay by this polite subaltern. Andrew Wayland was the pick of our bowlers with three wickets (for 9 runs), all bowled, and Jacot was mean and accurate for his wicket (5 overs, 15 runs). They were all out for 102. Not exactly a gladiatorial contest but who wants that?

It was enough to sit in the sun in the Chilterns listening to the sound of the kites and scoffing Chris’s scrumptious tea. Pure Enid Blyton. As a Spitfire flew over, and our openers ambled out, I was reminded of the hot summer of ’39, of Billy Bunter, the England of corn stooks, of Chamberlain and ‘Peace in our time’… until woken up by Jonkers telling me to umpire. I put myself forward for any job in his second-hand bookstore (I need the money, and luncheon vouchers). He looks for an interest in books and literature, which is me. But he queried my age. However, you can’t do that nowadays, it’s illegal. He may also question my capacity for work and propriety, but that is surely discrimination against the inept, idle and foul-mouthed. And no one should be refused just because they’re dodgy and useless, or the V&A would be a very thin team.