ONE OF THOSE TRICKY MORNINGS when the forecast is iffy and Martin rings from near the ground to say a storm is heading for the pitch. But we decided to go for it and off to Morrisons I went at 8 to get the BBQ ingredients, following a last minute call to Andy Fraser to bring him out of retirement to make our eleventh man. When I got to the ground, with Ernie the chef, all was looking pretty and the sun was out. We had a lovely day, most of it in sunshine, only marred by a single squall. We batted first in a 35 over game skippered by Martin. Things went badly. Adam was out caught behind, after some pantomime juggling by their keeper David Odgers, for 4 just after smiting a mighty boundary. Christiaan was bowled for 6 by Buckland, their lofty Old Etonian all rounder, the […]

A DODGY START to the day with threatening clouds, a wet pitch and no captain –Tom Bird was looking for his kit apparently, which was odd as his kit is one box and a pair of whiteish trousers. I tossed up in a 35 over game with their skipper George Winters, lost, and they elected to bat. Sensible decision, the pitch was going to play nicely by the afternoon. This was very much a family affair. Their XI boasted two Winters brothers, both very good batsmen, and father Martin who played for Harrow, albeit when Stanley Baldwin was PM. On our side we had my nephew Tom and me, and his son Cassius, nearly three, who brought his bat. His fielding would have been useful. Someone said that Adam is deceptive in the field, he looks slow, but is in fact very very slow. This is unkind and I promised […]

Rupert Morris did everything, captained, catered (very nicely) and collected the money. Unfortunately this Renaissance Man buggered his knee bending down to pick up a ball and had to hand over the captaincy to Dennis, while he, Rupert, scored. There was a hushed debate about whether he or Adam is the more confused scorer, both having a problem with scoring AND talking, rather like Gerald Ford had a problem with chewing gum and farting at the same time (according to LBJ). The day started badly for some. For the opposition it started badly because they had only 7 players, and 11 is the fashionable number. Sunil had rustled up Dino and a Kiwi, Wayne, who played for them and did well. Sunil himself did the noble thing and was sub fielder for most of our innings and caught the V&A’s star batsman on the boundary. For Peter Linthwaite it started […]

Nice to be back on a lovely Spring day, everything much the same except for a new white boundary rope. The nets are to have new nets, I’m told. They’re a bit bedraggled. But not the opposition who had 8 men under 30, and one fit, lithe woman (Issy) with bottle and technique. We, on the other hand, had but one man under 30, Alex Padmore, Rupert’s godson. We would have been even more decrepit if Peter Linthwaite had elected to play, but he turned up nursing some injury, saw that Sam Asielue had brought a spare Nigerian, and elected to return home. It didn’t help that I was tactless, saying partly in jest that it was a tough call for our skipper (Martin Bowden) if he had to choose – strictly on cricketing grounds – between an effete white man of pensionable age, and a virile Nigerian. On a […]