Gravesend Grasses v Dungeness Sea Kales

As Fixture Secretary of Gravesend CC 5ths I am happy to record that there are only two remaining fixtures to arrange for the 2013 season.

Gravesend CC 5ths are a wandering, ball supplying sociable side ranging from weak through to medium/weak. It used to be the 4ths but when Gravesend CC introduced a fourth Saturday league side it became the 5ths.

The 4ths sported the name of 'Gravesend Shrimpers' celebrating Gravesend's historical links to the Shrimping industry. On becoming the 5ths a conversation amongst the regular players and club officials arose in a Gravesend Ale House with regard to whether the name 'Gravesend Shrimpers' should be retained.

Other names were put forward for consideration. Having gone down the Saturday hierarchical ladder 'Gravesend Whelkers' was one of them. 'Gravesend Grasses' was another. This stemmed from the fact that the Bat & Ball Ground was formerly a market garden specialising in growing asparagus. Indeed it was grown so extensively in the area that asparagus was known as 'Gravesend Grass'

Surprisingly maybe, the latter name found a good deal of favour but was not officially put forward to the main committee. Indeed after the final drop of 'Gravesend Shrimpers' real ale was swigged back the topic did not arise again.

One of the regulars who had taken a particular liking to the 'Gravesend Shrimpers' on tap at the pub suggested that I approach the Brewery to enquire whether there was any chance of them sponsoring the 5ths. The slogan was to be 'Gravesend Shrimpers sponsored by Gravesend Shrimpers'. The matter was not pursued.

As with many such situations confusion arose. The name 'Gravesend Grasses' was forwarded to some clubs. It was only when a Metropolitan Police side wrote to me offering a fixture, together with a promise of 'a tea you would die for' and 'free overnight accommodation for all your players' that alarm bells began to ring.

I have not read Gravesend CC's Constitution lately but I suspect because there was a quorum in the forum at the pub the name of 'Gravesend Grasses' like the Barmy Army's Leader's name might need to be changed by Deed Poll.

Back to the remaining gaps in 2013 for the Gravesend Grasses viz. Saturday's June 1st and September 28th. Fellow Gravesend Shrimpers drinkers in the forum also asked for a tour to be arranged, perhaps against a like minded opposition. With only two slots, and tours potentially expensive and difficult to include the colts who constitute a quarter of the side, a compromise needs to be found.

Dungeness may provide the answer. It is not a million miles away from Gravesend, and Gravesend Grasses already have fixtures against Wittersham and Stone-in-Oxney which are near neighbours to Dungeness. Hence any players who cannot or do not want to stay away for a night can return to Gravesend after the match as per normal and not be too late to bed.

For those players wishing to make a weekend of it, cheap and well tried out accommodation is available with the plethora of caravan sites in the area. There are fishermen in the side who would like nothing better than to launch their lines from the shingle at Dungeness which is second in line only to Cape Canaveral in line and length of shingle and has a rocket shaped Lighthouse that any ringers we get from the 2nds can leg up if they feel the need for a pre-match warm-up.

If as is probable the fishermen do not catch any fish, either The Britannia or The Pilot Inn will provide a fish supper the like of which will be talked about for many a year especially by the quorum who no doubt will wash it down with more than relish.

The Romney Hythe and Dymchurch Railway can provide transport to and from the cricket ground if we have to play at an adjoining club's ground. I have seen a wedding party use the RH&D train on a previous occasion and I'm sure one of the carriages was in fact a bar. I'll check with Michael Portillo.

In terms of 'a like minded opposition' I have done some research. Dungeness is famed for its unique flora and fauna including the Sea Kale (pictured) with its intoxicating blue green foliage. In a Guardian article in March 2004 Sea kale is described as 'a beautiful plant, changing dramatically through the seasons; the shoots are said to taste better than asparagus, but the plants are very long lived and accumulate stray radiation.'

What could be better? The Gravesend Grasses is a team that also changes dramatically through the season with raids from the teams above and variable availability from the 'one off' players together with any ringers that the quorum are able to Press Gang into playing unless of course it is The Three Daws public house where the forum are contemplating as there is a Naval tradition that it is never to be raided by a press gang.

The Grasses XI does contain some of the longest lived members of Gravesend Cricket Club and would probably be better suited to play Dungeness B rather than Dungeness A if the A team can't get a side together because of any sickness due to any stray radiation missed by the Sea Kale.

I'm not so sure about Sea Kale tasting better than Gravesend Grass. There's the challenge then, Gloria. Dungeness Sea Kales v Gravesend Grasses to take place on Saturday June 1st or Saturday September 28th 2013. Venue to be decided.

So if you are a cricket club or a group of cricketers in or near Dungeness who can take up the challenge, please get in contact. The losing side will have to ceremoniously eat the opposition at the end of the game. The Gravesend Grasses will bring a ball and plenty of asparagus as we don't expect to be eating Sea Kale.

One Through the Gate is hot off the Press

Up with the lark. The Early Bird if not holidaying in Seville and off to Cadiz later would have had to scrape a fair bit of frost from the car windscreen.

England fans now appear in the ascendancy as the Ahmedabad's festivities are over. I hope these don't start up again before the time I usually get up or I'll have to go back to bed. Though it is morning it is a wonderfully clear and starry night. I tweet to Aggers and TMS to tell them.

Prior 91, Cook 169, 348-5. A great performance. Shame about the first innings, but there we are. TMS very kindly read out my tweet. It didn't go to my head as I know it's just a question of the lack of traffic so early in the morning. I was just about to tweet about Venus being in the ascendancy here and England in ascendancy there when Prior goes c & b still on 91.

I have to find a tweeting equivalent of the commentator's curse but I cannot think of anything. Someone will tweet me one I expect. Cookie's day ends when he falls at 365. Not surprisingly the Indian fielders leap around. Down to 7. Blowers sets the pulse racing saying that Broad had been caught by Sewag but Boycott puts him right. Botham's Ashes could become Broad's Indian Summer.

A 42 run lead. 372-7. Though Broad survived Blowers' appeal the third wicket soon falls. I've only been up for an hour and ten minutes. 378-8. 381-8, the lead is now 51. Swann's out bowled. 406-9. Sir G called it right. Ashwin's 20/20 skills overcame Swann's 20/20 stroke. Blowers goes into reverse telling us that Bresnan has hit a great shot. Sir G tells us it's out. 406 all out for an early Lunch. A little too early for me even for elevenses as it's only five to six.

Still an hour and a half to go before I shout up to Lizzie 'Wakey wakey eggs and bakey' even though it's going to be porridge. Aggers' tweet of 'Lost 5 wickets for 66 this morning' put paid to any high expectancy. I could be posting this blog before I normally get up. I dont want to change the picture of 'Calm' as it has received its fair share of praise. It did look good. Like Cook to England it added a bit of class.

I'll ask her permission to put the Gate etching in. After all Compton started it off with one through the gate. That's a good one too. I mean the etching with aquatint rather than my attempt to link the print ( pictured ) to the cricket. Lizzie is due to deliver one of her other prints to an exhibition in London today and needs to catch the 9.43am fast train from Gravesend.

The one in a million kindly said for me 'not worry' and to 'stay to watch the cricket'. 'I'll phone a friend to come with me.' With the Indian team on 28-0, how can I do anything else but worry as it's 50-50 that it will be all over by the time she has to get up. I'm almost tempted to get a smart phone by Friday. I'll have time to download that Universal App so I can follow Saturn closing in on Venus. Using the birdsong App I can get the phone to listen to the Dawn Chorus to tell me what birds are out there in the garden so I can let Blowers know.

India are more than half way there in next to no time and reach 50 with 20 minutes to go before the sun is due to rise here. A Lovely sunrise it is when it appears on the horizon which is next door's fence. No I don't live in the Ponderosa. It's just a question of perspective. The portents are good for the Mumbai Test as KP shows that he is thinking about the position of his feet pulling up only inches short of the boundary in catching Sehwag. 6 for India to win.

Boycott and Aggers get tetchy with each other about who plays in Mumbai. Same amongst the Sky lot. Well we did lose so you can expect it. Not a pleasant sight so early in the morning of Duncan Fletcher clapping his team. Or was he applauding Andy Flower for leaving Monty out like he did in Adelaide in 2006? I'll ask the audience.

I'll also give you all a well deserved rest until Friday, when it all starts up again. Bye.

A Sense of Calm

The alarmed Bell went off as I made a cup of tea, with the sunshine peeping through the breakfast room window draped patterened curtains. DAB downstairs so as not to disturb the sleeping Lizzie. There was me looking forward to hearing the 200 come up for the loss of only three wickets, when Patel got a first baller.

Blowers said it had come up but it hadn't. Having been reminded of birds I texted the Seville holidaying early bird worker with the news that her Captain Courageous not for the first time was fine tuning a Captain's innings without breaking sweat.

I turned on Sky then went to Twitter to find out the story of the morning. Not brillo, especially as Prior has reached the second highest score of the England innings by the time the sun has crept around to the conservatory through the lounge to reflect off the lead piping. Professor Prior is not Plumb despite vehement appeals and remains on 40.

264-5 at tea. Aggers reads out the day's batting. A little later during the tea interval TMS play the highlights of the innings to date. I tweet off a thanks to Aggers and the TMS producer.

Aussie fanatics had better watch out as Elvis' mate told me last night at the Curry and Dosa in Gravesend that he fancied going on the next Ashes Tour. Even the Aussie players might be in for a shock.They will be used to chants from The Barmy Army but to receive a torrent of verbal abuse from one of the greys might put the wind up them.

I haven't heard whether the leader of our Barmy Army has changed his name or his appearance yet. Anybody know? 292-5. 38 to go. I've got time to think about a picture to go with this post. The lovely Lizzie has done a lino print called 'calm'. That's what it is here, and that's what we want in Ahmedabad.

I'll ask her if that would be okay. She said it would. What do you think? They are available, and as I've earned ony £0.68 this month from advert clickers I'm beginning to worry about how I'm going to pay for the Aussie Tour, especially if Lizzie has to come as Elvis' mate's minder. Talking about deficits this one is down to 23.

Blowers reads out the bowling figures during the drinks break. He deserves an Oscar, I mean an Ojha. 16 behind as a pigeon flies over the top of the stand according to Henry. Calm it is but Cook is knackered. Once the deficit is cleared, psychologically Cook may be destroyed. Perhaps that's why 'Calm down dear' Cameron may not really want the deficit to go.

Sky show some stats on the telly about highest individual scores by visiting captains in India. The TMS commentator reads some of them out, makes an error and is corrected by their scorer who probably has a better view of the screen and gets praised by the TMS commentator for his attentiveness. Credit where it is due and we are now in credit.

Activity is detected on the The England Bench as they raise their Bowling Coach from his slumbers.'Get in the nets Monty' is what the the lip readers wanted to see. 'And make sure thee've got thy pads on' is what Sir G would have added.

Can we last? Can Captain even more Courageous keep going? A double figures lead. Who is going to be first to mention Botham's Ashes? The answers are 'Maybe, Yes and me'.

See you tomorrow. I may have to replace the Early Bird as the earliest riser to be in on the action and be in with a chance of a reply to my tweets. I'll give her a text

BBC still in crisis?

I woke up this morning at precisely 127-7. It was Sir Geoffery again on Long wave TMS. As the early bird worker to whom I text updates of the cricket is holidaying in Seville, I thought I'd leave her enjoy her home made marmalade, toast and tea before I send her the bad news.

Not that I could let her know how her captain pin up had got on today as TMS didn't seem to be so concerned about informing the relatively later rising fans such as moi or the I'm staying in bed for a lie in as it's Saturday and there's no interruption on LW fans. Although Prior, Bresnan and Broad had injected some respectability I reluctantly but boldly texted the heart breaking news that England had been bowled out for 191.

I waited for the details of what had happened but they were not forthcoming, so unless you are one of Blowers' twitchers with a Bush radio you would have remained empty handed, but not as you would know it Trotty. It could cost the early bird worker now holidaying in Seville a fortune in texts seeking the required information. In desperation I got out of bed to fetch the laptop. I knew that the TMS commentators spend half their lives on twitter. The details would all be there.

They were. While I pondered whether to be as Direct as Sir G who was saying that someone should be telling the top order batsmen to get their heads over the ball in the England dressing room, or as diplomatic as Aggers who must have been stung by the tweet he retweeted calling him an 'uneducated idiot' in response to his complaint about too many fireworks celebrating Diwali, as TMS was broadcasting a piece explaining what it was about, while they were filling up on tea and chocolates.

Well that decided it. Be direct for results. Say something about basic broadcasting. I sent off a couple of tweets to Aggers, to TMS itself and to the producer. To what effect? None of course. Still no hint of the information, no apologies or admissions of guilt despite drink breaks, injury time and groundsmen-on time.

Yesterday I suggested to Aggers in a tweet that GB should become DG of the BBC after rounding on him for not asking Ed Hawkins, author of 'Bookie Gambler' more searching questions. Perhaps TMS producer would do for a start.


I know its not Newsnight, but as Sue Lawley said all those years ago in the Woodville Halls, Gravesend. 'It's your BBC'.

But not as you know it Jim. Not as you know it.

England Nelson-0 thanks to no DRS, Aggers. England expects and so do we.

I did get a reply from Simon Mann, for which I'm grateful, who wasn't sure what I was on about. Like many of the past readers of the book (pictured) you are in good company, Simon.

No Indian Summer yet

Good morning. There is something about waking up to Sir Geoffery's non-dulcet Yorkshire tones. I text off the fact that India are 191-1 with Sehwag already with his century to an early working bird. I can remember being stunned in Adelaide in 2006 when we heard that Monty was not in the team.

I'm not stunned now with this oft repeated omission despite it being an even more obvious error, as you know it's a regular item on the England pre-Test agenda, not that it's any of my pre-Test business. Item no.7: What bollocks shall we use this time to explain leaving out Monty? I'm just glad that Churchill used and kept his head and his Monty.

'Yesterday in Parliament' gets me out of bed as the clock radio is not DAB and I have to swap Dravid and Marks for Botham & Co. I've let the worker know that V is out to Swann even though she is probably knee deep in a pre-what ever it is meeting. It's a damp and dreary day. No sign of the Indian Summer that we had yesterday outside of Parliament.

I took advantage of the sunshine to Teak oil the garden furniture and Creosote-substitute the side gate. I'm glad there's a whole English winter between the application and when I next eat my burgers off the table, as some of the chemicals that seem to constitute what I thought was not a substitute teak oil seem nastier than those in the creosote substitute.

The bottle (pictured) warns you not to lose your rag as you may lose your life as it is likely to spontaneously combust. Perhaps I overreacted. It's not as if it's going to burst into flames or anything like that. The Lovely Lizzie told me that she could hear the foghorns in the night. I apologised just in case she wasn't just confirming the prevailing weather conditions.

By the time I'd removed the sleepy dust from my eyes and visited the bathroom the dog had been up on the bed and using the Sony Cube FM/AM/LW radio for balance finished off my cup of tea not to mention the toast and marmalade that the LLL had kindly brought up putting the mockers on Tendulkar who was out for 13.

Yes I had washed my hands. I studied Chemical Engineering for a year. One of the first lessons you were taught was that a Chemical Engineer always washes his/her hands before he/she goes to the toilet. The second lesson was to define a Civil Engineer as a Chemical Engineer with his/her brains kicked out. I disagreed with this as I had always held Isambard, Kingdom and Brunel in the highest of regards.

I turn on the radio to listen to TMS after I hear no criticism of Trott's Underbelly and seemingly underhand actions from the Sky lot after his dropping of a catch in the slips off Swann. Prakash Wakankar voiced the obvious. Item No.8: It's not Cricket. I expect they'll put it into a context later.

Look out Trotty as Aggers got a little bit of stick after having complained in a 'slightly sardonic and inoffensive' tweet about a second night of fireworks. 'It's a jungle out there'. Perhaps I'll retweet an apology on your behalf to the members of our 5th and Colt XIs to whom I'd sent Diwali greetings, though I ought to consult my legal representatives first in the present climate.

I've kept the worker updated on scores and wickets. 313-4 with no wickets yet from the new ball. Only one bit of feedback so far regarding with whom to tour for the next Ashes. One fellow fix sec asked for any thoughts. All I could say was Item No.9: We are still dithering. Have a long look at the Brochures and on-line information from the Tour operators. You may want to organise flights, Tickets etc. yourself, Go Tailor made with flexibility, or go with the Tour Operators.

All of these have options within their programmes, and they do vary both with prices and with what is included. Consider stopovers. The lovely Lizzie and the early bird worker went to Hong Kong on the way over; Lizzie et moi went to Singapore on the way back. To stand by the graves of sailors from HMS Prince of Wales and HMS Repulse together with the visit to Changi Prison were particularly poignant times reminding us of the sacrifices that were made.

It was very well organised through 'The Sporting Traveller', the closest we could find to 'Grandstand' of Ashes 2006 who included a fantastic combination of interesting days out, Tour dinners and the feeling that you were amongst it all. As I said last time Howzat Travel's deal to New Zealand seemed pretty stunning and competitive. Gullivers are well established and experienced.

My son would have rather gone with The Barmy Army who do all the Tours, but it wasn't for me being now more white than grey. The Grandstand group (who I don't think do the Tour Ashes any more) were less 'grey' in 2006 than The Sporting Traveller's party in 2010 who used Bob Taylor as a host with the most, though in fairness everybody was four years older. @sportstours were added to the list by 'All Out Cricket' magazine.

All hotels were good. Plenty of things to do. We stayed in Sydney for 4 nights ( No cricket) after the Brisbane and Adelaide back to back Tests) and that was a great decision even without DRS. If we do go again it will be Adelaide, Time off in Sydney, Perth, then back for Christmas. No offence Brisbane but to be tempted back I'd need to see your Gold Coast again and more of Moreton Island as we need a return match for the game of beach cricket we lost.

I'll fire off a few more tweetie pies in the hope that I'll get a few suggestions from the great and the good out there. Lets hope by the time Sir Geoffery wakes me up tomorrow England will be in the runs but not of the Trotts variety, please.

Not voting today I'm afraid. Like Mr Cameron I enjoyed 'The Wire' but I'm not looking for another layer to deflect the buck sticking to him.

Parliamentary Privilege in Ashes

The Tory MP who has skidaddled off to the Australian Rain Forest has set a precedent enabling working people to go on the Ashes Tour in 2013 on full pay. Be prepared, however, to stand in a byebye-election if as is likely such unauthorised absences remain a parliamentary privilege.

The pompous ass partner of a previous 'I'm a pompous ass, get my ass out of here' pompous ass was certain that the truant and accuser of Cameron and Osborne of being pompous asses would have covered her ass by organising staff to do the constituency donkey work during her absence.

Hence teachers amongst you do not have to worry about telling the Head, or covering your lessons while down under. Teacher Assistants will do it after they've found out you're gone, at a tenth of your salary. You can calculate expenses by subtracting a month's pay from the price of the Tour.

If you can't manage the maths simply abscond to an Academy School where you won't have to worry about such stipulations thus adding to the scheme's unqualified successes.

All I heard on the grapewhine was that she didn't tell Lord Snooty and her 3 line whip managers until after the event as by then it would have been too late for them to cry over spilt milk. She thought they wouldn't have the bottle to charge her with milking it after having pointed out that they didn't know the price of a pint of milk in the first place.

Lord Snooty commented that it made a change for somebody to live in the Colony before they were convicted reminding those who choose to remain to accept that a Society where the cream rises to the top to be licked by the Fat Cats is not a separatist Society but one in which all are together.

'Convict Colony' or not, the in-house question I want to ask of you is 'Which Tour Operator should be used?'

The Grandstand Group who took us in 2006 included a daytrip to a Rain Forest three days before the Brisbane Test and three years after Tuffers became King of the Jungle. In Adelaide we stayed in the same hotel as the Australian team. We listened to Angus Fraser and Kerry O' Keeffe during a three course meal with unlimited wine or beer.

Four years later we had the very unparliamentary privilege of the company of Former England International wicketkeeper Bob Taylor as the efficient, principled and likeable Tour Manager for The Sporting Traveller.

Gullivers were obvious rivals and we were too grey for the Barmies. Howzat could appeal. Their New Zealand Itineraries looked tempting. As Viper said to Maverick in Top Gun 'There will be others'.

Can you help?

Oh yes. Warners went well. A shame about the Halloween gear I bought as it turned out to be a traditional Turkey and Tinsel week. Boxing Day's Late Night Karaoke (pictured) was a qualified success as were the New Year's Eve Rocket Balloons imported by I.T.I. (UK) Ltd Essex CO2 8HH.

The traditional verbal abuse by Elvis' mate was limited towards the unlucky resident singer who had to follow the Lord Mayor's show (pictured) being told to 'Liven it up a bit' during her Cabaret Spotlight final farewell session.

Ho ho ho.

Cornish Pasties not a patch on Cookies

I was just making a suggestion to a past fellow member of an Ashes Tour Group on faceBook of a possible way to spend a Cornish afternoon viz....


'Might be a bit far from where you are, or maybe not enough time left not to mention the weather but parking at Lelant Park & Ride, Ciff path to St Ives wallowing in Art there, catching the train back, pasties from Philps in Hayle TR27 4BJ and a pint of Doombar or two if you are not the driver might be memorable'(Pictured above).

...when I noticed that the accompanying advert to the blog was from M&S. I couldn't believe it. The good lady wife and myself had just been considering whether we should treat ourselves to a 'Dine in for £10' meal.I didn't click on it as I haven't found out yet whether it is against the rules to self click, and I don't want to be fined any more than the 44p that I've managed to earn this month.

Impressive or what? Those cookies must be the sort that Harry used in Spooks to extract information without having to resort to the violence now showing in the Private sector according to Hunted.

As I related the tale to her in the checkout (that's the wife not the cashier), she told me that she had been on line earlier in the day to see if M&S were doing it this weekend. 'That's why we were talking about it...' she explained, also explaining to the both of us that although advanced, cookies were not the serial killers that plunge you into the deep fat fryer I had wrongly assumed them to be.

'...it could also explain why 'Dating Agency' adverts used to crop up next to your posts' she added. 'It's because two fixture secretaries responded to the previous post by looking for dates through The John Harley system and so the all-pervading cookies saw an opportunity' was all I could manage.

We're off to Warner's Lakeside next. Perhaps Fix Secs will be more forthcoming with holiday suggestions. It's a long time since we've been to a Warner's. We have been reluctant to show our faces since we went to a 'Las Vegas Weekend' at Corton.

As the last and most famous member of the Rat Pack came on stage one of our party managed to shout out 'F*"* off you Mafiosi B"*@*$* before my missus got a hand over his mouth. Luckily he met the Rochdale Elvis in the bar and got on with him well enough for the Saturday Night Show to proceed without incident. The R E was so convincing that the ladies in our group thought about going backstage to see if he was in need of resuscitation.

We had more 'Tribute Group trouble' with another one of our party when we went to the Princess Theatre in Torquay to see some real live ABBA marionettes. They were good - You couldn't see the strings and not just because some of our party donned satin and danced not in the aisles but in the rows in front of the seat I was sat in (sorry) thus ruining 50% of the visual effects I was looking forward to after having seen the movie 'Abba The Movie' in the 70s.

My mate obviously light headed with a combination of the pints of lager consumed before the show and the tightness of his satin tie that he was wearing around his forehead, began to make a fuss in the foyer when he discovered that there were no CDs for sale. 'They're a F*"*ing Tribute band you daft B"*@*$*' said the up until then well behaved friend of Elvis mimicking the very words that my lady wife had whispered into his shell-like at Corton.

I'll let you know what becomes of the entertainment at Lakeside.

Oh yes. My Ashes pal got back to me on faceBook. He must have had too many cookies with his cream teas. He said he doesn't get on with Doombar - He prefers 'Tribute'. Scary or what?

If you are down that way over Halloween and really want to be pushed to but not over the limit, just a bit after buying your pasties turn left to TR27 5AD and drink your pint of Tribute at The Bucket of Blood pub, If you dare!

Venice Vidi Vici Vino

Something has motivated me into putting the third finger of my right hand and the digital finger of the left into action. Perhaps it is the Tory Party Conference that resurrected the two aforementioned fingers this time on the same hand and restored the blood flow.

I am in reflective mode on a Cricket season now complete with fixtures rained off, toured out or unfulfilled all replaced by the splendid, should be mentioned in dispatches John Harley system. Not that I am personally in need but have you thought of using your system as a dating replacement scheme, John?

'I have been seriously let down by a lady from Northfleet for this coming weekend. There is a table for two booked in Istead Rise for Saturday, but could arrange for home cooking if preferred. Have a strong sociable personality but this can easily be reduced through medium to weak for the right sort of person. A ball will be had if we hit it off and I would be prepared to become a regular fixture if you don't mind me playing away from home every now and then.'

I missed our final game of the season at Ash CC as I was visiting the Beautiful City of Venice (Pictured) looking for a venue for a possible cricket tour. With my two fingered approach to 'We're all in this together except we'll make sure you are deeper in it than us' I am happy to share how you can experience this timeless city for arachidi, getting away at night in time to be able to buy your frizzante rather than spumante vino rosso for €1.75 a litre before closing time.

Unless you want to be a former fixture secretary don't 'play chicken with the vaporettos', as suggested in 'You can keep your Gondolas' (The Sunday Times Travel October7). Instead cock a snoop at the sardine packed boats on the Grand Canal by using the Vaporetto dell Arte which for an additional €10 on your 72 hour+ travel pass you get your own private trip up and down and on and off as many times as you want, without the dangers of being mown down by the battery of boats much higher in the pecking order but lower in the puking order than the paltry canoe.

Unlike the chicken crossing the M25, for €2 you can get casseroled across the Grand Canal in a gondola from Salute( can't do an e acute) to San Marco and only have to put up with two grumpy gondoliers for four minutes.

I could tell you where to stay for £50 pp for 7 nights, with a thirty minute cruise into Venice, via Murano and Burano if you wish, all included in your water travel pass, with a Pizza place just round the corner, the Adriatic 5 mins walk for swimming, fishing, cockling and every beach activity or inactivity you can think of, six outdoor swimming pools, two heated and a crazy golf course to die for, but that would need some interest on your part.

To register this interest simply click on the adverts accompanying this blog (They will be more aimed at your needs than mine with these all pervading cookies) and that will allow me the €9.70 to save up for one of those solar powered swinging gondolas that the lovely lady wife would not let me buy this year.

So that's you and me both then for next year. Marina di Venezia is the venue, just a 15 minute cycle ride with a view to Punta Sabbioni where your water bound adventures begin. Book via The Sun Holidays saving the tokens, keeping those fingers crossed of course. The accommodation will cost you £200 for 7 nights for 4 people in a static caravan with a terrace.

By keeping each other informed using the John Harley system there ought to be enough people holidaying at the same time for beach cricket and enough booked caravans to ring fence a late night post match festa. On top of all that Venice is just around the corner with the top dog being The Doges Palace which is the dog's bollocks as far as potential for out of season indoor nets are concerned.

You're welcome.



Best wishes

Mike Kelleher

Oscar Pistorius, Unhappy and Inglorious in not being Victorious...

.... God Save The Queen. I Watched Oscar eating humble pie on the TV last evening. We all make mistakes and it is good to see that his advisers told him what to do to make amends after his potentially costly error. Perhaps KP should engage them to vet his future outpourings. After all they speak the same language.

Who am I to pontificate? Nobody. Just a soul who was able to get into the Olympic Stadium, thanks to the fact that The Paralympics are separate to the Olympics. A contentious issue. By the looks of what I saw the two events could be and probably should be merged and why not?

I know if they had been with that farce of a ticketless website and the stupid initial ballot that the LOWLIFE committee set up, I together with thousands of others wouldn't have been able to go to any events other than football, and what a loss that would have been.

The whole thing from stepping on to the High Speed train for £3.60 through presenting the £5 ticket to be scanned at Gate C to replying 'Oi Oi Oi' to the volunteer's 'Oggie oggie oggie' on the way home was momentous, a never to be forgotten experience that so narrowly could have been missed by the many.

But as I said who am I? Just a bum on a seat. But a seat that I'd have gladly given up to your mob, Seb, if those Paralympian heroes would have rather been Olympians.

Quite a few missed David Weir's first gold medal because of the Oliveira Affair. After Oliveira pissed off Pistorius (in the next 10 metres following the moment captured in the photograph above) loads of people who were able to, stood up to vacate their seats. Not us, not thousands of others. To see history being made is worth waiting for.

We became familiar with the Chinese National Anthem. Five or six times we stood up for it. I was happy to return the compliment. After all it was the Chinese together with the other Asian divers who bowed and acknowledged the crowd in the Aquatic Centre during The London Prepares Games.

We went again on the Tuesday. I wished I had gone on the Monday so I could have joined in with the booing of the boy George. I heard on the Today Programme that some of the Right Wing press called the crowd's behaviour 'shameful', as if they'd taken their clothes off. Perhaps the paper should have advised their boy George to have stuck to the Olympics where he would have been more amongst his fellows.

The wife and I could be joining the also-rans of the Royal family. With just one gold medal to go to become a Baroness for my brother's wife's son's sister in law I fully expect to be in line to make an appearance on that balcony.

God Save The Queen.

PS. Where the National Flags of the medal winning athletes are raised is in a place that doesn't catch the wind.

Some of the visually impaired long jumpers almost ran into where the official sand rakers sit.

Many of the visually impaired discus throwers couldn't hear their guides consequently throwing the discus in the wrong direction for a foul throw.

Quite a few of the Track athletes were kept hanging around for far too long, while medal ceremonies took place.

This in my opinion was why Oscar got beaten by a whisker as he was given too much time to milk the adoration of the crowd, went off the boil and soured the occasion. And as you now know Oscar you can't cry 'Weirwolf' after spilt milk.

Otherwise very well done.

PPS. See you at Balmoral.

Out of the Frying Pan

Shades of the beginning of the season-Opposition drop out, organise another game then it gets rained off. Kindly the opposition have offered to try to find a pitch for next week as we don't have a scheduled game.

The phone call describing the downpour came 20 minutes before we were due to set off, so we decamped to our house to have a few beers and to set the world right.

The alternatives received to frogs legs included chicken wings, King size prawns and scallops. I did get stick from some Vegans but with no response from @Edangeredfrogs I've suggested a replacement recipe which I thought would have been suitable for veggies, but turns out to have the word 'viandes' in it.

Hopefully mon amie the translater will come up trumps encore un fois to confirm this, though I don't want to overload her curriculum as the French must be back at School by now. Term time can't be far away over here either as the Notting Hill Carnival is in full swing.

Paralympics, Venice and Bournemouth to fit in while the Cricket season comes to an end, then serious thinking about the next year's Ashes. I've been to more Test Match days in Australia than I have over here. I've got to maintain my average on that count.

What would you suggest? Adelaide, a few days in Sydney then Perth in the company of Bob Taylor?

Read this mes amis and drool

Let me think ..............



Cut the frog legs in half. Season both the legs and flour. In a large saute pan, over medium heat, melt the butter. Dredge the frog legs in the seasoned flour and shake to remove any excess flour. Add the frog legs to the hot pan and saute until golden, turning as needed, about 2 to 3 minutes each side. Add the shallots and garlic and saute for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes, season with salt and pepper, and cook for 1 minute. Add the wine, simmer for 2 minutes, then stir in the parsley. Remove from the heat and serve.

Get someone that you fancy to read this to you in a french accent and you'll never have the need to read those 50 Shades threesomes. As the lovely Lizzie (pictured) would say, Griff, Dara and Rory (from my old school), 'As you can see from the picture of our sinking boat Three would be a crowd'.

PS. If you can think of a substitute for the frogs legs that will still press the buttons feel free to comment.

Hop (sic) Springs Eternal

The frog in my garden (pictured) is perfectly safe as my French isn't up to translating the recipe (pictured aussie) to make a meal of it.

He or she was too quick, too slippery for me anyway and legged it just after the photo was taken. I continue to have similar experiences with the LOWLIFE website trying this time for Paralympic tickets. The frog seems slow compared with the speed at which the available tickets disappear into the ether.

The same thing happened with the Olympics but it didn't spoil the event and I wallowed in the success of it all just like everybody else. While we were in France avoiding the grenouilles a friend of ours managed to get us tickets for the Athletics. For a fiver each!

I feel a sense of guilt. Why me? I feel like a benefit cheat? No worse. Like a banker. I'm persuading myself that as it wasn't me that actually got the tickets I should continue the search for more.Track Cycling, Equestrian or Swimming? What do you think Seb?

There are those who would say, Seb, that the frog has more chance of turning into a Prince or even a Lord than I have of getting tickets from that website. Like that frog I have no intention of becoming legless or newtlike but I like you, Seb, will celebrate if I strike gold.

I need to galvanise myself this weekend and get myself prepared to play some cricket after weeks of umpiring inactivity. The game is at Teston where I tore tendons in my arm three years ago. With the passing of time and the help of some reiki sessions my bowling arm should be okay for a couple of overs.

We'll see.

Torchy Torchy the Battery Ploy

I did hear that a snatcher turned his attention to a hotter property in Gravesend this morning. Let's hope that he got his fingers burned and gets the appropriate roasting. I certainly hope he didn't and doesn't get away with it.

I was in the town centre this morning to pick up my Sky wireless router that they promised to give me free of charge after not too much fuss so I can see films anytime, which is a plus. Anyway it was buzzy and busy. I didn't hear any untoward planning, maybe because of all the whistles being blown.

Despite one of my ex-pupils carrying it in the town centre we had other plans to amble down the road from our house past an old flame's house to see the torch.

I called in to the Old Folks Home in Darnley Road to see if Gaynor Kingston( some of you may remember him from Gravesend Cricket Club) wanted to go down to see the torch. He did. I picked up a folding chair as all that batting over the years has given him a bit of a dodgy back. Otherwise he seemed in great form and off we strolled.

The torch bearer (See Photo) seemed happy and excited as did everybody else. There was even some enthusiasm still evident amongst the battery of also rans and promoters, but as they are getting to the end of a long journey you can forgive them running out of juice. Maybe the torch snatcher had drained their energy.

The freebies weren't exactly flowing. A limited edition of coke bottles was all that was on offer. Hardly the real thing though I did get one and gave it to a young lad who was reticent about going to the front of the crowd. When the Tour de France went through Gravesend a few years back many more hats and flags were offered free of charge. Of course the exchange rate is different now apres le deluge. I didn't have time to ask the flag seller 'What's your best price?' I didn't see him sell any.

Is it true that they were waiting to get to the leafier outskirts of Gravesend before the Corporates emerged from their buses to offload their riches? To see the Lloyds coach was a bonus now that they are Co-operating

I couldn't get over how friendly and happy the Police Motorcyclists were. Has Theresa May promised them a pay rise for bailing out the Security for the Olympics or are they just trying to Court favour again after getting their fingers scalded by the kettling, or was it Sunburn?

Seb seemed to get away with it on the Today programme on Radio 4 this morning. He sounded like the politician he is. We all want a successful and safe London Olympics. But it would have been nice to be there, to be part of the real thing. I should have asked for 'Hands up if you've got a ticket'. I bet there wouldn't have been more than a handful.

I'm proud to be part of Gravesend. I think the local community here is great. I enjoy being part of Gravesend CC. Like so many I'm happy to be a bit on the side part in the torch relay and unlike the LOWLIFE and milk snatchers of this world I'm okay with staying on the sidelines. Ironically enough like so many of the people I talked to today I do get the feeling of being sidelined as far as Olympic Tickets are concerned. But it's okay as like the rest of the masses I've seen the light and won't be storming the Bastilles. (sic).

A sop? A ploy? Probably. No worries, I can sit on the couch and see it all on TV eating my Walker's potato crisps in a plain brown bag. Good to see Boris so 'ebullyent' (sic) about it all. Oh Yea. Me? I'm happy to wait until a few more whistles are blown to 'Hear all about it'.

Skeletons in the Cupboard

It was on my son's school's cricket tour to Cork City. We were due to play 3 games against Cork City's Presentation College, Cork CCC and Munster CC respectively. The weather was reasonably kind and only one of the matches was abandoned to rain. None of the opposition sides missed out as it was the same 11 youngters who turned out on all three occasions.

In the first game our side was batting and I was umpiring. My son pushed one to leg and they took a quick single. The other umpire signalled and shouted ‘One short’ and the total went down by one, even though it hadn’t gone up by one in the first place. One of the opposition kids came up to me and with a smile on his face he said ‘Only in Ireland!’ ‘Don’t worry;' I said 'we’ll get it in singles.’

I hope I’m known as a fair umpire and give it as I see it but I was almost tempted by the most melodic and appealing of Irish accents ‘Now how will that be then?’ with my son plumb in front. ‘There’s no English blood in my veins either’ I explained to him, at the end of the over, with the boy's grandparents coming from 20 miles down the road. Even though they are both dead like WG Grace who has played on The Mardyke at Cork CC they would have come to see him bat not me umpire. Well I said I was Irish didn’t I?

One of our tour visits was to Cork City Gaol. It wasn't exactly the place for a barrel of laughs but that was what was heard from each group as they rolled out of a particular cell on the first floor. Not funny for me or my son. As I entered I saw my uncle and his great uncle Cornelius Kelleher(pictured) looking like a corpse serving out his sentence of indefinite duration for being constantly drunk and disorderly.

As parents do, I took the opportunity both to remind my son of the perils of the demon drink but also to reassure him that the DNA in his genes was not entirely sourced from his Great Uncle Cornelius, now twice removed.

At a previous Gravesend Cricket Club AGM the 3rd team captain praised the boy for his bowling abilities. 'It's nice to see that Mike has passed on his cricketing genes' he said. As I was beginning to glow, not just with the effect of the couple of pints I had sunk, he followed up with 'It is a pity that he didn't keep any for himself.'

The boy now a man scored 110 at the Bat & Ball on Saturday. I couldn't have been more proud. I had however to shake him by the hand without looking him in the eye as I couldn't co-ordinate my movements, not just with the effect of the couple of pints I had sunk but because of the lingering pain in my neck caused in my successful attempt to take a catch in the deep at Telston and Mereworth Cricket Club earlier that afternoon, confirming skeletal remains of this particular cricketing gene.

We lost the match with a mid order collapse , but T & M adjusted their bowling attack to make a game of it which to me is why I so much enjoy non league cricket. The tea they provided was fantastic and we thanked them for allowing the ladies to join in the feast after returning from their jaunts around some nearby South East Open Studios. Telston and Mereworth CC and their Fix Sec, Chris Keeler have a reputation for producing a fixture card that contains much that will amuse and this year's is no exception with its hilarious advertisements.

They also have The AA's (drinking sort) phone number on the back which could prove to be personally very useful if Uncle Cornelius twice removed passed on more of his DNA than I initially thought.

Not just a 'Fenton!' Deja vu

Like all good deja vues, I've been there before. It's an hour to go before I make another despairing attempt to get hold of some worthwhile affordable Olympic tickets.

It's an hour to go before (well it is about deja vu) we are told that rain has delayed the start of the 'second' which hopefully will be the first day at Edgbaston. The gusting wind has blown over the sweat peas and the slugs have finished off most of the runner beans and half of the cucumbers while I was distancing myself from the Jubilee in the Brecon Beacons.

I'll admit last weekend was a significant one. I dropped a catch in the deep off the captain's bowling against Locksbotton Sat 2nds. As that was the only cricketing skill that I thought I had retained, it was a moment to contemplate retirement from the activity of the game itself.

The forgiving captain ( or was it a vengeful one? ) suggested I bowl with four overs to go with them approaching 200.

I took a wicket, bowled off his pads, first ball and only went for 8 runs in the two overs so I decided to make myself available for selection for our next game against Telston and Mereworth, and duly selected myself. I hope the Cherry Tree in their car park doesn't get blown down today as the sale of their cherries usually pays for our match fees.

The game at Locksbottom was enjoyable. They are a pleasant lot. Okay they beat us easily enough but we made a reasonable effort with the bat in reply, with one of our U16 Colts who we included because he has had a shaky start to the season, playing really well which gave me ten times more satisfaction than my first baller.

As I write this, my poor lady wife is sitting in the A & E at Darent Valley Hospital waiting for them to confirm whether or not she broke her rib on the trek to Table Mountain on Monday Bank Holiday (or was it Tuesday Bank Holiday?) We only live 10 minutes away, she's got my digital radio that she bought for me to listen to the cricket and she has a hands free device for her mobile in case they plaster her up from head to toe.

She didn't go to the Neville Hall Hospital in Abergavenny where they saved her life 33 years ago after being knocked down by a car on Llangynidr Bridge as she expressed the commonly shared belief of 'What can they do about a broken rib? You just get on with it.' I hope she is able to tune to Radio 4, otherwise her ribs will be giving her jip as they are tickled listening to Phil Tufnell's jokes on TMS.

The circumstances of the injury causing fall she experienced mirrored what can be seen on the 'Fenton!' Utube feature, except our dog is a Bichon Frise, the deer were sheep and Brecon Beacons is Richmond Park. It wasn't a field but there were sheep dotted around and the dog should have been on the lead. As we went around a dry stone wall corner we came face to face with 3 sheep. They took fright and bolted. Not deliberately wishing to mix up the species Fenton, sorry Tess, didn't give a monkeys for our calls and hared off.

lizzie, fearing for the lives of the sheep and for Tess in case of any trigger happy shepherds being present repairing their dry stone walls, made a grab slipped and fell landing on our new Nikon Coolpix camera recently bought from Tesco Direct with Clubcard points still in its ill fitting pink case that we couldn't be assed to return.The ill fitting case saved the camera but not Lizzie's rib which Darent Valley confirmed to be cracked after a two hour wait and without the need for an X-Ray.

It's an ill fitting wind. We don't need to worry Tescos about the wrong case as it's damaged, and we don't have to think any more as regards what to get as a present for our son's birthday as The Tackle Shop is just down the road from the hospital and we knew he needed a new set of scales. The treatment? Same as we prescribed, except you need tablets for better pain relief. This helps you breathe properly thus lessening the chance of infection.

I don't believe in private medicine either but the least you could do in return for the passing on of this helpful information is to click on the adverts to earn us a few bob just in case the Government does take away our right to free subscriptions. My eventual dive to catch Tess had a similar outcome to the one at Locksbottom CC the Saturday before. I took heart from that occasion, tried a different approach and trapped her lbw. (Leg before wall).

There being 'no prospect of any play at Edgbaston today' turned out to be true.

There being 'no prospect of me getting any affordable Olympic Athletic tickets' turned out to be true.

A great shame as I've been saving my last two year's lots of Heating Allowance for this.

Only Joking. But not about Seb and the LOWLIFE Shambolic Committee continuing to con the Great Ticketless British Public.

Bubbles and Sods

If I'm prepared to show how I cope with domestic bliss then Seb and the LOWLIFE Committee et al can own up to their neo Whitehall Farce they are putting us through only to turn our dreams into the Pipe Variety as we somehow knew would be the case.

Learning a lesson from yesterday's disappointment I adjusted my strategy. Dead on 11am I searched the London 2012 website for Events. Equestrian Jumping at Greenwich Park was the target. They said it would take 15 minutes to check if the tickets that were available at 11am were available. They told me at 11.15am that the tickets I'd applied for were not available. I tried again for a different day upping my price ceiling. 12 minutes to wait this time before I was told that these were not available either. I tried a couple more variations, but the reduced searching times and the disappearance of all but the most expensive tickets told me not to bother any more.

It wasn't unlike the way in which the film 'Jason and the Argonauts' depicted how the Cruel LOWLIFE Greek Gods played Olympus games with the mere mortals. In this game you have to hold on to a soap bubble for 15 minutes without it bursting. Only then will the bubble reveal its prize - Olympic Tickets. Like all good scams there isn't actually a prize i.e. there are no tickets available, or only such a small proportion compared to 'corporates' as to be negligible.

Seb and the LOWLIFE Ticket Masters need to watch out that their Fat Cat Bubble doesn't blow up in their faces. In my student days I was trying to upgrade a time honoured hydrogen experiment from suds to bubbles in the deep recesses of a laboratory prep room. Similar to the time wasting in the photo but with a bit more excitement and daring that goes hand in hand with younger years.

I made the hydrogen in a large conical flask with zinc and dilute hydochloric acid. A delivery tube from the flask dipped in and out of a beaker containing soap solution producing sizeable hydrogen filled soap bubbles that rose vertically into the air. Using a wooden splint you could set light to the bubbles which 'popped' with a yellow flash.

Like the LOWLIFE Committee I got too greedy. I produced a huge bubble; one that quivered and squirmed at the end of the tube but stubbornly held on. It became bigger and bigger but still refused to budge despite the pressure. In the end I put the lighted touch-paper to the bloated bubble. It was the flask that blew up sending glass shards to all corners of the room. I made a mental note that I only had eight lives left and would leave this particular demonstration to the history rather than the chemistry lessons.

Unpleasant sight as it will be I so hope that Seb and the LOWLIFE Committee get caught with their trousers down.

Have we got the guts?

The significance of Lizzie's latest pose will have to wait as I need to go into training to prepare for my next and probably last chance of getting hold of some Olympic Tickets. Only 40 minutes to go. I didn't apply yesterday as weightlifting and even beach volleyball don't press any of my buttons, and I'm afraid Seb and the LOWLIFE Committee won't be able to recreate yesterday's tension in their football unless they relay a replay of the 1966 World Cup Final on the big screens.

Okay, I will be happy to digest my tasteless words in Golden Hindsight if Psycho is seen punching the air after his team wins the gold medal for Britain. Having been to Boris' London Prepares Series, my inclination is to go for the Track Cycling or the Swimming, as the venues themselves together with the atmosphere created were sensational, unlike Boris' Island where London prepares to empty its guts all over the Thames Estuary merely to help promote Boris' ambition to become the next King of England instead of Charles.

We've actually got a game of cricket for next Saturday. The wonderful John Harley who at a stroke revolutionised fixture finding has arranged for us to play Hartley Country Club 6ths at Eynsford. I'll check the Satnav's proposed route to DA4 0HA as that Ford of theirs must be a raging torrent by now with all this drought. Must go as it's Olympic Ticket picking time. Visa at the ready.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

What an experience Seb. It was like being in an immigration type queue at Boris' Heathrow Airport trying to buy budget airline tickets to replace your cancelled two week holiday only to find that when you get to the desk a jobsworth directs you to the back of another queue which you join only to find the same thing happens again and then again and again.

With your interest and perseverence only being maintained by virgin sirens in red uniforms as you finally get to the front of the queue a fortnight later, the person at the desk you reach tells you that the only tickets available are £950 pounds each, with Stansted as the last remaining destination.

I don't want to, couldn't anyway because of the hosepipe ban and indeed wouldn't because of my nature throw cold water onto your Olympic Torch itinerary Seb, but if I were you I wouldn't get the LOWLIFE Committee to get involved in the organisation, as things are bound to go belly up and the torch like me will not get to light up the Olympic Park at all.

I fear that the one legacy of London 2012 that will remain in my mind, Boris and Seb, is the fact that my daughter and her partner have been asked to get out of their flat near Victoria Park E35, despite being the tenants to die for, by the landlord so that 'His mother can stay for the Olympics'.

If you believe that you will believe the rest of the promises about London 2012 being for the ordinary person. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps I should apply for some of those parenting vouchers from Boots to find out.

Gutted? Of course I am. Over the top? Sorry Sirs, we don't do that for the likes of you any more, and it's not a matter of not having the guts to do it.

There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

Not so I'm afraid. We struck gold with Maxwell's Silver Hammer. Fortunately we weren't attacked by the bronze statue further down the road. Instead he told me that The Great Ticketless British Public would soon become a misnomer.

The LOWLIFE E-Mail came today. It was more like a political manifesto monumentally praising itself for the fulfilment of its promises. It told me that I could enter the second phase of applications on Sunday as I was unsuccessful in the original application and I didn't apply for the second. Not quite the case. I seem to remember their website crashing for the latter preventing me from applying.

Notwithstanding Friday's fait accompli that the 47 000 Athletic tickets will be gone before my leg starts, nor the fact that I am unable to remind them of the impossibility of logging in at the crucial times as it is a no reply no return White Rabbit E-Mail, I intend to remain positive.

I will let my non-athletic fingers do the walking on Sunday provided they don't get bruised in my dropping, sorry I must be positive, in my taking of any catches at Eltham CC's non waterlogged pitch at SE9 2EL on Saturday.

I'd like to thank the ECB for letting us know about the second hand Ark that Lizzie inspected (See Photos) on Monday. She thinks it will fit the bill to transport Gravesend CC Shrimpers to and from away matches easily enough and reckons that the Captain's Cabin is perfect for post match analysis with the natty table specially designed to prevent the beer glasses from sliding off.

Hence if there are any villages in Kent that can offer our weak to medium side a game for Saturday 19th May please let me know as soon as possible so we can set sail.

The Late Cut

Like all good fixture secs, I am awaiting to respond to the expected Thursday phone call from our weekend opponents informing me that their pitch is waterlogged. Ironically Gravesend CC 5ths (Medium to weak, away games only) don't have a game scheduled for May 19th which no doubt will be the first Saturday dry enough to play.

As the number of readers of my last post has flagged, the veg patch is too squelchy to dig and I have already finished readjusting the sticking front door lock back to its winter settings I have nothing better to do but blog.

I wouldn't have minded bowling up the hill at Pluckley last Saturday as they have a park bench under overhanging branches just where deep fine leg would be to a right hand bat. Perfect to rest on before your next over.

There is something satisfying about being a bowler, having done your bit and then not doing another thing in the game yet appearing to play a full and active part, if you can call walking forward and back then crouching down with cupped hands 'active'.The pleasure is playing in a game but not always having to partcipate. Anathema to certain industrious captains, of course, but I have found this periodic inactivity something to savour.

Although I used to play for the school football team, I much preferred the games in class PE lessons. Most of the kids in my class were either crap at or not interested in football. You could lean by the goalpost talking to the keeper or to any other non combatants shivering in your own penalty area waiting for one of the opposing team to come towards you with the ball. Inevitably he'd overkick it or lose control, so you could boot the ball up the other end and have a few more minutes in which to switch off.

The PE teacher eventually twigged and moved me to inside left. In the long run I wasn't too disappointed as I developed quite a good 'Alan Gilzean' type glancing header. You know, where you use the speed and direction of the ball to deflect it goalward with very little effort, or pain come to that. As a token of my appreciation I headed the winning goal in the staff match that season. My favourite cricket shot? The late cut.

The wife and I were meandering near Covent Garden in London on Tuesday. I was recovering from the Lucian Freud exhibition. I happened to mention to her that the Bat & Ball, Gravesend would be a good place to position one of the Olympic Games Defence Missile launchers as it would come in handy if Boris' Island was ever built when this statue (See photo) came alive and put a knife to my wife's throat. I asked him whether The Great Ticketless British Public should expect a similar response every time a word of criticism was uttered against Seb and the LOWLIFE committee.

He said no, but if the wife dressed up again as an Aussie Cricketer like she did half a dozen blogs ago, he'd be back.

P.S. The game's off.

Doggie Paddle is the name of the game in the War of the Roses

As you know I do not take part in the blame game. The game I do try to play is Cricket. So far it has been a washout, with similar portents for this Saturday. Petts Wood's ground was waterlogged. There is another Cricket Club called 'Petts Wood Tudor'. In the days before Quantitative Easing when we were Gravesend CC 4ths rather than the 5ths no matter which one of the two clubs we were playing, we always seemed to go to the wrong ground.

As part of my contribution to Mr Cameron's Big Society, known now as the Great Ticketless British Public, I went to the Play-Cricket Website to prevent you from making the same mistake. Petts Wood CC play at The Willett Recreation Ground BR5 1PE and Petts Wood Tudor CC play at the Willett Recreation Ground BR5 1PE. There are explanations for the same ground being the wrong ground which in fact is the right ground as we are about to hear from Mr Osborne with regard to the Economy.

Petts Wood Tudor also play at Box Hill School, though I would have remembered if we had played there. If the 4ths' fixtures of yesteryear mirrored the ones of today's 5ths, then Pluckley CC who we are due to play on Saturday could well be responsible or are to blame as Mr Osborne would say. Pluckley is the most haunted village in England and so would not be averse to casting a few spells on fellow fixture secretaries causing dispersions with aspersions.

Clearly action needed to be taken. I have instructed our players to meet at the Bat & Ball at 12.45pm on Saturday and to bring either a crucifix or some garlic. Of course this could all be academic as since the introduction of the hosepipe ban by the water companies together with their installation of a water meter for our house, it hasn't stopped raining and if Pluckley have used up their spell allocation on cloud dispersal, it is likely the game will not go ahead.

It was reassuring to see on Petts Wood Tudor CC's Play-Cricket Homepage that they referred to Petts Wood CC as 'Our Old Friends'. I'm sure it is reciprocated. I seem to remember all those years ago a little degree of frostiness between the Clubs. Maybe I was wrong, after all it would have been April. I see this season they are both in Division 1B West of the Kent Regional Cricket League. Next season I'll look out to see if there's a 'Petts Wood Plantagenet' Cricket Club on the Play-Cricket website which would give an indication of some tasty games this season at BR5 1PE.

I'll do what I can if our game does go ahead on Saturday at Pluckley so that any ghoulies and ghosties with time on their hands don't put a plague on either of your houses.

There's Wally - Just a Face in the Crowd

Heartbreaking news. I had to decline the invitation to star in the forthcoming advertisement featuring Graeme Swann, Alistair Cook and Steve Finn being filmed at Trent Bridge on Wednesday.

Just in case they were unable to get enough faces into the crowd I attached this photo of Family Entertainer and Magician 'Uncle Doodoo' (now as with the dodo defunct) to my RSVP together with a reference to this blog. On receipt of my e-mail I'm expecting them to arrange for a helicopter to pick me up from The Bat & Ball Cricket ground, Gravesend CC's Home Ground, resplendent with its new covers, and outdoor nets.

My friend H will be equally devastated. Her pin-up is Alistair Cook. She will have to make do with the photograph of him surfing in Galle that is in May's edition of 'The Cricketer' magazine. The last autograph I got her was from Simon Barnes the Sunday Times Columnist on the plane from Adelaide to Sydney. He seemed a real gent.

That is all.

A Different sort of ....'king Speech

2012 Gravesend CC After Dinner Speech


The three fund raising stalwarts S K , A R and Q asked me on Wednesday if I would do this. How could I refuse despite those infamous words from B J still ringing in my ears of 'No offence Mike but you would think a club like Gravesend would be able to afford a decent speaker.' No offence taken B. What a pity JB isn't here, one of my bowling counterparts and former club secretary as he would have put you straight with a 'Yyyyou won't hear a better Fffffff Kings Speech if Colin fffffking FFFirth was rrrreading it.'


S did ask me at what stage of proceedings would I like to speak.' When people are pissed' was my reply. I can see by the red faces that most of you are at this stage, or is it that you have just been slapped across the face because it was the wrong pair of thighs that you groped underneath the crisp table cloths?


My apologies to the Colts present as there are some words I am about to utter that would not normally pass my lips in front of you. For clarification for them and for some others who a few years back confused a Paediatrician with the term 'Paedophile', and threw a brick through his window, when I come to use the word 'arsonist' I am not referring to somebody who likes it up the backside.


Much of this speech will be based on stories from My book 'French and Spanish Cricket' , a signed copy of which is in the raffle. Feel free to auction it on if you win it as the cheapest new copy you can get from Amazon would set you back £28.02. Don't despair if you don't win however, as you can download the E-Book' French and Spanish Cricket for Beginners' for a fiver. If you can't afford that, then you are not the sort of person Gravesend Cricket Club wants at their future functions and you'll have to go to my blog which is free.



I can see by some even redder faces that a few of you haven't downloaded the e-book yet, unless of course it's because you're the sort of person who enjoys a good slap and have regroped the same pair of thighs .
There is a theme to the stories and it seems to be one of those words I am apologising for. The theme like my bowling these days is 'Shit', so it's just as well that we have eaten.

As you may know from some of the people not here tonight, dogs are not allowed on the Bat & Ball. That's a good thing as like me, you may be bowling shit but that doesn't mean you want to step in it. Unpleasant as it is, Dog shit does get a bad press. When you think of Northfleet Cricket Club, you don't think of Wombwell Park you think of Dog Shit Park. See what I mean?


In contrast I have seen Naturalists orgasm as they pulled badger crap apart.(No not David Attenborough, Please, I don't want to think that). I've been on field trips where the guides have tried to persuade me of the significance of cow pats to the Universe. TV gardeners wax lyrical about the powers of horse manure. Some say it's lucky for a seagull to crap on you from a great height. Yet the very same people go bonkers if they step on a dog turd even though they are guano white with bird shit.


Because of present day Health and Safety Regulations the Scientists who study natural history are no longer allowed to handle Badger pooh. To avoid just going through the motions to investigate the feeding habits of the badger they now study the stomach contents. What they do is play tapes of Des O' Connor songs by the badgers' sets at night time and return in the morning to pick through what the badgers have thrown up.


As we've seen on TV, many Test Cricket grounds and some of the grounds we've all been to, have a problem with seagulls. However, if you play or watch a game in Cornwall you'll never see a single gull on the ground, even at St Ives and Falmouth Cricket Clubs which are close to the coastline. This can be confirmed by those who went on the Gravesend Cricket Club Cornwall Tour in, was it 1999? Q will know.

As a kid I played with the bloke who was credited with getting rid of the seagulls. Like me now, he was in his sixties . He was a retired tin miner. He was called Tony Clearwater. The seagulls used to drive the miners crazy when they came up to the surface at dinner time to eat their pasties. That's Lunch time to the David Camerons of this world who easily get confused when Cornish pasties are mentioned.


Tony used to chuck up bits of pasty to the most annoying seagull followed by a piece of Carbide. Carbide is what was used to fuel the miners' lamps. You drip water on to it and it gives off the inflammable gas Acetylene (of Oxy-Acetylene welding torch fame). You could imagine if water does that, what a gull's stomach contents would do. According to Tony, the annoying gull got about 20 yards away before it exploded. The rest of the gulls got the message and went off to annoy the holiday makers eating their cream teas. I've heard that these days the seagulls plague the Coronary Heart Disease Unit at Treliske Hospital near Truro.


The lovely Lady wife over there knows her shit. Floaters or sinkers, there's no dingle berries on her. We were in Spain coming out of yet another church, or was it a castle? It was on the village High Street. You had to watch your step as there was loads of pooh on the pavement. Being me I made some comment about it being from the pedigree dog whose owner she had been chatting up earlier in the day. She said 'They're sheep droppings.'


Me being me again, I poured out the scorn- 'How do you know they are sheep droppings? Why shouldn't they be from goats? We haven't seen a sheep since leaving Ramsgate. It's part of your Welsh heritage - That sort of thing. Before I had a chance to out-rant Victor Meldrew a whole bloody flock of them came around the corner. I was struck dumb as they passed by. I couldn't even say (Altogether now 'I DON'T BELIEVE IT.) The Shepherd didn't look at me but he gave her a knowing smile acknowledging a fellow sheep shite aficionado.


Just after that we met her chum with the Pedigree dog. She asked him if he was going to breed from him. 'No' said the bloke, 'He's been a bit snappy and bad tempered lately, and we're going to have him castrated.' I can remember to this day the glance that she threw me. Very similar to the one she's giving me now. I made a mental note to wear a cricket box if ever we visited that part of Spain again.


It wasn't the first time I'd been in trouble with sheep when we went abroad. 'Abroad' I said, not Wales. We'd parked our caravan overnight in one of those Aires-You know The French Motorway Service Stations. I was knackered after a long drive and went to bed soon after we got the kids off to sleep. The lovely lady tucked in to an apple saying it was the best way of cleaning your teeth before you go to bed. It wasn't long before our daughter wandered over and reversing the trend said that she couldn't get to sleep as she could hear sheep. She must have been about 8 at the time. There was no waking Snow White over there so I had to deal with it. I told her not to be so daft. Stop telling stories. We were in the middle of a motorway not in the countryside. That sort of thing. 'But I can hear sheep, Daddy ' she insisted.


In true Homer Simpson Style I told her that if she didn't get off to sleep she would be the cause of the deaths of the whole family by making me too tired to drive and having her mother tow the caravan. She stormed off back to her bed. I relayed the tale to my wife in the morning. She looked as stunned as those people in the Peter Kay TV advert where he frightened the life out of his daughter over the telephone while he was eating at the Indian Restaurant. She opened the caravan door with a righteous Lisa Simpson by her side pointing to one of those animal transporters that had parked right next to us.It was full of sheep, though they weren't in mint condition. Like those sheep I suffered big time. It taught me a lesson. I beeped my horn in support of the Animal Rights Campaigners outside Dover Docks when we got back. No more Lamb Bhoonas for me.

I did apologise to the Colts at the beginning. Now I'm near the end (Hurray!) there is a story I think they can learn from. What that is exactly, I don't know but here it is.

In my day I could bowl the odd quick delivery. I was 17, so we are in Cornwall again. The Police were looking for an arsonist. (Remember!) who was wreaking havoc in my home town of Camborne. Apparently someone was seen riding away from one of the crime scenes on a rusty bike. You've guessed it, just like mine. I used to leave it propped up outside the house. It wasn't locked. No need to. This was Cornwall and it was 46 ( ok 46 and a half) years ago, and besides, it wasn't combustible.


My Dad was the first to mention it. One of the people he knew at Mass on a Sunday was a policeman and he'd brought their suspicions to my dad's attention after the service. Despite a good reference from my dad, a detective came round the next day to look at the bike and interview me. My lasting impression of him was his shoes. Big brown brogues. He must have thought I was a red hot suspect. All those years of practice, lighting candles as an altar boy.( I was one of the few lucky ones not to have been abused). Who was I to pour cold water on his watertight case?


I co-operated but not in the way he wanted. I didn't admit to the crimes. I thought it best not too as it wasn't me who had committed them. Eventually the detective moved on to the theory of someone nicking my bike and returning it . 'What an honest arsonist' I said. He didn't like that at all but I think he saw the flaw in his argument. He disagreed with my 'I would have noticed if it wasn't there', until we were eyeball to eyeball and I said 'I can't see your shoes but I would know if they weren't there'.He ended up by saying 'You don't know how lucky you are that you don't fit the description.' Thank goodness Rupert Murdoch didn't own the News of The World at the time. They may have paid for the plastic surgeon to overcome that little problem.

He didn't know how lucky he was that he got out in the first over when he opened the batting for The Camborne Police side that was playing against our Milk Marketing Board team. (Sorry boys, you could get holiday jobs in those days). I didn't actually recognise him but I did recognise those big brown shoes. There was a time (And this could be the message for the colts) I would have toed the line as well as bowled only line and length, but I'd done a bit of growing up in that interview.


I wanted to launch a rocket propelled missile that would make his shoes become even browner. I wasn't too disappointed when he was out as I'd heard of the Good Cop / Bad Cop technique so I was quite happy to let the same delivery go to the number 3 batsman which reared up and hit him in the eye. After all it was Saturday and he could put some holy water on it the following day.

The moral? Don't put up with bullshit.

TMS - A life saver.

The sun is shining, Sir Geoffery is summarising and Aggers is texting like nobody's business. The kitchen is getting plastered, the conservatory is acting as a temporary kitchen and we can't get into the breakfast room because it is stacked to the ceiling with kitchen units. Sri Lanka are 82-3 at Lunch. Thank goodness for TMS.

Our digital weather station (pictured) is predicting rain. Things have gone up since the photo was taken. 94-3 for Sri Lanka, 12.9C and 998mbfor the conservatory. 'French and Spanish Cricket for Beginners' is in a void as far as Amazon's e-book ratings are concerned, barometrically stuck at 139. Like the temperature and England's bowlers it needs a boost. No pressure then. It is ironic as F'nSCfB reported on how stats from one dimension can influence another. Download it now from Amazon.com while figures are reading 20.9C, 1000 mb and 154-4, all of which are in accordance with the law of diminishing returns.

In July 2003 we were 233 kilometres from Clermont-Fd listening to the radio with England 233-4 in the Test against South Africa. Michael Vaughan was on 144, it was 17.45 French time, 22C and 435 miles gone. Instead of preventing the predicted batting collapse, Stewart had collapsed himself. The French road signs said that one in three deaths on the road are caused by tiredness. Stewart had been in a while so we were quite worried. The lovely lady wife who had been driving for some time gave a yawn making me less concerned about Stewart's welfare and more about mine.

She broke into song in an effort to stay awake. Serious and immediate action was called for. I adjusted the Climate Control with an inaudible twitch of my buttocks. The effect as intended was instant, like with smelling salts. Her grip on the wheel tightened instantaneously and the gritting of her teeth indicated that the emission was accomplished. The procedure could rival rock salt as a life preserver. Stewart wasn't given salt tablets as it wasn't cramp, he was given anti-inflammatories and a runner- McGrath.

Aggers commented that he was looking forward to the likely mayhem with the presence of a runner. He helped the good lady's concentration by talking dirty to her with expressions like 'Balls are jagging back'. I regretted that Peter Willey and Dickie Bird weren't umpiring as references to them would have helped her maintain her attention, conjuring up memories of his infamous 'Leg Over' broadcast with Brian Johnston. They did a memorial to Johnners on the radio. I'd recorded it on a tape that had Samuel Barber's 'Adagio for Strings' on it. We put on the tape when Radio 4's Long wave reception fizzled out. Both the tribute and the tune could be heard at the same time. Talk about a tear jerker - we had to pull over for fear of messing up the electrics and so the lovely lady wife could cry herself off to sleep.

Back to back hundreds for Jayawardene. 26.3C. No sign of rain.