Encore un fois it's been a time, but like that dog in Aumont-Aubrac you'll pick up my drift again eventually. It's a sign of the Times. I've been waiting, though not at tables, for my book 'French and Spanish Cricket' to be published. I know it's self publishing but it's not me delaying things. Hence my what I hope don't turn out to be vain thoughts have been on a more distant past rather than the recent one that the blog is supposed to cover. It was not surprising to see that the new 007 author rated Ian Fleming's Bond novels as being very well written. 'La double creme de la double creme'. He found only one cliche in the whole lot. If you've read them all and feel a need, 'French and Spanish Cricket' will more than fulfill it by the time you finish the first page.
Mixed fortunes continue with the cricket, I'm telling you. Some further serious slap. One of my overs took about 20 minutes. The batsman kept hitting me out of the ground and we didn't have that dog to help sniff out the ball. All the local gun dogs were at the Kent Show at Detling. 21 off one over, though he was dropped off my last ball. I may have been shaken but I was also stirred. Like Ursula I caught him out myself later coming in from the deep. People sitting around the ground broke into applause. It was very kind of all four of them. How it stuck I don't know. The batsman was young but already a gent. I wish I knew what his secret was. His 'Good catch' just beat my 'Well batted'. He was their opening bowler. He came back on to clean us up at the end. I got 30 not out, including a straight six so I was just about in credit. He was a credit to his club too.
We went back to their club house on Meopham Green where drivers returning from the Kent Show with windscreens intact waved to thank me for not bowling on the Green. One of our guys with whom I had not played for a while told me that he had seen myself and the boy on TV drinking at the pub in Brisbane where the Barmy Army were stationed. He also saw us going into the Gabba where the Gestapo ground authorities were entrenched. He could have been the last one to have seen my ice blocks that they confiscated. The missus had said that she hadn't spotted us, though it is hard when you are dozing off in front of the cricket and I don't think we were on Neighbours. I asked the guy where he had watched the Tour de France. Strangely he replied that he had just missed it. He must have been the only Kentish Man of Kent to have done so. Before I could rebuke him for missing an experience not to be missed, he told me that he deja viewed it in Paris twice. 'Apres moi le deluge' and all that. I'm not quite in agreement; the missus certainly wasn't. Coming into Gravesend dressed up in your lycras has its attractions as the hordes of Kentish ladies on the streets would confirm. Stop it!
Despite there not being decent knicker elastic in those days, let alone lycra, not in affordable prices anyway, and unlike Zoe and Dave who went to Brisbane we still spent our honeymoon in Gravesend. We wanted to move in to our new old house. I don't think it was out of order. You could afford first time buyer houses in those days. Today is a different sort of material world. It was the house warming part of the marriage ceremony. It's gone more global since. There's still a flicker of life in the old boiler yet even though the pilot light may have gone out, so perhaps Paris is not out of the running for a second honeymoon at this stage. I'll recycle as much as possible and catch one of the first trains from Ebbsfleet which is just down the road, near where Gravesend and Northfleet used to play, to reduce our carbon footprints to or is it from King Wenseslas proportions. By the way, shame on you for thinking that I was referring to the missus as an old boiler rather than my inner to outer workings.
I got quite a few photos of all and sundry watching the peloton, but only a brief recorded glimpse of a couple of thighs of the riders themselves. Never mind as I think the missus has them all etched on her mind. I'll get my own back when the female version that is featured on those adverts in the bus shelters au moment rides through. I'll be on the look out for the Queen of the Mountings who will be wearing I understand a titsy witsy yellow polka dot bikini. India Thursday. I'll see how things develop for the last day. I'll phone my mate the MCC member first this time in case of rain. I came across an old hand painted cricket print on a stand at the Kent Show which was still going strong on Sunday. It was £27 so I left it. The framed print featured the Aussie Team practising at Lord's in 1899. Tell me if I missed a bargain. It included Clem Hill whose Stand I am sitting in on this the oh so significant last day at the Adelaide Test. I don't know if Clem saw anything like it in his day. But if not here's what happened Clem.
As you know Clem, we are 59-1. All seem to think it will be a draw. What do you think? I think the wind will blow my hat off. I can't remember whether I had the pigtails on or not. I'll see as I write up this nonsense. It was the Adelaide Test Match dinner last night. It was my first Christmas dinner. Roast turkey and the trimmings. The 'trimmings' were unlimited drinks. All free. I know we'd paid for it. But that is the beauty of 'all included'. Everything is free, there's no cut off point. I must drink more Aussie wine when I get back in case I get Cold Turkey. A case of Little Penguin was reduced to £4 a bottle at Asdas. It was really tasty. On Oliver Twisting only the rose was available at the same price. Somehow Rose doesn't seem to have the same ring about it. Gazuntide! Come to that 'Cold Turkey' doesn't seem so bootiful either. Bless you!
Fellow hotel guests are on the field doing their warm up. Gower and Atherton's Hire Car has got them safely to the ground on time and they're talking to the world. Squire Ian Botham and Whispering Death Michael Holding are standing poised. How did you compare to this lot Clem? Pretty well according to Wisden as you it seems were second only to team-mate and fellow old cricket print icon Victor Trumper as 'The Leading Cricketer in the World' in 1902. We all have to give in in the end. The missus knows the people who had the Old Print stand at the Kent Show. I'll ask her to get the Old Print for me. Of course I'll pay for it. You always do in the end. Tony Greig is having the same trouble with his hat as I was having with mine. The only difference is that he's got people to help put his back on. Vive la difference as the gorgeous lady returns my hat after a fellow gust blew it off lodging it in her upper apartments. A very uplifting experience all round Clem. Quite a coop. Thank goodness this didn't happen at Brisbane where the Gabba Ground Authorities would have accused me of barracking and the gorgeous lady would have had to have given me a wide berth, in case she was accused of harboring an undesirable. Pew! Enough of this folly, or it will come back to haunt me. And I don't mean you Clem.
Atherton has a cricket bat in his hand. He's handed it to Gower. Bat in right hand, mike ( not Holding, and no more as the joke was made elsewhere) in the left. He's probably showing the world how to face Warney. The others look as if they are waiting in the wings to send one down to him. It is the hat that goes with the pigtails as I have had more compliments since the gorgeous lady tied it up behind. Holding and Botham are off now and Gower seems freer with the bat. He goes, not out as far as I could see. I hear a groan up in the wings of the stand. I don't know if it is Clem fed up with Gower's wafting or my waffling. The Aussies are still warming up. I don't see The England. They must be in the nets. The Barmy Army are not here yet, though the leader bloke is, already planning the day's campaign. The wind should bring their dulcet tones to the hearing impaired greys like me so we can help drown out the opposition, not that I have seen that many.
It's lovely and warm today so the wind is on the whole welcome. As I was saying before that wind changed the direction of my thoughts, the dinner last night was brillo. Merv Hughes and Goochie were on their mettle. I didn't get their autographs but I did give them a blog card each. They looked puzzled, so they may not be reading this. I looked at Goochie's signature that my mate got on his menu to see if it was the same as the illegible one I've got on Goochie's book that I got in a library sale. I couldn't read it, but I can't say that I recognized it either. They told tales of Botham of Warne and of Tufnell and other larrikins. It's not for me to pass on what they said. It's only hearsay. I SAID IT'S ONLY HEARSAY! What they did say added to the evening. I gave the lady who put sun tan lotion on my knees on the way to Moreton Island a blog card. She said she'd look out for my pigtails at the ground. I said to her that I'd look out for her next time I went to Sandy Balls Holiday Park. I swept back my blond hair secure in the knowledge Clem that if the wind took it, like my knees it would be safe in her hands. Was the ball safe in yours Clem? Where did you like to field?
Atherton is now leaning on the bat with Tony Greig pacing up and down the wicket waiting for his moment or his satellite to arrive. I can't help; I can only hear planes flying past from time to time. They don't come into view because of your canopy Clem. No I'm not complaining. did you have wingeing poms in your day Clem? Holding is standing with another media group. The one that includes Mark Nicholas. How was it in your day Clem? Who was out there when you were warming up in their various minor roles? The old print confirms you did go through your paces, but it only shows a fierce looking umpire besides your own players. Major somebody.
People went for a drink after the meal. I gave the boy some money as they wouldn't be free any more. We sort of ambered our way betwixt and between the red light district in a thin red line (Booze and sun). The line didn't take long to dissipate. Some went where angels fear to tread. I went back to the safety of the hotel bar and bought a beer just before the bar closed. Dave the Plymouth supporter joined me in his Argyle shirt. I gave him the beer. I was knackered and soon I was sound asleep. I checked the boy was back safely in his bed before I went out for my early morning walk. I met the two street cleaners again who I had palled up with the other day. They pointed out John Buchanan, the Aussie Coach, as he was returning from his morning jog. He obviously wouldn't have fitted into Both's regime if what Goochie had said was so. No I haven't said what he said, even though it's no state secret.
One's called Carlo the other is a Mark. Carlo was leaning on his brush and we were putting the sporting world to right just like the other Mark and the media minors. John the Yorkshire bloke walked by and quipped 'Give Mike a yellow jacket and make him do some work!' I couldn't work out whether he was returning to the hotel after a late night out or whether he was trying to intercept John Buchanan to give him some verbal abuse about his early morning exercise progamme. A pity Goochie isn't around, he would have been able to tell. He's had experience. As I said it's not for me. I'm keeping stum. The Coventry supporter, Pete, wondered what the two guys and I talked about. It's like Goochie and Merv Hughes both last night and in their day. I can't really say. It just flew off the bat.
There's not a great deal happening cricket wise. Give him his due Merv Hughes said it would be 5-0, but being an Aussie selector he may have had to say that. Goochie said that there were only two possible results. A draw or an Aussie win. Warney and Stuart Clark opened up. 64-1 after 25 minutes. That's all of five runs this morning. I think it was Coventry Pete who showed us his Robbie Williams concert ticket. He's on tonight in Adelaide. Like my mate with the Tour de France I might give it a miss. The ticket cost $150. The gorgeous lady said she'd pay £150 for George Michael. I'd pay that to see you bat Clem but I think the time capsule I'd need would cost more than that. What I did buy was another phone card. The conversation I had with Terry, the missus' replacement for me took up all of my credit not to mention my credibility, Clem.
While the radio lot discuss Flintoff's ankle I'm still thinking about the young lady in the shop who sold me the card. The particular one was recommended as being the cheapest and longest lasting. I showed her the empty one, so that she could home in to the right section in her box. She said that it had been helpful as she had been away for three days and was only just getting back to routines. I asked her where she had been.'Anywhere nice?' She said 'I've been ill'. 'Oh' I said 'I'm sorry to hear that.' 'Quite serious' she said 'I almost died'. A kidney infection, I almost lost it.' I'd almost lost it by then myself. 'Are you OK now?' I asked her, ignoring the glances thrown by the boss bloke who was worrying about other customers not being served. I almost bought another card. She said she was. I've known a couple of people who have had similar problems with viruses. They're bad news. I'll pop in tomorrow for a newspaper and another Bulletin. 69-1. Inevitably a wicket falls. It's Strauss for 44. 10 runs in 40 minutes. The gorgeous lady's friend was talking to Mrs Strauss and Ed Joyce's girlfriend. She says she knows all the Middlesex team. They were worried that Strauss was out late last night. The CCTV cameras proved otherwise. Only joking! We have some serious cricket supporters here.
Collingwood's come out. Bell is on 26. For Fuck's sake! A run out. Excuse my French, Clem. Bell's gone. what a balls up! Didn't we just know it! 70-3. Backs to the wall job again. KP is in. Now he is out, by his friend Warney. It looked like a sweep, bowled around his legs. 73-4. Drinks. KP made 2. Please, please no! We'll lose this if we are not careful. This is official 'I wrote this at the time during the drinks break. Honest! The Aussies get rid of the giant drinks bottle. They want to get on with it, I mean get off with it. Collingwood and Flintoff both on zero. 73 plus the 1st innings lead of nearly 40. Thank goodness for those runs. It's going to be mayhem in the hotel tonight ( in my notes I wrote 'murder'). A late breakfast for the Aussies whatever. Now Flintoff. Caught behind off Brett Lee. 77-5. From where we are positioned Clem we could see Rudi's finger get into position before it's journey onwards and upwards from behind his back. So we slumped earlier than others. Unlike the Barmy army whose very raison d'etre is for periods like these, I could detect aggression amongst the greys. The same grumpy moans that Goochie et al had to field began to emerge.
Jones in, Collingwood on 1, Flintoff gone for 2. Appeals from the Aussies. Shouts of 'Cheats' from the greys. The Aussie fans are surprisingly quiet, though the Aussie, Aussie, Aussie chant is more frequent now. Two kites are flying in the distance. Now there are three. The kites are white with long red tails. We'll need our long tail to wag today. There's 4 now. Like the Aussies tails up. Heads we lose. How many are in our tail? H, H, and A. One crashes. I hope it's not an omen. It's an Amen that we need. Warney keeps plugging away. Jones 2, Collingwood 1. Could this be another Botham's Ashes? Out for a 150 lead, then we bowl the bastards out. Excusez moi encore un autre fois, Clem and I won't be calling them that when they get back to the hotel rather earlier than they would have liked. Another big appeal. This time from Brett Lee. Thankfully Rudi's finger stays firmly behind his back.
Lunchtime. I help the gorgeous lady write her post cards. 'Glad you are not here, swam with the dolphins, danced with the lounge lizards, koalaed the kangaroos, that sort of thing. The gorgeous lady's friend said that Strauss shouldn't have been given out. It wasn't Straussy who told her. They said so on the radio. Hostilities recommence with a vehement appeal. Turned down. 90 up. Jones goes. Caught Hayden bowled Brett Lee. Somebody said 'Cometh the man cometh the hour'. It's 1.52 pm now. We'll see what happens. They say that it has been stormy back home, well it will get more than stormy for Gilo if he does not come up with the goods. Well he comes up with the bads. Caught Hayden bowled the usual for zilch. The Greys go greyer. I bet Hoggie didn't think after getting his seven for, he would be in now at 97-7. Collingwood is only on 8. It was about 2.05 pm when Gilo got it. So much for cometh the hour. 13 minutes or so. Hoggie survives an appeal. Another eruption as they all go up. Steve Bucknor's finger doesn't. This must be the earliest that Hoggie has had to do his night watchman role. 99. I was just about to join the Army with their wind assisted clap when Warnie trapped Hoggie. An inside edge on to the stumps. Harmison comes out. Collingwood takes the single. Lee has got 5 balls at Harmie. The birds did not fly off when Hoggie was out. It shows you how few aussies are here.
Harmie gets a single off the bottom of his bat. 107-8 at drinks and McGrath hasn't even bowled in this innings. 36 overs to go. Less 2 for between innings. McGrath comes on both fresh and refreshed. Collingwood must have great trust in Harmie as he takes a single very early on in the over. Harmie gets an edge but it goes into the gap. Harmie must be having an effect on McGrath as he bowls him a wide. All a plan of course as McGrath gets Harmison lbw not playing a shot. Once again we see the early finger movement. Were you a bowler Clem? Sometimes you don't need to see the twitch, you just know. 119-9. Warney. 1 ball to Collingwood, then 2 then 3. A single. The grouchy greys are grumbling. 'Ridiculous' they chant Gregorianly. Ils accusent Collingwood for not protecting the tail, but why should it be his ass on the line after scoring 206 in the first innings? 4/5/6 Anderson survives. Panesar comes out with a drink and no doubt with a message to provide Anderson with a shelter. Something like 'Watch your ass, mate. The greys have got it in for you.' For the first time Collingwood refuses a single. He got the message. He's got Anderson taped.
There's complicated things about when tea is. Oh how I love the game. We Dot Cotton on to what the Army are doing. We cheer every ball that doesn't take a wicket even if there are no runs off it. It's 3.31 pm 123-9. I think there's 2 overs to go. Anderson wants the site screen moved. 3-32 pm. McGrath sets off, bowls and appeals. We boo. Anderson isn't ready. McGrath has to restart. 3.33 pm another appeal and another. Warney appeals like nobody else can. There's an appeal every ball. The greys get confused. Even the bloke in front appeals. 3.36. They surround Collingwood. I'm sure I heard an appeal from the stand. Was that you Clem? He gets a two. There's a drop. Two of them drop it. 3.38 pm Warney's over doesn't get a wicket. McGrath bowls. A play and a miss by Anderson. The Hans go up, as I tuck into a Danish. I told you I was expecting tea by now. 21 overs to go according to my calculations based on what is on the giant scoreboard. You couldn't hear the sound of a pin drop but you could hear the sound of the site screen reversing to type. 3.42. The finger twitches. He's got him. He being McGrath. Him being Anderson. 129 all out, a lead of 167.
I've miscalculated of course. God knows what I was looking at. 168 to get in thirty bloody six overs. The gorgeous lady pours me a cup of tea from her flask. Tea at last, tea at last Oh God all my tea at last. Or 'Thanks, I can do with that' as I said at the time. They get 10 off the first over and 2 off Flintoff's first two balls. the gorgeous lady says that they are making it look too easy. They are running everything. Almost a run out. The giant screen shows that whoever it was would have been a gonner. Unruffled they take another quick single. Langer 7, Hayden 6. I tell you what. Ruffled or not, those birds won't stay grounded if we get a wicket. Waltzing Matilda drowns the Barmies. There seems more of them now. Out of the woodwork I expect. Flintoff slows things down. 2nd ball Hoggie gets Langer. Caught Bell. We go bonkers. The birds stay put. It must be the Aussie fans' bad breath that gets them to move.
Here comes your boy, Clem - Ponting . The Army sing now. Is salvation at hand? 14-1 as Ponting gets off the mark. We interrupt this blogcast with the news that there is no play at Lord's,TMS goes off air 5 minutes after I turn on the radio, 5 minutes after The BBC replaced The Open with an episode of Coast because of satellite problems in London. It didn't even work on terrestrial so it's not pie in the sky. The boy has had to cancel the end of term school cricket match. The Missus' school has got its summer barbecue tonight. No I'm not wingeing Clem I'm just having to change my 'What are you doing in your retirement?' answers. I don't know how far they got around the coast, but the golf is back when I turn the telly on again. India are 214 all out, but you'd know that as it was at Edgbaston in 1996.
The Wisden Cricketer included my Blog in their classified section this month even though I hadn't asked them to. I should really send them the £15 as there is much about the Spirit of the game au moment. Are you part of that Clem? England in New Zealand is tempting? the sun shines, but I think our game will go the same way as Lord's today. A bloke in the Wisden magazine letters moaned about the sky high prices at Lord's such as the '£5 pies'. He could have read my last blog entry for support. Amazingly Lord's will be fit for play in about 20 minutes. Maybe the pies are paying for the drainage system. A worthwhile investment if they get 10 overs in, which didn't look to be a possibility just a couple of hours back. The radio said that the outfield water drained through as if going into a sponge. Gordon will be on the phone by now to see if he can get his money back that he gave towards the flood victims. The Gabba ground authorities will certainly be using up the credit on their phone cards as they get a whiff of how to infiltrate the ground more efficiently. Excitement at Lord's. Pietersen must have been taking notice of Christopher Martin Jenkins' Cowdrey lecture as he walked. Did the wicket keeper know? Who knows? Justice prevails. Even though the umpire gave him out. So much for justice as Pietersen is out the same way. England lose 4 wickets as their good start drains away more quickly than the surface water did. Did I hear Vaughan's phone ring? Monty comes in.
Monty won't be much use here will he Clem, as he can only come on with drinks and messages. The message has got around the fair city of Adelaide. The Loony Boonies have grown in numbers. Four to Hayden. 20 up. A good ball by Flintoff. Six overs gone after this. Thirty to go. Four to Ponting. 28. Big hit for Hayden off Freddie. 32. Yes! Hayden is out. If we can screw up so can they. Collingwood took the catch. It was so high up we could sing 'That's out! out! out! 20 times before he took it. Gilo comes on not Harmie. Botham makes the same point about flood victims coveting the drainage rate. Monty doesn't do much with the bat against India. Bell is bowled not Anderson so I can't say that both Bell and England who are left high and dry.
At least I can concentrate on Adelaide. You must have the same problem Clem. It's hard to choose what to watch with all the satellite channels. It must be impossible with those Heavenly views. Here Ponting is on 20. Hussey half of that. 23 overs to go after this. Ponting gets a four. The gorgeous lady like England is beginning to feel the heat. She said that in other circumstances she would drift off to sleep. I said that if she did I would whisper sweet nothings in her ear like 'Ponting's out'. If that didn't work I'd mimic Cyril and ask her for the next dance. It didn't work for Harmison either. 84 runs to get in 19 overs. 77 runs as the birds change ends, driven out by the fanatics who are out arriving the seagulls by 4 to 1. Like the birds we are in disarray. 100 up for them. Ponting 38. Flintoff is exercising. He's probably practising his excuses now as Pietersen comes on. The birds clear a path between mid-on and mid-wicket. One run to mid-wicket causes the birds to close ranks. The greys are already in this formation. Indeed unlike the gorgeous lady who didn't manage it, the first of the few have drifted off.
The missus texts. She's listening to the radio in bed after my alarm call. She's tucked up in bed with Ginger the cat so there's no need for alarm. The drinks bottle is poised to come on. 2 for 109. 59 to get. 15 overs to go. We are fucked! Sorry Clem, not that you are.48 for Ponting ,35 for Hussey. Even the Barmies seem down. That may well be but it is Ponting who is out. Gilo got the wicket and according to the missus' next text Ginger got the push. 116-3. They need 52. Alice Springs eternal. A four brings the birds back to our end despite the ever increasing din. The departing greys are replaced five fold by bleached blonds. Flintoff gets Martyn out. 125-4. 6.03, 11 overs to go. 43 to get. They get 7 off one ball. Overthrows. Which kung fu that? 'Are You Scotland in Disguise?' I don't know which lot are singing it! 31 off 9. Where are Dave and Zoe now? 25 runs. It is the Boonies who are singing. 'You're not writing! You're not writing! You're not writing anymore! You're not writing any more!' It's an ill wind, Clem.
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