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.