A Century on Scorched Ground

Today's cricket match saw our first return fixture with Sawley and Long Eaton, who were a bit short of a player - well, we've been there too - but were a nice bunch of guys who weren't bothered about it and were keen to  play cricket.

There was more cloud cover today, but it was still savegely hot when the sun was out and I was bloody relieved to get to bat first, although finding I was number 7 in the  batting order gave me a nose bleed and made my Saturday captain laugh out loud. He, like most people in the club, think my batting is rubbish. So do I but it doesn't stop me from trying.

It's just that I have the motor skills and co-ordination of a box jellyfish that has stung itself.

So, with the local lapwings being a lot quieter than usual and no swallows over  our ground we got underway, with me umpiring at square leg and not complaining about it for a change. And unlike the Basford Mill umpires last week, we knew how to count to 6.

I had my counting stones.

We got off to a poor start when our opener was out to a rubbish delivery from the world's slowest bowler - a poor innocent football was murdered afterwards by the look of things, but his brother was unstoppable, batting right the way through for 122 not out. Mr Dad from last week got 41, and then I made my best ever Sunday score of 13.

Most of the time I was nervous and not sure what I was doing, especially after my blundering about got me hit in a sensitive area. I edged one ball for, then another from a quickish bowler reared from a good length and headed straight for my nose - somehow I got my bat up there and hooked it for 4, my first and I'm sure only ever hook shot.

Then I played a brilliant cover drive for 4, to much amused applause, before alas getting bowled by a ball that kept low. This placated the opening bat, who on about 80 at the time didn't need  me be wasting time. His batting then moved onto another plane of brilliance, and his century was well earned.

We ended up on 214 for 6 after 40 overs, and when we bowled, soon had them two down. But not by me, by the much faster other brother! I bowled OK but feel so slow and rubbish by comparison to proper pace bowlers. Having two dropped catches go down off me, and a load of comedy misfields.

"Not very lucky are you" said the umpire from the opposition. Damn bloody straight!

Anyway, we chipped away, and although it took rather a long time, we finally bowled them about for 120 or so. But  no wickets for me. Annoying.

Lots of butterflies on the ground, and bees feeding off white clover but it looks so scorched out there.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 08.07.18

Where Cricket played Football and Lost

Today's cricket schedule was thrown into mayhem by the England football's sudden regainment of their ability to play football, and their thus having to play it smack in the middle of our Saturday games.

A few games got cancelled, a few carried  on regardless, but most adopted new formats and start times. Including our trip to Whatton and Aslockton - major landmark, a sex  offender prison - where we found ourselves barely awake at 10am on an already brazing summer day.

We bowled first, when frankly I wanted to rest and stretch and loosen up with my new stretching techniques, but no we were out there straight away. Nothing major went amiss at first, we bowled ok, but after I knocked over the second  opener, a couple of dangerous hitters came in, and the run rane began to increase.

Not helped my me bowling a few extras. Wides, always a problem, sometimes my body just throws itself out of alignment at the moment of delivery, but no balls is new this year. I think the issue is the endless stiffness and muscle trouble in my legs this year, I never quite know how I'm going to  run in until I do. Perhaps I tic when I bowl.

This rather infuriates my captain, or certainly it did today. However, I didn't go for many runs off the bat, and beat the bat so many times. I am having a frustrating season. I just can't take more than one bloody wicket. No edge goes to hand, any 4s off me are edges. Grrrr. I want 5 fors and to feel good.

So, the opposition slowly got away from us to get to 166 of 32 overs, which always felt like too many, and our batting didn't fire, especially against a young bowler who got the ball to swing. I battled hard and still got out  for zero to a good delivery from him. We were all out for 76 and quite relieved to get out of the heat.

Cricket never gets any easier.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 07.07.18

Latest Pretties

So many small skippers about at the moment, and small tortoiseshell numbers are increasing too.

Saw my first gatekeeper of the year at work, a lovely fresh male flitting around a hedge, stopping briefly now and then to stretch its wings to the sun.

The grass everywhere is scorched brown, and some areas  look more like a Greek island than usually damp Nottinghamshire.

Two games of cricket this weekend, one starting more or less at dawn thanks to World Cup!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 06.07.18

Garden Sitting

I have the Polish folk next door, I have my parents place, both of which have beautiful gardens as opposed to mine, which has a brown lawn and some pot plants that are struggling.

So you can look at them, rather than mine! I was too, sat out enjoying the cooling of the day after the furnace conditions of earlier. Needed it! A few bees did their thing, an idiotic wasp was doing its best to repeatedly get caught in a spider's web. 

Swifts went over. Mum thinks they are swallows.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 05.07.18

Aye Aye Skipper

Groans at the title, I know, but I can't be bothered to change it.

As ever yesterday on my ride home, I took time to look on the thistles that line the cycle track to see who was in residence, and on this  occasion it was small skippers rather than 5 spot burnet moths - why do we only get 5s on campus and not 6s? - that were settling in to have a good long feed and be rather less skittish than normal.

Usually the sight of a human, or their shadow, has these little furry dart flights flittering off. Not on this occasion.

A bit of a breeze made the camera focus angry, but I got OK shots.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 04.07.18

Sibthorpe by Bicycle

I haven't had a run out on the bicycle for a fair old while, and I didn't want to waste a lovely day JUST gardening, although I sheared down the dead cow parsley at the back of the driveway and took out some of the more lethal looking clusters of nettles.

I needed a bit more freedom and fresh air than that, so off I went on my bicycle to see the strange storehouse at Sibthorpe, the round building like a Mycenean Tholos tomb above ground. It sits next to the small, shallow River Smite, whose banks were well populated with glittering banded demoiselles.

Various butterflies flitted about; large whites, small torts, the odd comma. No-one was stopping to chat.

I carried on the road round to Elston, to the windmill house, and saw a beautifully floral wall in Thorpe. All the time realising that I'd forgotten to bring a drink and that my mouth made a desert seem wet.

Fool. But a nice 30km anyway.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 03.07.18

The Sweet Smell of the Grass at City Hospital

After yesterday's disappointments, it was off to the odd venue of city hospital to play Basford Mill, where their home ground is based. It is  overlooked by the cardiac unit at the hospital, and when my mum had her bypass 10 or more years ago, I used to watch the matches out of the window when we were visiting.

Today I was playing, and fearing the worst when we lost the toss and had to field - it was another chargrilling day, and the ground being in a depression got no wind and was like a furnace - when I was doing my stretches I put my hands on the pavilion and my palms were nearly burnt  off.

And then haze just took a little of the fierceness out of the day, and I took a wicket with my first ball! Their opening bat was too early on a gentle loosener, and just dollied it back to me. Even I can hold those ones, although not the one I got one hand to a bit later on.

To be honest I wasn't bowling that well, bowling too full and not getting much back or shoulder into my delivery. Didn't stop me getting the other opener caught behind though. However, this just allowed their dynamic Asian bat into the game, who warmed up by smashing me for a couple of 4s before going on to belt a great century. Luckily for us the batsman at the other end weren't so hot as the weather though, and we kept chipping away even while he peppered 6s in the hospital car parks and hedges.

We had various drinks breaks, thankfully, and it emerged from out travelling fans who had been walking the boundaries, that certain of the opposition were "smoking" under the trees on the far side of the ground. Interesting. No wonder their support was rather loud. Me, I stuck to Asda Mango crush when we batted later.

Anyway, thanks to our young spinners, we did bowl them out for 212 on a ground with some very short boundaries and a fast outfield. With our strong batting side, did we have a chance?

It seemed not, as after not the greatest tea we've ever eaten, our 4 best bats were blown away by some very fast bowling on a terrible wicket to leave us 20-4.  One minute the ball was round you ears, the next torpedoing your stumps out at ankle height. We were dead. A bit later a 5th wicket went down, our Saturday vice captain, and his dad went in. Joined by our Saturday captain, batting from three feet outside leg stump against pace as usual, the two of them just blazed boundary after boundary through the sky and across the lightning outfield. Saturday skip got out, Sunday skip went on, scored another boundary before getting bowled. Now slower bowlers were on, and I went on at number 8 to score, er, 9, with a couple of 4s of my own. After recent batting horrors, it felt like a century.

Mr Dad just kept blasting away. 100 up. 125. Eventually we were 135-9, and our stump high 13 year old spinner went in. We feared for his safety as the fast men returned. He hit them for 4. Mr Dad hit them for 6, scoring 18 off 4 balls at one point. 150...160...170. Could we do it? The fielders were getting ragged, the captain getting cross. Could we score an unlikely victory?

Sadly, no. Another fast bowler appeared, and castled Mr Dad for 86, his highest ever score.

Sad. But no matter, it had been a great game of cricket against what in general was a better side than us, and our youngsters and less heralded players had brought us so close.

A thrilling day.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 01.07.18