A Last Hurrah, and what a Hurrah it was

Our cricket season traditionally ends with a friendly against our friends at Upton CC, a beautiful if eccentrically laid out village ground about 6 miles away near Southwell.

In recent years, these games have always been cold, breezy and mizzly, which has generally led to a lower standard of play as the uncovered wicket has been tricky. However, it was a stunning afternoon in a picturesque location, and a good wicket led to some great cricket.

We batted first, and with most of the team late - including myself - an emergency batting order had to be put in place, which led to our usual number 11 opening up. It didn't seem to harm us though, as we rattled along at 5 an over thanks to some ball-losing big hitting by one of father and son combos who both got 50s. I spent a bug chunk of time searching for a lost ball in the overgrown orchard full of pears and apples on the bough, and low level thorns scratching my already battered legs to pieces.

The grass was so long no-one would have found the ball if it was the size of a space hopper.

I didn't think I would get a bat today, but as it happened I did, long after the friendlier bowlers had gone off and some speed merchant was ripping through our lower order. I lasted two balls, the first of which I edged for a single, the second of which cut back like a scimitar and cut me in half before knocking over off stump.

A disappointing end with the batting. I worked really hard over the winter and started well this year, but have barely batted in matches and it just hasn't happened for me. This guy was too quick though. Way too quick.

We scored either 217, 210 or 204, depending on whose maths you went with. We settled on 210 from our 40 overs, and went out to bowl. I opened up, and hand no bloody luck as usual, with the skipper dropping two chances off me at slip, and me beating that bat with deliveries that moved sharply off the seam. Indeed Upton had got about 80 on the board before a wicket fell, when the skipper held one back and beat a slogging batsman.

It's after that that things all got a bit mental.

First up, having moved to slip after one of fellow bowlers had laughed me out of sight when I had tried to field there before. I did what my skipper could not do and held a catch. But it was no dolly.

The worst fielder on the team held a fairly stunning catch, he says modestly, one-handed, over my head and also behind me. To the say our team were dumbstruck would be putting it lightly. I know I was, I couldn't believe I'd held it.

I then assaulted the offending doubting Thomas of a bowler, yelling "WHO CAN'T CATCH? WHO CAN'T CATCH?" in his face while jabbing him in the chest. The batsman, who was on 49, must been on the verge of vomiting.

There now followed a rapid swing of the pendulum the other way, as the Upton fast bowler began to repeat his feats with the ball with the bat, losing several balls over hedges into paddocks and orchards like they'd been fired from a cannon. He But on about 60 with about 50 runs required, he fell to a staggering catch at long on.

Our fielding then went mental. We produced two direct hit runouts - one by the skipper who gently rolled down the stumps like pipe smoking lawn bowler David Bryant - and another good catch, before our young mystery spinner produced two stumpings and bowled the last batsman 1st ball to seal victory by 20 runs.

It was the best game of cricket I've played all year, in terms of atmosphere and enjoyment by a long way.

God this is going to be a long off-season.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 08.09.19

The Fruit Tree at the Library

I'm very tired again today after three days of running and other exercises, and rain meant it was a bit of a quiet day today.

I visited the library, took some books back, read a bit as I love to do, and went shopping. That was it. I liked the vivid yellow tree in the library gardens, a tree that has fruit on it too, like a quince or a crab apple.

I love the library gardens, this time of year there are about a  thousand different shades of green on view. As well as a load of fast food wrappers. But no folk with substance issues today.

Tomorrow I will be back out on the road, running in hopefully dry conditions, seeing if my holly tree gets any visitors, wondering if any redwing or fieldfare are about, seeing if there are more sparrowhawks flap flap gliding over.

So much to see I guess and you don't have to look very hard.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 06.10.18

Tarty Grapes

Remember the post I made a few weeks ago about the grapes on the vine out back?

Well they have now ripened to the extent that I was able to taste a few; the nip at night hasn't been sufficient to kill off their development, they have darkened to a deep purple - red.

But how would they taste?

Well, I think it's safe to say that we aren't going to be calling up the juice man from Del Monte, assuming he isn't dead. They were distinctly sharp. But we've never had them grow to any kind of edible condition before.

The first thing I've ever eaten from that garden.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 22.09.18

The Futility of Growing Grapes

My parents have had a vine growing over the pergola in their back garden for years, maybe even as  long as 20 years. It twirls around the ivy in which foolish blackbirds try to nest as the cats try to eat them, and sends tendrils all over the wood, pointing  all manner of places.

Every year, it grows grapes, the jewels of Bacchus. And  every year, the frost  comes and kills them before they get to ripen properly and lose themselves of tongue folding face screwing bitterness.

They've come again this year, not so many bunches but grapes none the  less. They are beginning to darken.

When will the first frost take them from us?

At least the apples will be ok.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 31.08.18

Done in Through Cricket Really!

Last day of the league season, and the last few days I've dreamed of putting in a big performance; lots of runs and lots of wickets.

As it turned out I didn't do either. But it was a beautiful day and a good game. Pity 1) lady luck deserted me and 2) I was in a touretty mood, but a bad one.

So we bowled first, and things started slowly. Not many wickets, but not many runs. Good bowling. Good fielding. Then when I appeared after 15 or so overs, odd things happened.

Odd but not good. A catch went down in each of my first three overs. Grrrrr. I didn't let it bother me externally, but then I straightaway knew it wasn't going to be my day.

I kept on trying, as the sun shone and the buzzards cried, but even though I was making the ball reverse wing past the batsman's edge loads of times, the nicks stopped coming. I then got hit for a couple of 4s and thus got whisked off after 8 overs, and I was furious with myself for not taking a wicket.

Had a bit of daze for a couple of overs, then was fine. Fielded bloody well after that actually.

Wet Bridgeford Legion, for twas they we played, got 181-7 off 45 overs. Not unbeatable on a flat deck and I thought well if the bowling hasn't worked out, I can make up with it with the bat.

I was still optimistic at tea, which I ate too much of as usual. The sausage rolls at Collingham are A1, I tell you, likewise the scotch eggs. Luckily there were no egg sandwiches to cause flatulence by anyone in the dressing room. There certainly had been back at our HQ, but that's another story.

So yes, batting. I was put down at 11 again, despite being in better form. I was gutted, I thought I might get to go 9 again and get a chance to bat against friendly bowling. I didn't get to bat at all, as it turned out.

As before, I was in a convulsive mood for 15 minutes, then fine. Got rocketed but that's OK. I'm ultra competitive and don't like not being involved. Esepcially as realistically I've only got a year or two more of being even an average player! Psychologically, being told you are the worst bat in the side if you are of my sort of disposition really gets to you. You want to be good at something!

Again, a few ticks and a walk around the ground and I was fine. I even took my short off, although it went back on if anyone came within 50 yards of me. Or I was scrumping apples.

We made a fist of it, but none of our big gun batsmen fired - we made it to 149-7. Then we returned to HG, where a large group of first team players were planning on getting into the shower together.

Must be a sports thing.

Si

I Spit on my Batting

It becomes more of a comedy by the day!

I've been playing today, at our home ground against a sort of wandering cricket promoting side of over 40 players - in age that is, if there were 40 of them that be totally stupid and unfair.

I took the day off to play, as this is our special cricket week and they needed a couple of players. I love cricket anyway, so it wasn't hard to get me to play to be fair, but what I thought would be quite a genteel fixture against some middle aged chaps, ended up involving me bowling to guys who play 12 divisions above me and are very good at hitting my bowling for 4 and 6.

It felt like a Sunday.

For some reason, I couldn't stop bowling low full tosses, probably trying too hard, in between bowling the odd wicket taking ball - I ended up with 2-56. It was a pleasant afternoon, where we blooded a new captain who like me was expecting weaker opposition.

I was already sporting a large bruise from being smacked on the arm while having a practice, and then my hands smarted while fielding a couple of hard hit shots, I'm amazed with my degree of crapness I stopped them at all.

The clouds scudded over, a single raindrop was felt, the sun shone occasionally. The ground felt pleasingly soft under my spikes. The apples on the tree at the field end are nearly ripe. Other bowlers were better than me, it didn't matter. I've missed too much cricket in my life to ever be more than a third team player.

But what gets me is my inability to bat. I eventually went in at number 10, against pretty average bowlers, and after nicking one through the slips for 2, resolved to bat straight after that. Which I managed for about 4 balls, before a big floaty ball brought out the urge to drive the bloody thing.

I stumbled over my left foot, ended up doing a sort of ice skater pirouette, and ended up being stumped by miles.

The actual act of playing an offensive shot got me out. Trying to score runs ended up in me looking like an arse. I can play straight bat defensives, but don't seem to be able to hit the ball more than 20 yards before the cricket gods inflict some sort of calamity upon me.

It is doing my head in. I want to score runs. But luck, and temprament, are against me.

As well as my own utter clumsiness.

Still enjoyed my day though!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 24.08.17

Knapweed Land

I've been having a good, but very slow trot around yesterday, running painfully slowly after bowling 18 overs this weekend. Tere's a lot gone to seed - the teasels are over, the thistle heads have turned into clouds of fluff - but running up the steep drag off Clay Lane up to Beacon Hill there's a lot of knapweed in flower, and a lot of blackberry in fruit.

I did munch a couple, carefully selecting them from above urinating dog level. Very nice too. Must collect some for my parents. Blackberries that is, not dog urine.

The Beacon Hill reserve also has a fine collection of knapweed growing, but disappointingly it wasn't offering much in the way of butterflies or bees. Warmer weather and you'd find it covered in large and small skippers, I'm sure.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature