Happy in Defeat

 Our most recent league came took us across to Collingham, a former happy hunting ground of mine where I took plenty of wickets in the days our third XI used it as a home ground. 

Ah those happy days when I could still bowl my left arm swingers. 

Collingham thirds had beaten us pretty comfortably a few weeks ago, and today we were going in with a another youthful scratch side, boosted by our veteran grandfather and with a couple of players from our successful women's outfit on board, who are very happy to be referred to as youthful. 

As is customary, we fielded first, and we knew were up against it very early. One of the openers has been scoring runs for fun lately, and the other was the deaf cricketer we had come across last time - who it transpired has played both cricket and football for official England Deaf sides. 

A bit above my pay grade these two, and indeed, they were soon in the runs against our bowlers, including the bowler who wears deep black shades when he bowls. No joy for him, or indeed anyone. 

They put on 203 for the first wicket. But in spite of that we kept working in the field and never let our heads drop, and we fielded pretty well. Better players on the day, all you can do is say "Well batted!"

One opener retired on 102, while the dear cricketer unluckily nicked off for 97, before the same bowler castled the number 3. 

Speaking of luck, well I didn't have any. My first ball missed the top of middle stump by millimetres, The Man from Blidworth dropped a fairly easy catch, there was a missed stumping, balls looped in the air and didn't go to hand, or beat the edge of the bat without catching it. 

So yes, the good mood was not universal...

When we batted, we started well against The Fireman Next Door To My Stepfather, but it was the young swing bowler at the other end who was causing the problems, initially luckless with edges going between the various slip fielders, but eventually he made the double breakthroug. 

As ever, I was umpiring at the time. 

Another couple of wickets fell, then one of our lady players joined the steadfast grandfather, and there then followed an excellent partnership, in the cricketing sense, which lasted for nearly an hour. The run rate didn't matter, we weren't going to win, it was all about putting up a fight and going for batting points. And we were getting them. 

All the while, The Grandfather was nearing an excellent 50. And guess who went out there as last man when he was on 49? Yes, me, 15 runs all season and an endless series of ducks. This did not look like it would go well. 

I managed to somehow fend off a few deliveries, until when on the last ball of the over, the keeper behind me fumbled the ball and it ran down towards the sight screen. The Grandfather ran for the bye, while with the only tactical knowledge I had, I urged him, gently, to "GOOOOOOO BAAAACCCCKKKK". 

It took him a while, but eventually he did. He got his 50 off the first ball of the next over with a single. The next ball after that, I was castled flapping like a humpbacked whale at an outswinging yorker that was utterly wasted on me. 

Still, a lot of people were happy, and so it didn't matter.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.08.24

Pints and Run Outs

 I wasn't captain, for our home Sunday game against West Bridgford Legion, but as I arrived at the ground an hour before the match and spent time giving myself rope burns sorting out the entire boundary, I sure felt like I was. 

As I did when finding the scorebook, rooting around for a match ball, and wondering anxiously if eleven players would actually show up after a major club drinking session the night before. 

But, they did, albeit very hungover, and rather more interested in watching Ben Stokes bat in the test match than our own lads as we batted first against a very friendly opposition side, one of whom was enjoying the bar facilities liberally while he fielded at deep square leg with pints hidden behind the scoreboard. 

We had a strange sort of innings, with fast scoring but regular wickets falling as the pitch proved be a bit two paced. A deluge of extras courtesy of a pace bowler with a distinctly suspect action helped move things along, but every so often a ball would keep low and castle the stumps. Thankfully one of our bats stuck it out brilliantly and helped us to a competitive total of 161.

I got a rare go with the bat at number 10, and failed to score by trying out a ridiculous slog sweep third ball to a dead straight one that knocked my middle stump out of the ground, while the third team captain stood there essentially telling me how rubbish I was. Well, it was, and I was. 

Not batting for long did give me a chance to explore the thistles growing at one end of the ground, finding another bee mimic hoverfly while a small tortoiseshell mooched around in the long grass. The local buzzards were aloft too. 

With the test match now over, and hangovers eased, our team seemed a bit more interested in fielding. When our young and rather too fast for the occasion fast bowler ripped the stumps apart of a couple of their batters, before we decided to rest him and let other bowlers have a go. One of those being myself.

After a horrendously awful net session on Thursday, I thought I was going to be blasted all around the park, but it went ok, with me snaring their opening bat with a ball that turned and bounced on him, before the skipper caught it nonchalantly one handed. So, one wicket in my first spell with this sort of flightly style of not very off spin I've developed.

Wickets fell regularly, apart from one of the Legion's lads who scored a very decent 50, his first ever. I did get him caught out right at the end though as we done by 25 runs. 

Probably the most noteworthy thing that happened was that I registered my first ever credited run out, the fact that it was a terrible throw that the keeper was only just able to gather didn't matter to me, I felt rather pleased with myself. 

Another Sunday victory in the bag, five from five!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 03.07.23

Jailbreak!

 Despite various rehab exercises I've been doing, and also sitting like a lemon with a freeze pack wrapped round my ankle, the tendonitis isn't settling down much and I'm getting frustrated with having to rest the tendon all the time. 

It's not good for my mental health, and it isn't good for you, dear readers, as it means I haven't got anything to show you. 

So, fed up after a mix up at the chemist with my repeat prescription, I just went home, got and my bike, and headed off to first take a look at the lake, and then journeyed up the N64 cycle path to Cotham.

An unpleasant vision in a bright red waterproof - that I had to stuff in my rucksack as I got far too warm - I flushed all the redwing from the hawthorn bushes along the track. The crows were far more composed, cawing in disdain. 

It was a grey day, with flat light, but I was just relieved to be properly active outside. It wasn't a long ride, only 15km, and it is clear that my fitness is suffering, but I intened to try and keep getting on the bike for short rides when the weather allows. 

I owe it to my brain and to you.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 28.11.22

A Fresh Dose of Blossom

Another weekend, more flooding, another storm. Jorge is busy whipping through the Midlands, as I type this my plants outside are preparing for another few hours of being knocked over in their pots.

At least the new blossom hasn't been blown off the trees, although the magnolia pods are being blown off the branches and lying on the floor, looking like the sort of furry testicles contestants on "I'm a Celebrity" have to eat.

I haven't got the heart to visit our cricket ground, but the River Devon has burst its banks for the millionth time this winter and you can see where the park runners have been diverted to avoid going waist deep in the floods; their footprints have churned up the paths in different parts of the park. I wish I could be doing that again but I'm always shattered on Saturday, and I'm worried about my knees and hip.

I noticed last evening that the Blackbirds have started singing deep into the dusk, one was giving a real blast last night somewhere near my garden.

Still haven't seen any bees, but as soon as we get warmer weather they will be out chaffing away, not to mention some chiffing as well.

When that happens, and the first brimstones fly, we will know that Spring has begun.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 29.02.20

Meeting with a Grebeling

This is one of the two young great crested grebes I previously saw being fed fish by a parent, complete with its stripey head!

There's always something endearing about waterfowl chicks, with their downy plumage and oversized feet, and these grebes are no exception, scooting around after their mother like aquatic zebras. They have been lucky that the weather has been mild, and the lake unfrozen so the fishing is easy. A few winters ago they would have struggled; thinking of 2010 and 2011 where the lake was frozen for weeks on end.

Soon, the grown up grebes will begin courting, with their elegant dancing and weed giving ceremonies. I hope to record that for you this year!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 04.02.16

Non Particular Newark Wanderings

Today I walked with no specific goal other than relaxation and recovery. The weather was fair if not stifling, and I'd be happy to see whatever I saw, as long as there were tea and ice creams along he way.

The tea was taken care of at Rumbles, where small tortoiseshells were loving the flowerbed, and along the paths I saw red admirals, and what must be newly emerged second flight commas. I hadn't seen a comma until today, and was rather relieved to see their familiar deep orange, ragged, wings sunbathing on a nettle leaf.

Also new in the air today was a brown hawker dragonfly over the second pasture, flying at angles, bronzed wings glinting.

I kept walking, past the multitude of bumblebees and honeybees enjoying the fragrant lavender on the library park, and down Clay Lane to snap a small tortoiseshell feeding off a thistle. Clay Lane field itself was full of meadow browns - I like how they've left half the field to grow wild for nature.

I kept walking, looking out for architectural things for I was away from green space, other that the abandoned nature reserve at the end of Beacon Hill Road. Must write about that place soon.

Soon, when I don't have a thought of an ice cream to distract me as well.

See how many butterflies you can spot in this picture of the Rumbles flowerbed

Speckled Wood by the Devon Park woodland

Meadow brown on a thistle, Devon Pasture

Gee gees

Small tortoiseshell, Clay Lane

The bee in the sun

Bumblebee close up