Reflections

 Not the pondering, wondersome kind. I have plenty of those, making my way in the world with neurological and neurodivergent conditions. I'm not very good at writing about them.

No, today we look at the physical sort brought about by vivid Christmas illuminations on a saturatingly wet day, the wet ground bouncing the lights in a slightly eerie glow. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 18.12.25

The Flooded Town

 Well, Storm Babet hit us much harder than it initially seemed it would. There was a day of strongish wind and a bit of rain, then a calm Thursday, but Friday it suddenly started raining and blowing a hoolie unexpectedly. 

Apparently, some sort of atmospheric block up north skewed the storm back down the east coast, and a month of rain fell in twenty four hours, blocking roads, cutting off villages and creating a lot of misery in places like Lowdham and Retford, that visits from a government minister - Teresa Coffey - did very little to alleviate, to say the least. 

Here, the Trent and Devon burst their banks, and also the vast housing developments on the edge of town caused hitherto non flood plain areas finding themselves underwater as the water ran off the estates. 

The cricket club is underwater, of course, as is the rugby club. Devon Pastures in the park was turned into a lake. A charity duck race has been cancelled, as it was feared the ducks would end up in the North Sea rather than the lock as they were supposed to. 

All that rain gave me a cold too. 

Si

All text and images copyright Cream Crackered Nature 25.10.23

Letting my Bat do the Talking

 Away trip today with the third team to take on Kirby Portland 3s, out in the wilds of Bassetlaw country near Kings Mill Reservoir.

We were playing at the evocatively named "Larwood Park", which despite harking back to great fast bowlers of days of yore, is actually a recently constructed rugby ground in the middle of a new build housing estate, onto which a rather erratic wicket has been rolled amidst the long, bumpy rugby grass.

It was a huge open and rather windy field, requiring an overnight stop en route from the dressing room to the pitch. We arrived only just in time, to be met by the always friendly Kirby captain directig us to changing room 3, which confusingly appeared to actually be a toilet until you went through a door at he back.

They do things differently out here. 

I was in the action quite quickly as our very young side - apart from me - took to the field to bowl first, with a catch being smacked my way in the first over, which I didn't see until very late and could only bump it off the heel of my hand. 

I think the captain was surprised I had even gone for it, to be honest. 

Kirby got off to a fast start against our young opening bowlers, but after racking up 50 in 10 overs, the underlying weird bounce of the wicket became more apparent for the tallers bowlers, and our captain and off spinner both bowled excellent spells as I watched mainly from the deep square boundary, exhanging chirpy chat with Kirby's captain and fielding the ball. We were taking wickets regularly, fielding well with th youngest player on the team taking a good catch.

I even bowled a couple of overs myself, with nothing either good or bad happening as I struggled to find a really full length bowling into the wind, before taken off for weather reasons to allow a bowler with a shorter run up to spped things up after we got caught in a sharp shower. Typically he then torpedoed two of the Kirby batters, I say batters as like us they were a mixed side. 

hey closed on 121-8 off their 32 overs, before everyone tucked into unhealthy supermarket bought food and massively sugary drinks.

We then had a nice family start to our batting, with a grandfather and grandson opening our batting, although the grandfather insisted I cut his brown Karrimor walking shoes from the family shot I took. He was also wearing my batting gloves, and using my bat. 

I was umpring, with the proviso that the grandfather, an extremely high quality bat and keeper back in the day, would take over from me later on. I was treated by an exhibition of extremely proper cricket, with textbook leaves, proper calling and straight bat shots. 

It was a slow start, but a solid one, although after ten or so overs the grandfather was starting to feel the pace and began to take a few more risks, especially after the grandson was bowled. In the process, he played some cracking big shots, making more runs with my bat in one innings than I have done all this year and last combined. Sadly, he hurt his knee taking a quick single and was run out for 29.

It was now over to our young wicket keeper, who batted with terrific maturity while losing a couple of partners to a slightly poor shot, and a terribly unlucky LBW I had to give off another torpedo bouncer.

Their then followed an excellent partnership with our captain, who put a big 6 over the flags at cow corner and some other good shots, while getting us back with the run rate. Me, I had umpired all this time, 29 overs or so, but with about 25 runs needed for victory, the skipper tunnelled out by another low bouncer, and I had to leave the field to get padded up. 

I wasn't needed to bat however, as despite their best efforts the slight lack of power and experience from our younger bats told against us and we ran out of time and lost by about 13  runs. Still, it had been a good day for our younger players, espeically the keeper who made a great 31 not out on that horrid pitch.

Always a good game with Kirby Portland 3s, and we enjoyed it despite the loss. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.07.22

Second Highest Scorer Tells you Everything

Today was just an awful day, in every sense of the word.

I began the day thinking we wouldn't get a full game in as the weather forecast wasn't pretty. I also began the day slightly hungover, but that's another story.

What I wasn't expecting was for our batting to be so relentlessly awful against teenage bowlers from Southwell. We batted first, while there was even a hint of blue sky, and there was no sign of disaster for the first few overs, although we weren't scoring any runs off the actual bat. Then our opener somehow slapped a rank long hot to mid on, and the procession started.

Only our skipper showed any form with 28, but for the rest of us, it was a real struggle on a slow wicket that made timing the ball hard, and a slow as anything outfield that stopped the ball even if you did make a good contact.

The bowling was straight, but hardly terrifiying. I was allowed to bat at number 10 today, and I went out there determined to bat as long as I could. And I found it easy going by my standards, just defending and pinching runs off anything on the leg stump. Even the coach said I had a good technique.

Then I tried to work one to leg that was too straight, and I dragged it on to my stumps. My fault for not playing straight. But my score of 6 was our second highest score. That's how bad it was. 59 all out.

The "fun" started when we then went into bowl. The skies were by now getting very grim, and from my vantage point a mid-wicket, I knew the skies were going to open on us. I wasn't going to worry about it affecting my bowling, as my bowling now seems to have been written off by everyone, but I worried about slipping over and doing something clownish. As duly happened when I fell over for absolutely no reason when a ball was hit gently in my direction.

The third team skipper got a wicket when our mid-on took a brilliant catch off a full toss, and then the rain came down and lightning flashed in the distance. This led to a slight soaking as we put the covers on and we were off for about 20 minutes.

However, when we went back out the skies soon went black again, like the weather in a dystopic future film, and within seconds we were left looking like drowned rats as a hailstorm hit the ground with Southwell needing about 15 to win. Wet cricket clothes feel absolutely horrible; your watery trousers keep falling down and the backside sags so you look like you've had a heavyweight accident.

The wicket was rendered marshlike, with squelchy run ups.

However, the opposition rather understandably wanting to win, din't want to knock the game on the head. They were happy to wait for two hours for the ground to try up, while inspecting the wicket - think the marshes of the dead in The Lord of the Rings - and saying if it was at their ground they would play on it.

The fact was that anyone trying to bowl at one end would have needed 8 inch spikes to avoid breaking both legs in delivery.

We as a team then just voted to concede that match to Southwell on grounds of player safety, and in the end sanity was restored.

And I cycled home with a wet backside.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.08.20

A Walk in the Rain

It has been duller than dull today, and again motivation has been hard to find - the tiredness that characterised my early weeks of lockdown seems to have returned.

That being said, I did managed to haul myself to the cricket ground, where some coaching was taking place, and then onto the park, happily listening to music coccooned in my horrendous yellow flouro cag-in-a-bag as the rain started to pour down.

It's another bee on bramble sort of day for my photographs, as there wasn't much to see on such a grim day. The exception to this was coming across a huge female buzzard at the back of our cricket ground, flushed from a tree and flying low across the farmland with wings like a plank.

The rain on the cricket square has attracted black headed gulls, who were doing a sort of formation advance across the grass digging up invertebrates with their beaks.

I'm hoping this lethargy will sort itself out as the weather warms up a bit. I need to keep my fitness up.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 10.06.20

Random Flowers Random Skies

The weather has been wet as hell the last few days, and really there's no reason to do anything other than hide from it. Apart from outdoor lovers like me who wait for gaps in the nearly endless matte grey clouds to go outside and have a look at what's out there.

There's still wasps around in the brighter interludes, but not much of anything else. Even the workplace cat has disappeared, and the rats aren't showing either. You'd think minus cat, we would be plus rats, but no.

As I type this I'm listening to LCD Soundsystem and trying to be electronically cool at the age of 47. I'm going to get back to my sketching and cartooning, if I can get the enthusiasm together. It requires a bit more effort than running and walking, strangely. I'm also doing plenty of reading, I avergage maybe 25 books a year.

I also want to see if I can pick up a basic small telescope to some more detailed astro observations than with my binoculars and try and do some photography with it.

Feel rather bloated!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 25.10.19

A Good Old Fashioned Leather Chase

So, off to Old Dalby today, not far from Great Dalby where I have played in the past and the ground is a relic of ridge and furrow farming.

Old Dalby is a similarly tiny ground, but it is boringly flat. It does however have a flock of sheep next door, which periodically come to the fence to bleat "You're craaaaaaaaaaaaaap" at hopeless bowlers such as myself.

To be brutal, there was a lot of crap bowled today. We bowled first and my first two overs went for 30 odd, short deliveries being thwacked into the fence a mere 40 yards away. It was grey and miserable which helped nobody's mood, including one of senior batsmen who ended up driving to and from the ground for 60 miles thanks to a team mate who never showed, and some mis-communications.

At least we had the best dressing rooms I've ever encountered. We all had our own personal coathanger, and there was a shower like a tardis. There was also a dog fouling warning that appeared to encourage owners to shove a wine bottle up a painful place. Poor doggo.

Soooo, yes, about the bowling. For some reason one end seemed cursed, for no-one could bowl well from there. Everyone got battered by an opening bat who went on to make 122. In about 20 minutes it seemed.

In an hour they had about 160 on the board. It was relentless, but our skipper kept our heads up, apart from those who kept disappearing into a ditch on the boundary like they'd fallen into the bowels of cricket hell.

Two of our lads did produce an ok spell however, which clawed it back a bit, and then muggins here came back at the end to knock over a few at the end. Not that 356-9 is anything to be thrilled about, my own 4-52 included.

Our batting, designed as it was to secure bonus points rather than win the game, sort of meandered along, taking us to 160-7, but the job was done by that, although I was slightly miffed I didn't get a bat lol. Not that I can bat.

A chance for more tomorrow. But sadly no cheese shop stumps.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 06.07.19

Threatening Skies Again

This is actually from a few days ago, we've had rather more settled weather the last few days and I've been too busy at work to get out at lunch for a look around. Few queen red tailed bumbles have been about, but not many other insects in the cooler weather.

Around the streets, the bird song is  incredibly loud, with great tits and chaffinches now piercing above the more melodic songs of the robins and blackbirds. Over at Rumbles Cafe, their bird box has had blue tits checking it out.

It is the season of love, evidently.

Me I'm keeping as busy as I can to stave off the usual troubles, but feel very bloated and overweight. I've been trying to make some dietary changes and cut out carbs, and it helps, but there's other stuff going on.

But, fun visits upcoming.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCRackeredNature 05.04.19