Angela Hewitt

Cricketers may or may not have heard of Angela Hewitt.  She is a Canadian pianist of hihest quality whose repetoire is focussed on Bach and Scarlatti.

She has brightened Fantasy Bob's days during lockdown by posting on Twitter recordings of her playing short pieces (Twitter videos are limited to just over 2 minutes).  The camera is placed at the end of the kwyboard and Angela's hand dominate the screen.  It is a view that is not available anywhere else.  Watching her hands move across the keyboard is a joy in itself.  

Unhappily for FB, and many of her fans, she stopped these recordings on 30 June.  100 up was enough for her.  FB rather feels the same - he has hoped his lockdown return to blogging has enlivened some readers during dull or difficult days of lockdown.  But, like Angela, he needs a bit of a rest.  So he won't be posting daily any more.  He may be back.  Who knows?

Angela Hewitt's wonderful playing continues to be available - search for her on Twitter @HewittJSB or on YouTube.

Fantasy Bob's Wittering will always be here.

 

Freedom of Movement

Under the watchful eye of the mandatory COVID Facilitator, and armed with his own ball in accordance with the regulations, Fantasy Bob was back in the nets again last night. 

It was like he'd never been away.  The middle of his bat remained wholly unblemished.  Meanwhile the edges had a prodigiously busy evening.  And there wasn't even an 11-year-old leg spinner in sight.  Just a few throw-downs.  'A bit rusty', his training partner kindly said.  'It'll take a couple of sessions for you to get it back.'  FB was grateful for the encouragement.  But it is hard to get back what you never had in the first place. 

FB returned home chastened but having greatly enjoyed himself.  Another outing is planned for later in the week.  It is unlikely that the middle of his bat will be troubled even then.  In fact it may go through the whole season undisturbed.

FB hopes that there won't be any leg spinners about.  He noticed that certain politicians are crowing in a nauseating fashion about ending freedom of movement.  If only that restriction applied to the deliveries pinged towards him by junior leg-spinners, which have altogether too much freedom of movement for FB's liking (or ability), FB might feel that progress is being made.  But this is not progress it is a huge step backwards - treading on the stumps in the process.   Always a disheartening dismissal.  The politicians have completely the wrong target and we are all poorer. 

Pasta Joke

Spoiler alert - there is no joke. 

 

Fantasy Bob is going all foodie below.  He has not quite got to posting photos of his dinner on Instagram (whatever that is), but that could be the next phase in his long slow decline.

 

He is prompted by an article in a newspaper today about pasta.  It go him recollecting that when FB was a growing lad his experience of pasta was limited to tins of Heinz Spaghetti (with the occasional foray into Alphabeti Spaghetti or Spaghetti Hoops).  Once in a while there was a tin of Heinz Ravioli.  That was it.  Fresh pasta meant that the tin had been opened less than 10 minutes ago.  The Spaghetti, and Ravioli, came smothered in a sweet red substance that could barely be called tomato sauce.  Al dente was not a concept, the spaghetti came out soft on the point of collapse.  The Ravioli was stuffed with something it would be wise not to think too hard about.  Obviously FB ate it all with relish and asked for more. 

 

There was also the alternative of home made macaroni cheese, which was excellent.

 

Spaghetti, ravioli and macaroni.  Three types. That was it.  Until when?  When did the pasta invasion happen?

 

Nowadays a dizzying variety of past shapes is available - both dried and fresh.  And that is just the tip of the iceberg.  Consultation with any reference book will show pages and pages of types -  flat, round, tubular, hollow, filled.  All with delightful Italian names.  Want to sound Italian?  Just recite several pasts varieties with a few hand gestures.

 

'Pipa!  Rigate nuvole maltagliati.'

 

'Stringozzi.  Pici bucatini, cavatappi.'

 Lines Dante might have written.

 

Pasta dishes can even feature in cricket teas these days.  And why not?  It is always going to be better than a spam sandwich.

 

So as he is in pasta mood, here are 5 of FB's fondly remembered pasta dishes from recent dining.

 

Capelli D'Angelo with n'duja ragu - part of a recent lockdown home delivery menu from Six by Nico.  Angel Hairs with a spicy but delicate meat sauce.  Exceptional.

Lobster Ravioli - a treat some years ago at Martin Wishart's Restaurant.  Perfect.

Spaghetti Marinara - frequently enjoyed at Bar Leo in Linlithgow, a favourite lunch spot for FB and his father in his last years.  Simple but so effective.

Mezzalune con Ricotta e Limone - open air fine dining beside Lake Garda - maybe anything would taste special but this was as delicate as the soft wind off the lake that kept FB and Mrs FB cool.

Spaghetti Carbonara - at the Belmonte Pizzeria in Obergurgl, Austria.  Still in the memory as FB's definitive carbonara, a perfect blending of bacon, garlic, egg yolk, even though it is several years since FB's last visit there. Perfect after a day's skiing.  (Italy is on the other side of the mountain from Obergurgl - maybe that's what made it so good).

 

 

Some Advice for Stuart Broad

George

Sandy

I see Stuart Broad's in the news.

Is he? He hasn't been doing press ups too has he?

No, he's been seeing a psychologist.

Oh dear.

Aye he's saying he needs to get his brain into Test match mode.

Maybe press-ups would help.

No. It's no joking matter. He's at his wit's end. He's worried that in the Test matches next week he won't perform because there's no crowd.

That's right - these matches are behind closed doors.

Aye. He says he 's used to relying on the crowd to get his emotions going.

I'm the same. It's the crowd that gets me going.

You can't call four men and a dog a crowd.

Maybe not, but they still get me going. Particularly the dog.

So you could tell Broady a thing or two.

I could tell him a thing or three.

Go on then, what would you tell him?

Not to worry about the dog.

But there won't be a dog.

Then he doesn't need to worry about the dog.

And?

He can focus on his bowling. See that psychology? Simple.

Feet of Clay

Here is Fantasy Bob age 11 (but not a leg spinner).  He is goalkeeper for Broomhill Primary School in Aberdeen.  This is the final of the Aberdeen Schools Cup.  It is played at Pittodruie Park, home of Aberdeen FC.  The photo shows FB failing to prevent the loss of a goal.  It is the first of three times he had to pick the ball out of the net.  Ruefully in all probability - though being still in primary school he might not know what the word means.  

FB does not remember too much of this occasion.  It is a very foggy night, as the photgraph suggests. The noise of the crowd - vast in their tens and twenties - ccomes eerily from the barely discernible stands and FB is for most of the match unable to see the other end of the pitch.  Most of the action is at his end anyway.

Broomhill lose 3-1.  There follows much wailing and lamentation.

One thing FB does remember is that he was wearing a pair of Tommy Docherty football boots.  These were as up to date as you could get having a fully moulded rubber sole and studs.  FB felt quite the thing in them - he may well have worn them in bed when he first got them.  They were evidence that he was a real footballer and they would guarantee stellar performance.  FB has felt an affinity with Tommy Docherty for all those years.  

Following his extended managerial career, the Doc became a pundit and then a favourite chat show guest.  He could be relied on for pithy one-liners, often pricking pomposity in the way only escapees from the Gorbals, where he was born, can.

To his horror, FB now discovers that the Doc did for cricket in one of these quips.  'Cricket is the only game you can actually put on weight while playing,'  he said. 

FB's world is shattered.  He now sees his pride in those boots was wholly misplaced.  His confidence was an illusion.  They were made to betray him. No good could come of them.  Another hero with feet of clay - just like FB on that foggy night.  No wonder Broomhill lost. 

A Lifestyle Survey

Fantasy Bob notices a report today of a survey by the Office of National Statistics which finds almost half of adults say that they had experienced some positive lifestyle changes during the lockdown. People reported that they were now able to spend more quality time with people they lived with, that they were enjoying a slower pace of life and less time travelling.  The positive lifestyle change people wanted to maintain after the pandemic was the increase in exercise.  Over one-quarter of adults said they are planning to make big changes in their life once the pandemic is over.  

All very interesting as far as it goes.  But FB was not in the sample.  He never is.  Surveyors avoid him well beyond the requirements of physical distancing.  But, as he reviewed the report, he imagined how, had he been in the sample, the interview might have gone.

The phone rings and he answers.

 

This is the Office Of National Statistics doing a survey.  Would you mind answering a few questions?

 

Will I need my lawyer?

 

No.  We just want to know what aspects of your lifestyle have changed for the better since the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak?

 

Well, my batting against 11-year-old leg spinners hasn't been such a problem.

 

How's that?

 

They've not been allowed to bowl. 

 

But have your relationships changed for the better?

 

Defintely.  Mrs FB has been sweetness and light.

 

I suppose that's because your spending more quality time with her?

 

Not at all.  It's because she hasn't been tripping over my cricket kit in the hall every second moment.  

 

Lots of people have said they've managed to increase the amount of exercise they do.  Have you being doing burpees?

 

No, flatulence isn't a problem.

 

You don't suffer from wind?

Oh I suffer all right.  You try a full spell up the hill against the wind.

OK.  What about travel?  Has that been better?

Definitely.  

How's that?

I haven't had to drive a car full of juniors and their kit talking non-stop pokemon.

Maybe you've been able to try some new activity?

Yes, I've been practicing the doosra.

That's wonderful.  And are you getting a tune out of it?

No, but the cat can't read it at all.

So will you be making any big lifestyle changes at the end of the lockdown?

Absolutely.  I have something in mind.

And what is that?

I'm going to change my guard to middle and leg.

Gary Gilmour's Eyes

Idly leafing through the record books, Fantasy Bob discovers that today is the birthday of Gary Gilmour, who played 15 Tests for Australia in the mid 1970s.  For those grasping to remember - he was a left-arm seam bowling all rounder.  FB remembers him particularly from his performance during the 1975 World Cup.  In the semi-final against England at Headingley he took 6-14 - 6 of the top seven in the order. He was the first bowler to take 6 wickets in an ODI.  This is no longer an exceptional feat, it has been matched many times. The best wicket haul is currently 8 - hoovered up by Chaminda Vaas against Zimbabwe in 2001.  Gilmour's innings of 28 chasing a total of 94 was also critical to the Australian cause. 

Gilmour liked Headingley (or it liked him)  - in the Ashes Test that same summer he took 6-85 in the first innings and three more in the second innings.  But he was in and out of the Test team as injury and fitness problems together with strong competition for places told against him.  His Test career was over in 1977.  He died in 2014.

FB memory is stirred because at one time he thought Gilmour was the only cricketer who had inspired a punk rock song - or any song for that matter. The song was released by the Adverts in 1977 and made it to number 18 in the poptastic charts.  For a couple of weeks FB was happy in the thought that cricket and punk rock has established a positive creative bond.  He looked forward to future hits - might the Sex Pistols celebrate the Forward Defensive in a froth of spittle and invective?  Might Stiff Little Fingers reveal that their name originated from over-zealous practice of off spin?  Souxsie and the Banshees might sing the praises of Mike Denness.

Of course it was not to be. FB was totally mistaken. There was never such a link.  He had heard a spelling error.  The song was nothing to do with Gilmour.  Looking Through Gary Gilmore's Eyes  was about double murderer Gary Gilmore, the first person to be executed in the USA for over 10 years following a Supreme Court ruling on death penalty statutes.  Gilmore had requested his eyes be donated to medical science.  The song imagines a patient waking following receiving these eyes in transplant.  He is not happy.  A typical subject for a pop song.

But what if the song had been about Gary Gilmour - for example seeing his 6-14 through his eyes?  Now that might have been worth listening to.

A Dirty Protest

Pictures to make all cricketers weep.  Posted on social media this morning by Ian Rankin.

The Meadows, Edinburgh's prestigious Home of Cricket. Who does this?  What are they thinking?  What on earth can their own homes be like?

Those few misguided long term readers will know of Fantasy Bob's feelings for this place - feelings shared by the majority of the City's cricketers. 

The Meadows has been the site of some of FB's greatest performances with bat or ball.  They have also more frequently seen his greatest embarrassments.  Many times his inept displays there could justifiably be described as rubbish.  Is this desecration therefore some covert commentary on FB's cricketing abilities?  Surely not. 

It must therefore be a coordinated protest against the incomprehensible prolonged absence of cricket from this and other spaces.  It is a latter day dirty protest which says to the authorities, 'See what happens when you stop cricket. It's all that keeps us civilised.;'  It poses the question 'How can it be safer to congregate in a pub rather than play cricket?' 

FB sympathises with the objectives of this protest. Absolutely.  He just wishes that the protestors would take their rubbish home. 

Something to Look Forward To

It is causing a bit of alarm in Fantasy Bob's household that, the Prime Minister's reticence notwithstanding, the return to active cricketing duties is getting nearer by the day.   As he was delicately pushing his mask aside to spoon muesli into his mouth this morning, FB mentioned to Mrs FB his concern that the extended period of inaction might have diminished his skill levels unduly.

Mrs FB put on her sympathetic face.  It lasted but a nano-second. 

'What skill levels?' she forensically inquired.

FB was sure there was an answer to this question.  But he couldn't quite call it to mind.  He played for time, adopting a currently popular Parliamentary tactic.

'What do you mean, what skill levels?'  

Mrs FB adroitly avoided the bait. Instead she said, 'Just how many wickets did you tell me you took last season?'

FB's ability to answer was inhibited by the spoonful of muesli in his mouth.  Not to mention the mask.

Mrs FB therefore continued. 'And how many runs did you tell me you scored last season?'  She paused and then, almost sotto voce, delivered her coup de grace,  'If any.'

FB's muesli turned to ashes.  That parting shot was particularly hurtful.  Incapable of being denied, but hurtful none the less. 

'So, how can your skill levels have diminished?'

FB was reluctant to concede the point.  'But...'

'But me no buts,' she said in that but-me-no-buts tone of voice to which FB had become accustomed.  'It's the same every year.  You moan on about how last season was your worst, your last, that you're past it, that the old magic's gone.  Your knee's crocked, your back's gone, your shoulder's jiggered.  Every year.'

'Well it's true,'  FB managed to say.

'Maybe.  But it's not about you.  Somewhere in that club there is an 11 year old who has practised his leg spin all lockdown.  He's waiting for you.  Don't let him down.'

On Vectors

George.

Sandy.

Did you hear the PM today?

No.  What was he saying?

He says that cricket can't start because the ball is a vector.

Eh?

Nobody knows what he means.

Well, doesn't he mean that the ball is a vector.  I've often thought that myself.

You've never.

Aye.  I have.  Remember we used to have that tall chap with the bandy legs open our bowling?

Aye?

We used to think his balls were vectors.

Hector?

That's right. Hector's vectors.  He used to bowl yorkers at his pal in the nets.

Victor.

That's hm.  Used to demolish Victor's stumps.

Aye.

Hector's vectors wrecked our Victor.

What was Hector's job again?

Inspector.

Police?

No KwikFit.  He did the bumpers.  He was a deflector inspector.

But he did well, he rose to director.

Didn't they make him a selector?

Tried to, but there was an objector.

Anyway, that's what the PM says.  

So you can go to the pub...

...or the cinema...

...or the museum...

...but you can't play cricket...

It's mad.

Maybe but because of the vectors.

We need to stop these vectors?

How could we do that?

We need something to turn them away.

A reflector?

A vector reflector.

Or get them in one place.

A vector collector.

No, I don't think that works.  The PM says the ball carries the germs.  It's already a vector collector.

So..... we need to clean the germs off the ball.

Aye.

Well it's obvious what we need.

What?

A vector disinfector.

On IKEA, testing and bruises

 

Sandy 

George

You're looking a bit tired today.

Tired's not the half of it.  Jean had me up at 5 this morning.

Why's that?

She had to get to the front of the queue at IKEA.

Of course - they opened again today.  What was it you needed?

We didn't need anything.  Jean wanted to be there for the occasion.

Histgory being made.

That's it.  She thought she'd get a couple of tea lights.

That's nice.

Came out with a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a dining room suite and a shower curtain.

Is it all self-assembly?

Not the shower curtain.

What about the tea lights?

She forgot them.  We've got to go back tomorrow for them.

That'll keep you busy.  I remember when you tried to put that furniture up at the cricket club.  Took you 2 years.   You kept saying the pieces were the wrong size.

Well they were.

So you'd cut off a bit.

Aye.

And the next piece wouldn't fit.

No, it wouldn't.

So you'd saw that down too.

Aye. And the next bit...

... had to be cut down too.  I don't see the point your making here.  It's a lovely stool.

Aye, but we started out looking for a bench.  

Well, at least we had a good heap of sawdust for the bowlers' footholds.

Speaking of sawdust, Trump could have used some this week?

Trumpy, how?

Did you not see that video of him going down a ramp?  Looked like he was going to go arse over tip at any time.

No.

Well, everybody says it's cause he's past it. But he says it's because the ramp was too slippy.

Sawdust could have helped.

Exactly.  Maybe you should get in touch.  Say you'll put up a bench for him.  He'd have plenty sawdust then.

He's some boy that Trumpy. 

He is you know he says now that the only reason that America has all these virus cases is because they test so many folk.  Says if they weren't testing they wouldn't have so many cases.

That's just like my bowling.

Eh?

The only reason I have so many runs against me is the scoring.  If we weren't scoring, my bowling average would be considerably better.

Well maybe you can raise that with him when you're making his bench for him.

So are you all set for next week?

Aye, the pubs'll be opening.

Not the pubs.  Cricket practice should be starting.

I'm not too sure about that.  What with my knee.

What do you mean?  You've played with that knee for years.

And my shoulder.

Hasn't stopped you bowling.

Then there's my ankle.

You got that fixed.

This is my other ankle..... and my other shoulder.

What about your other knee?

Aye, it's all bruised too.  I was at the doctor with it.  He looks at the bruises and says, 'Do you play football?'  I says, 'No'.  'Hockey?' he says.'No,' I says.  'Well.' he says, 'with bruises like that you must have been playing something.'  'Aye,' I says, 'only bridge with Jean'.

On beer, hat tricks and Dominic Cork

As Fantasy Bob passed a group of physically distanced folk enjoying a drink in the sunshine outside one of Edinburgh's more salubrious hostelries, a couple of voices sounded familiar.

George
Sandy
Well this beer doesn't taste too bad out of a milk carton.
I suppose not.
Still it's a little bit.....what's the wordI'm looking for?
Milky?
That's it - it's a bit milky.
You were meant to empty the milk out before you put the beer in.
Really?  Nobody told me that.
Well what did you think you were getting?  Milk Stout?
There was more cricket on the BBC last night.
Aye.  It was England against the West Indies in 1995.
Yes I remember that match.  The lad got a hat trick.
That's right.  Dominic Cummings.
No, not Dominic Cummings.
Well it was Dominic something.
You're right.
Wasn't Raab was it?
No.  It was Cork.  Dominic Cork.
Of course I remember now.  Old Corky.
That's him.
Got a hat trick.
Do you know he also trod on his wicket when he was batting.  Bails come off and everything.
Wasn't he out?
No.  He stayed in.
Well, that sounds more like Dominic Cummings.  Are you sure it wasn't him?
No, it was Corky all right.  That was his second Test match.  He took 7-43 in his first.  Best debut for England ever.
And then a hattrick.
And a 50.
That's why they called him the new Botham for a while.
They did.
Kiss of death that is. 
They called me that for a while too.
What the kiss of death?
No, the new Botham.
You? The kiss of death is more like it.  I remember when you used to umpire.  Your finger went up faster than the skipper's Porsche.  We used to call you Trigger.
If it's out you've got to give it.
Yes, but you're meant to wait till the ball's been bowled.
Well, I might as well have been the new Botham - almost everybody was then.  DeFreitas, Lewis, White, Gough.
Yes and Corky.  But he wasn't.
No.  He was just the old Corky.
Still.  Imagine a hat trick in a Test Match.
Did you ever get a hat trick?
Oh yes.  Loads of times.
How many?
Loads.
How many?
Well.... none, if you want to be pedantic about it.  But that's not the point.
Isn't it?
Not really.  I had the wickets, it was just the balls in between that messed it up.
George, man, it wasn't just the balls in between the wickets, it was the games in between them that messed it up.
But Corky was a lad.  He used to put that white paint across his nose didn't he?
That's right. 
I did that once.  I couln't get it off after the match.
You weren't meant to use Dulux.
I know that now.
You for another beer?
I'd better not.  There doesn't seem to be a toilet anywhere about.
No, they're still off limits.
I'll have to tie a knot in it as it is.
It's a pity then you don't have a cork to put in it.

Linocut

This is rather pleasant.  Cricket by Edith Lawrence.  It is a linocut made in 1925.

Edith Lawrence was one of a number of British artists who made extensive use of the linocut technique of print making in the first part of the 20th Century.  Her partner was Claude Flight who wrote extensively on its merits, advocating that the relative cheapness of the material could democratise art.  There is a lot of similarity of style between his work and Edith Lawrence's, and the influence of Cubism and Vorticism in both is evident. 

Influence of the knowledge of cricket is not so evident.  FB has not managed to find any cricketing images by Flight and this appears to be Lawrence's only offering on the game.  What is the story behind it?  Did she pass a blue pitch one day and rush off home to capture the impression it made on her?  Who knows?  What is charming about the picture is the energy it depicts - and how all the characters are focussed on what is happening at the batter's end.  Is an appeal being made?

Linoleum is not so omni-present as a floor covering as it once was, so linocut may be less popular as an artistic technique.  But it was still going strong when FB was at school.  He distinctly remembers how he would gouge out an image of some sort on a square of lino, and then smear it with ink or paint to produce - well in FB's case nothing ever beyond an almighty mess.  Perhaps if the art master had made reference to Edith Lawrence's work, FB might have achieved something.

But it is not the poverty of his artistic endeavour that FB recalls from those distant encounters with linocut.  No, there is one thing about linocut that will stir the pulse of every cricketer.  Maybe this is what inspired Edith Lawrence. 

It is the smell.  Just a sniff transports all cricketers.  Just a sniff makes them weak at the knees. It is beyond Chanel, beyond cocaine, beyond anything.  The incomparable smell of linseed oil.

It comes to FB now - maybe he will have another go at linocut.

Some home decoration and a paint job

FB overhears another conversation:

 

George

Sandy

Well it looks like we'll soon be out of lockdown.

Aye.  When I come to visit you in your garden I can use your toilet.

Well, you'll enjoy that.

How's that?

I've redocorated it during lockdown. It's got a cricketing theme.

That sounds good.

Yes, I've used the score cards of my best innings for the club as a wall paper.

That's interesting.

That's what I thought.  Jean wasn't convinced though.

Why not?

Well, she pointed out I'd only scored over 20 twice and that wasn't going to cover a lot of wall.

But you've only a small bathroom.

That's exactly what I said.  Even so there's a few bare patches.

Oh dear.

So maybe you'd like your best innings to go up too.

Well that's very flattering.  But it won't work.

Why not?

I've already used them in my bathroom.

Did you hear there's a bit of controversy down at the cricket club?

No.  What it's about?

Well you know the new skipper?

Aye.

Apparently he's decided that his car has to be repainted the club colours.

Why?

He says that the club's brand needs to be promoted when he's at away fixtures.

Oh really.

He says the present colour is a bit dull.

Well the club colurs will certainly jazz it up a bit. 

Doesn't the skipper use his company car though?

Aye, he does.

And remind me what his job is again.

He's an undertaker.

Three Team Cricket

Sandy.

George.

You look a bit confused.

Well, I've just beeen reading about this new South African thing.  They've got 3 Teams playing each other at the same time.

3 teams? How does that work?

Well, one team bats and one team bowls.

But what about the other team?

Well it bats when the team that's batting bowls.  And when they've bowled half their overs they bat until the team that was wasn't batting bowls.  And the team that wasn't bowling bats and when they've all bowled half their overs they do it again except the team wasn't batting bowls unless the team that was batting has scored scored most runs.  And the team that wasn't batting bowls half its overs.

I thought they'd already bowled half their overs.

That was the other half. 

Of course.  So let me get this right.  The team that's batting isn't bowling and the team that isn't bowling will bowl half its overs at the team that isn't batting.

No, it can't bowl half its overs if it isn't bowling.  It must be the other half of its overs that it's bowling.

Unless it's the team that's batting.

But what about the team that isn't batting?

It must be bowling.

But you just said it was the team that wasn't bowling.

That was the other half of the overs.

Which half?

The half that they haven't bowled.

OK that sounds simple.

That's what I thought.

Tim Tams For All

Many years ago when this blog was a serious cricket publication, Fantasy Bob selected his All Time Greatest Biscuit XI.  Photographed here at Lords.

FB therefore relished the exciting announcement by the Prime Minister today that they will shortly play a Test series against the Australian Biscuit XI, seen here before their long and arduous trip. FB is sure all cricket lovers will welcome them to our shores.  Biscuit lovers might do so too.

Hitchcock

Fantasy Bob is reminded that it is 60 years since Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho first hit the screens.  Even after all these years and many imitators, it remains the masterpiece of its genre.  The score by Bernard Hermann is near the top of anyone's list of film music, adding atmosphere and tension.

There is however nothing of particular interest to the cricketer, not surprisingly since it is set in Southern California.  The rest of Hitchcock's catalogue is similarly devoid of cricketing interest, except for one jewel in the crown.

The Lady Vanishes was released in 1938. It features the unforgettable characters Charters and Caldicott, played by Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne who fuss and worry about the Test Match score as they journey through middle Europe. The characters are set up when the party is stranded in a hotel.  A call comes through from London.  Although it is not for him, Charters grabs the phone and asks what the Test score is.  Evidently the voice at the other end professes ignorance and Charters expostulates, 'How can you be in England and not know the Test score!' and puts the phone down.  Just what FB might do.

As the train trundles on, the pair's attempt to re-enact the dismissal of Hammond with the aid of sugar lumps.  they are indignant when the ladies at the next table interrupt them and ask for the sugar.  Later they are asked about this exchange, for the vanished lady was one of the ladies at the next table.  While they could remember relinquishing the sugar, neither could remember seeing the lady in question, 'We were deep in conversation.  We were discussing cricket.'  Met with the reply , 'Well I don't see how a thing like cricket can make you forget seeing people,' their indignation rises even more. 'If that's your attitude, there's nothing more to be said.  "Thing like cricket!"

As the mystery deepens around them, their primary concern is that any delay in the journey and their arrival in London could lead them to miss their opportunity to catch some of the action.  Of course fate has the last laugh.  They arrive in London eventually and hasten to find a train to Manchester (where the Test is being played) only to see the newspaper billboard 'Test Match Abandoned Floods.'

All very amusing and splendid light relief to the main action. The characters had an afterlife - Radford and Wayne played them again in 1940 in Night Train to Munich and in radio serials in 1941 and 42.  In 1985 the BBC made a mystery series Charters and Caldicott portraying them sleuthing in retirement.  FB confesses he missed that one but he understands it to be filled with cricketing references. 

FB still enjoys The Lady Vanishes and Hitchcock's version remains superior to all remakes.  But then he is the master. 

Nowadays, Charters and Caldicott's smart phones would keep them up to date ball by ball  So they and their obsessions seem of their time - except that FB can't help feeling that somehow they are actually in charge of things in modern Britain. Or maybe that's Psycho?

On Greyfriars Bobby, luck and Neil McKenzie

Sandy.

George.

Another day another queue.

Aye.  What's this one for?

No idea.

I was hoping it might be Primark.

They're not open yet in Scotland.

Oh Jean'll be disappointed.  She said I've to get myself some new pants.

Well, it's only essential shops are open. 

The state of my pants, this is essential.

So how was your weekend?

Terrible - I'm really missing the cricket.

But it was pouring down on Saturday - it would have been off.

So if it had been on, it would have been off.

The lad across the road from us had some weekend though.  He's some funny ideas.  He says he spent all Saturday guarding a statue.

Really, what statue?

Greyfriars Bobby.  He's even got his old BB uniform out.

No.

I told him I didn't think Greyfriars Bobby was under threat.  But he said he wasn't taking any chances.   He said someone had put a mask on him. 

Did they?

He was outraged.  Says that if they could do that then there's no telling what they might do next.

I suppose the mask would mean people couldn't rub its nose.

I rub its nose every time I pass it.  Just for luck.

Aye, you were always superstitious at the cricket.  You'd to do exactly the same thing before every match.  Wear the same clothes.  Sit in the same place.  Every match.

It brought me luck.

Same rituals.  Week in week out.

It helped my performance.

You had a batting average of 4.4.

Just think how much worse it would have been without all that good luck.

I suppose you were a mild case compared to some.  Did you ever hear about Neil McKenzie?

Who?

Neil McKenzie - he was a Saffy.  He also played for Hampshire for a few years.

Oh that Neil McKenzie.

Well this lad was super-superstitious.  He had to ensure that all the toilet seats in the changing room were down before he went out to bat.

Well that wouldn't have worked with us.

How not?

None of the changing room toilets had any seats left.   If there were any toilets to start with.

And this lad McKenzie also had to tape his bat to the ceiling.

That's mad.

He got a Test hundred at Lords.

Well maybe there was something in it then.

That's the thing you never know.   So, you think I might be able to get some new pants soon?

You should be. 

I'm not sure my pants'll last much longer. 

I'm sure they'll hang on with a bit of luck.

Aye.  I'd better start taping them to the ceiling.

An Encounter with Daffy

Fantasy Bob enjoyed the highlights of the England v West Indies at Headingley in 1991, which were shown last night.  He is sure he watched much of it as it happened but even as it unrolled in front of him he couldn't really recall it.  This is no surprise; he can barely recall what happened to him yesterday.

But it reminded FB that in those years he was the proud owner of a tiny portable pocket TV with an LED screen about 4 inches across on which he was able surreptitiously to watch the cricket in the office.  Sadly, shortly after acquiring it, he moved into a metal-framed building subjected the reception to dreadful interference.   Even more sadly, he dropped it and jiggered the screen reducing its useful surface to about 2 inches across.

So how much of Graeme Gooch's remarkable 154* in the second innings might FB have seen on his tiny screen?  Did he see the debuts of Ramprakash and Hick - two outstanding batsmen who were expected to pile up the runs for England but who tragically failed to live up their evident potential.  At least these names mean something to him now.  But if you had asked him prior to the programme to say who Steve Watkin was he would have looked at you even more blankly than is his normal look.  He would have no idea.  Watkin also debuted in that Test - as a late call in for an injured Chris Lewis.  He didn't do too badly - indeed he contributed significantly to England's victory with 3-38  in West Indies' second innings, including the wicket of the mighty Richards for 3. The MasterBlaster attempted his trademark drive through midwicket from outside off stump.  Watkin must have been a tad slower than the great man expected, the ball ballooned to mid off from the leading edge.  In that spell Watkin also got Hooper and Logie, the three wickets falling for only 11 runs as West Indies dug a hole for themselves.  England won by 115 runs.  Watkin only played 2 more Tests.  But still snaffling Richards.....

The main burden of the England bolwing was done by Philip DeFreitas - known to all as Daffy.

Now this is the one Test bowler who FB has actually faced - believe it or not.  FB has told before of how several years ago he was invited to play at the Oval in a charity 6 a side tournament.  Each team had a pro allocated to it - as he has told previously FB was joined by Ramprakash.  The team up against FB had Daffy.  For some misguided reason FB's skipper put him at the top of the order.  FB marked his guard and looked up.  He could see Daffy in the middle distance - he was taking the first over.  Gulp.

Whether by accident or design,  Daffy served up a nice half volley just outside off and even a batsman of FB's limitd ability was able to cream it through the covers.

'Shot, mate,' said Daffy as FB went through the motions of taking a run, for the ball had crossed the boundary.

'Bowled, Daffy,' said FB tapping the Oval pitch like a proper cricketer.

Well, it's almost like snaffling Richards.

The Road Map for the Return of Recreational Cricket

It is time to catch up with the Hundred Acre Wood CC as they navigate the ECB's roadmap for the return of recreational cricket.

As soon as the ECB's guidance came out, Christopher Robin had cut the grass in the nets so it would be ready for the first practice session.  

'Now, Pooh', he said, 'you must stick strictly to the rules.  It says that groups of six are allowed to train together.  No more than six.'

'Six,' said Pooh, 'um, that's more than five but not as many as seven.'

'Clever bear,'  said Christopher Robin.  'Remember, no more than six.  Have a nice practice.'

Pooh was not left on his own for long as Tigger bounced into the ground.  Tigger was the team's fast bowler and always full of energy.  He had found the lockdown very difficult  and not even Joe Wicks had tired him out.

'CanIbatcanIbowlcanIfield.' he said.

Pooh was breathless just listening.  'You can't do them all at once.'

'Try to stop me!' Tigger said, strapping on a pad and hurling a ball at the katchit at the same time.  The ball was plucked out of the air by Roo who had appeared at that moment.

'How's that.  How's that.  How's that', he said excitedly. 'I caught it, I did, all by myself.'

Kanga was not far behind lugging the enormous cricket bag which, in the way of all junior members, little Roo's gear was carried.

'Yes, dear well done', she said.  'Hello, Pooh.  What are you doing?'

'I'm counting,' replied Pooh with a worried look on his face. 'Um ..one and one is....er three and take away....'

Just as Pooh reached the end of his count, a slow sad voice was heard.

'I suppose nets are off tonight.  They always are these days.'

'No, Eeyore, we can practice now as long as we are socially distant.'  Piglet had also arrived and he held a copy of the rules in his hand. 

'I'm always socially distant, no one ever comes to see me.'

'Hello Pooh,' said Piglet, 'I'll bat. I hope Tigger's not going to bowl his bouncers.'  Piglet was the team's number three batsman, but as a little animal he didn't really like fast bowling.

'Bouncers!' said Tigger at the top of his run up, 'I love bouncers. Let's have some chin music.'  He ran in and Piglet hurled himself to the ground as the ball screamed past his head.

Pooh returned to his count.  'Piglet is one,  Tigger is two.  Roo and Kanga make four.  Then there's me and.....'

'I knew you'd forget me.  You always do.'  

'...and Eeyore!  And that makes.........er.......Yes, six.  That's six.  Now what was it that Christopher Robin said.....'

Pooh knew that what Christopher Robin had said was very important.  It was just that all the other important things he had heard seemed to be in the way of remembering that important thing.  He put on his best thinking face and stroked his chin, just like he'd seen Christopher Robin do when he had a hard thought to think.

As Pooh thought harder and harder, Rabbit arrived.  Rabbit was the team's skipper and a rather bossy animal, very fond of waving his arms about in a skipperly way.   Being skipper seemed to make him cross all the time. 'Now what's everyone doing?' he asked crossly.

'Seven!' said Pooh.  'Seven is one more than six.'

'What are you talking about, Pooh?'  Rabbit found that Pooh usually made him even crosser than he was before.

'You're seven.'

'No, you bear of extremely little brain, I always open,'  Rabbit replied, waving his arms to emphasise his point.

'Christopher Robin said we were only allowed six, and you're seven.  So you have to go.'

'He's right,' said Piglet, nervously, as he kept one eye on Tigger who was approaching the far end of his run up. 'It's the rules.'

'Yes... only six and that includes me for once,' said Eeyore

'I scored a six once,' said Roo.  'I did, didn't I?'

'Of course you did, dear,' said Kanga.  'Now Rabbit, I am afraid Pooh and Piglet are right.  It's the COVID rules, we can only be six.  You'll have to go.'

Rabbit's arms stopped waving.  He turned crossly on his heel.  'Of all the stupid ...'

The others looked after him as he left.

'You know,' said Eeyore voicing the inner thoughts of the other five, 'there may be something to be said for these rules after all.'

On Clapping, Marimbas and Ian Bell

George. 

Sandy.

Did you do the clapping? 

Aye.  Jean was really keen on it. But we had to give it up.  Couldn't afford it anymore.

Eh?

Jean bashed the bottoms out of 2 frying pans and 3 saucepans.  We've only a fish kettle left.  And I don't like fish.

I thought you were looking thinner.  

I was fine with the clapping until the boy next door started with the bagpipes.  What a racket.  He only knows the one tune.

And what's that?

Don't Stand So Close to Me.  If only.....  But it got the lad on the other side going with his sousaphone. He's giving it everything on Stayin' Alive..  Then the lassie across the road joins in with her marimbas going for it with the Ride of the Valkyiries  Jean has to keep up - she got carried away with Soul Limbo - that's what did for her frying pan.

Aye well they've stopped it all now.

Aye, everybody's clapped out.

We used to do a lot of clapping in the cricket.

We were always clapping.  'Batsman in,' and everyone clapped.

Wicket....

...everyone clapped.

Good ball, good shot... 

... everyone clapped.

Batsman's fifty...

... everyone clapped.

We had a boy in our side.  Couldn't bat, couldn't bowl, couldn't catch.  But he was brilliant at the clapping.  Got him selected every week.

I remember him - what was he called again?

Derek Clapton.

Now it's all high fives..

..and fist bumps.

Maybe now folk have got into the way of clapping again it'll come back.

That would be nice.

As long as we don't get the frying pans.

Or the bagpipes.

Or the marimbas 

Aye, tuned percussion would be out of place on a cricket field.

Except for Ian Bell.

Except for Ian Bell - he was a player.  Lovely cover drive.

Superb cover drive.

22 Test centuries.  Only Pietersen and Cook had more.

The Sledgehammer of Eternal Justice they called him.

Really.  Why?

I've no idea.  

He was Jean's favourite batsman.

She'd have clapped him in then.

She's have got her marimbas out for him.  

So you're off somewhere?

Aye.  I've got a round of golf booked.

Golf - I thought you'd given it up.

I had.  But since there's no cricket, I thought I'd give it another go.

And how's it going?

Dreadful.  Mind you not as bad as the lad I was playing with on Monday  He was that depressed after the round, he said he was going to drown himself.

Did he?

No, epic fail.  He couldn't keep his head down long enough.

Statues

Fantasy Bob doesn't wish to court controversy but statues seem to be in the news for one reason or another.  Having grown up in the sub-tropical micro climate of Aberdeen, there is one statue that is impressed on his memory more than any other.

It is a monumental representation of William Wallace and it stands opposite His Majesty's Theatre.  Why it is there is a mystery.  Wallace had no connection with Aberdeen, even less with His Majesty's Theatre.  It was erected in 1888, over 500 years after Wallace's gory execution.  It was funded by a legacy left for that purpose by an Edinburgh man, John Steill, a resident of the Grange, where FB's beloved Carlton Cricket Club have their ground. Steill was a staunch admirer of Wallace and an opponent of the Union between Scotland and England which he fervently wished to dissolve.

History does not reveal whether John Steill hatched his plan for his mighty statue as he watched the Carlton of his day.  But it would seem likely.  Cricket obviously impressed him.  What else could have lead him to commission a pose in which his hero is signalling a no-ball?

On an anniversary

Sandy.

George.

You off somewhere?

Yes, I've got to get an anniversary present.

Well, Happy Anniversary.  How many years is that now?

Two.  

Two?  You've been married more than two years.  

Married, what's that to do with anything?  This is important, 2 years ago, 10 June 2018.

Eh?

Scotland beat England.  Weren't you there?

No, I had to go to our Alison's wedding.

Bad luck.

Aye, I tried to get out of it, but they insisted the Father of the Bride went.

Oh, aye, and who was that?

Me - that was me.  Alison's my eldest.  

Oh - I thought she got married.

She did, that's what I'm saying.  I had to go to her wedding rather than the Grange.  Mind you, I was listening to the ball-by-ball through my ear-piece.  That didn't go down too well.

Oh?

Well, we got Joe Root run out. I couldn't stop myself.  I yelled out, "Yes, ya beauty' 

Anyone would.

It was right in the middle of the vows. 

Ah.

Then just as the Minister said, 'You may now kiss the bride.'

Don't tell me

Ally Evans got Morgan.

Ya beauty!  

Aye, well, I was up standing on the pew, 'Evvo, Evvo....'

Oh dear.  How did Sandra take it?

If I'm honest, I don't think she was best pleased.  As I jumped up I knocked her new hat off.

Oh no.

And the floral decoration on it flew off.

No.

And landed in the cleavage of the groom's mother.  

No.

So she jumps up, startled and lets out a banshee scream.  Nearly shattered the stained glass.  That gets all the bairns going, so they all start wailing.  Then Uncle Jack's guide dog joined in.  And that caused the PA system to feedback.

That sounds terrible.

It was terrible - I couldn't hear the next over.

On Goji Berries, Suduko and Voltarol

Fantasy Bob overhears another conversation in yet another queue.

Jean!

Sandra!  How nice to see you!  I thought you'd stopped coming to Waitrose.

I have but Aldi's sold out of the goji berries today.

Tragic.

I need them for my kidneys.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Why?  I just fry them up with onions and garlic and goji berries. Lovely.

          Did Sandy say he saw George the other day.

No.

Well, he was behind him in the queue outside the chemist.

The chemist - what was he doing there?

Queueing.

No, I mean what was he queueing for?

George didn't say.  He's not been ill has he?

Not really.  But he's really grumpy because there's no cricket.

Same as George.  Grumpbucket maximus.

All he does is watch the DVD of the 2005 Ashes. Over and over and over.

Same as George.  If I hear about Shane Warne's googlies again......

...I'll scream.  I tell him he's got to develop some other interests.  I said to him what about trying the sudoko.

Good idea.

But he says that he doesn't like the martial arts.

George tried the karate once.  

And?

Worst after-shave ever.  

But they said it would turn any woman's head.

Well it turned my stomach.

So you don't know why Sandy was at the chemist?

No.

George said he bought a jumbo size Voltarol, an extra large Deep Heat, and a mega sized Algipan.

Excellent.

Excellent?  Doesn't it mean he's in pain?

No, it means he thinks his cricket could be starting soon.

Barbara Newcomb - Cricket Etchings

Through accident Fantasy Bob came across these.  They are rather nice.

Etchings by Barbara Newcomb, made in the 1980s.  Though she is American by birth, she captures something about cricket that is ssential and timeless.

On Exercise, Injury and Gooch

Fantasy Bob overhears another conversation between those two old cricket lovers.

Sandy!

George.

I see you're out for your constitutional.

Aye.  As approved by Nicola Sturgeon.

Jean not with you? 

No, she's got her own lock-down exercise regime.

Really, what does she do?

Well - at 9 o'clock she's got the Joe Wicks, at 10 it's the Pilates, at 11 the Yoga,  at 12 the Tai Chi... 

...Uh-hu...

...then there's the Fat Burner, the Bum Shaper and the Ab Blaster...

...Oh...

...and afterwards Zumba, Belly-dance and HipHop.

That's a punishing schedule.

Aye, but she says she's putting the weight on.

Surely not?

I've tried to help her.

How?

I told her she should try the exercises, not just watch the videos.  

That Joe Wicks has done well though.  All my grandchildren do the Joe Wicks.

I haven't seen my grandchildren in ages.

You don't have any grandchildren.

That must be why.

I couldn't do the Joe Wicks.  

Me neither.  Not with my back.

What's wrong with your back?

Cricket did for it.  Don't you remember?  I had three slips.

You never bowled to three slips in your life.

No, I was batting.  I tried to cart to long hop.  It was that slow I missed it.  Back foot slipped, trod on my stumps.  Hands slipped, bat flew off, knocked the umpire unconscious.

And the third slip?

Disc.  I was bent over for three weeks.  Jean thought it was hilarious.

So no Joe Wicks.

No Joe Wicks.

It was Graeme Gooch.

Graeme Gooch?

Graeme Gooch - he was a fitness fanatic.

Was he?

Aye, when he became captain he had all the players doing exercises like there was no tomorrow.  

They must have liked that.

Not the senior players.  Gower got an aeroplane and buzzed the ground.

And there was no tomorrow for him then.  

Remember when Gooch got 333?

Unforgettable.   Remind me.

Lords 1990 against India.  Then he got 123 in the second innings.

456 in one match.

Still a record.  All down to hard work.  It was a new ethic.

The Essex ethic.  That's hard to say.

Sandy.

What?

Put your teeth back in. 

On Masks, Hurt and Foxy Fowler

Fantasy Bob found himself behind Sandy and George again as they queued outside Boots.  Though these cricket lovers are men of few words, he couldn't help overhearing.

George?  Is that you?

Mmmmmm

What?

Mmmmmm

I can't hear a word you're saying behind that mask.  Take it off.

Mmmmmm  I daren't.  Jean made it specially.

Did she?  Well it's a very fetching colour.  That bright pink really goes with your eyes.  I'm glad to run into you.  Did you see the cricket on the BBC last night?

Cricket on the BBC?  You must be joking.

They're replaying old matches.  They were at Lords with the West Indies in 1984.

A great game.

A great game.

(Pause) 

A great game.  What happened?

Well, Fowler got it right in the chuckies from Garner.  

(They both wince and slightly bend their knees).

That happened to me once.  Right in the chuckies.  From Garner.

Garner!?  You never faced Joel Garner.

Joel?  Maybe not but Noel Garner was an 11 year old leggie at the club back in the day.  Little beggar bowled me his wrong 'un. 

And got you....

...right in the chuckies.  I was singing soprano for a week.  Jean thought it was hilarious.

Well, Fowler went on to get a hundred.

He was a great lad.

Aye.  Foxy they called him.  

Foxy Fowler.  That's him.  A great lad.  Should have played lots more Tests. 

He's had his problems.

Anyone would if they'd been hit in the chuckies by Garner.

No, he gets very depressed.  He has to sleep in a tent in the garden.

That's what Jean tells me to do when she says my snoring's ruining her beauty sleep.  

But you don't have a garden.

You try telling her that.

Anyway Foxy does lots of great work for mental health in cricket.  A great lad.   You should read his book.  Absolutely Foxed.

I'm sorry to hear that, is that why you're at the chemist?

No, that's what Foxy's book's called.  Anyway, what about your mask?  You said Jean made it.  What with?

She's a woman for the recycling.  She thought it's be a good use of some of her old underwear.

I thought that was it.

How?

She hasn't removed the Ann Summers label.