Fantasy Bob is encouraged that these witterings seem to be being read by a small number of readers without any obvious affinity to Carlton CC. Page views have been recorded in number of places including in Hungary and the USA. Although greatly enjoyable books such as Slogging the Slavs and Netherland have assured FB that cricket is known in both countries, he understands that neither Hungary nor the USA is a hotbed of cricketing interest.
This leads FB to wonder whether it is the word fantasy in the title of his witterings that may be misleading internet surfers and attracting expectant but inadvertant hits from either devotees of JRR Tolkein and the like or sex maniacs in search of new forms of stimulation.
Fantasy Bob does not wish to disappoint. He would therefore like to confirm to readers in the former category that he is not, nor ever has been a hobbit. He finds the lack of explanation of why slow wickets were invariably found in Mordor a great defect in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Indeed FB considers that had Gandalf had the wit to make a forceful declaration at the right time in volume 2, a result might have been achieved without inflicting the 3rd volume on the crowd.
On the other hand, sex maniacs should understand that occasionally in Fantasy Bob's many years on God's earth his shambling an unassuming demeanour has been likened to a sex machine. But sadly these occasions are increasingly infrequent.
In the meantime, FB welcomes all readers from cricketless countries. They have his full sympathy. He trusts his witterings can ease the daily pain of their cricket starved existence.
WITTERINGS - CRICKET, LIFE AND ALL THAT OTHER STUFF
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Saturday, 2 October 2010
A calm sea and a prosperous voyage
Fantasy Bob's many readers - all 3 of them - can stop anxiously phoning the coastguard. FB is safely returned from his sea voyage.
At this point, it is only fair to warn those regular readers that this posting will contain little about biscuits and even less about cricket. Nevertheless, FB hopes that they will carry on reading - even if they struggle to understand his acceptance that there is life beyond cricket and biscuits.
A calm sea and a prosperous voyage are poems by Goethe which inspired musical works by both Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Signing up for a sailing trip on former BT Challenge yacht Alba Endeavour in the west of Scotland just after the autumn equinox, FB would have known that a calm sea might be unlikely but, having sailed several times before with legendary sportscotland sailing guru Rod Smith, he was confident that his voyage would be prosperous. He was not disappointed.
There are many reasons for running away to sea, but when Fantasy Bob met the rest of the crew duly assembled at Greenock on a grey Monday morning, he found that is own motivation - the shame of yet another wicketless spell in the final friendly of the season was by far the most serious. Most of his new friends said they were simply there to broaden their sailing experience and to sample what a big boat feels like. But whatever murky pasts they were escaping, this mixed group of strangers soon blended into an enjoyable and entertaining company.
Heading out of Greenock the destination was Douglas, Isle of Man - 120miles or so - perhaps 15 hours sailing if we maintained a steady 8 knots. However, wind was not all that favourable and the need to secure safe passage round the shallows off the north east of the IOM meant that the journey took nearer 26 hours. The low cloud base hid the moon and the sun for most of the night as we close-reached down past Galloway. Poor visibility in the morning meant that the sighting of IOM at breakfast time may well have been a collective illusion since any sight of land promptly disappeared for the next 8 hours. 'Keep a look out for the south cardinal mark,' was the instruction from First Mate Bob Rutherford, but as the minutes stretched into hours, the crew came to the conclusion that someone must have moved it since we arrived at Douglas without any hint of a buoy ever appearing on the horizon. Only regular servings of tea and biscuits kept the crew from mutiny.
At 12 noon or so we had tacked SW onto a long close reach which would eventually take us to Douglas, but there was definitely growing motion in the ocean. Nevertheless, a couple of FB's fellow crew members made the heroic decision to go below and cook up some pasta and pesto for lunch. FB was on the helm at the time, and wondered why he had become such a popular chap as one by one the cooks came to sit beside him. Ah, such vanity! Their real reason was not to secure insight from FB into how to bowl the perfect inswinger but to lodge in the downwind quarter as the motion below got to their stomachs. More seriously though, down below OYT Watch Leader Alistair Mackay had been thrown against the heads doors as the boat pitched and lay in some pain fearing cracked ribs. Gallows humour was required; and the talk turned to the number of body bags that the MCA required vessels to carry. Should this be the same as the number of crew - and if so, who had invented the self-filling bag?
We made it into Douglas in the pouring rain at about 15.30. A taxi came on the quay to take Alastair off to A&E. The crew took some shore leave as dinner was prepared. FB was led astray by sportscotland young blood Dave McCardel to find Danny's harbourside bar, where he declined change in the form of IOM notes but recommends local brew Okell's bitter. Alistair returned from the medics before dinner floating from the impact of some strong painkillers, but, to everyone's relief, reporting no serious damage.
The next morning the sky was lower as we set off for Bangor. As they had on the first morning, the crew looked again to FB to sweat up the mainsail. Now, this is a challenge worthy of an Olympian athlete such as FB, since the mast is 95ft high and the sail is a serious weight of canvas. All FB's time in the gym and biscuits consumed were put to good use at last.
As we motor sailed through the narrow sound between the south of IOM and Calf Island, the wind died as the sun came out. It would be a long motor sail to that evening's berth.
The bad jokes soon ran out. (What do you call a man with a spade on his head? - Doug; what do you call a man without a spade on his head? - Douglas).
Other entertainments had to be devised. Skipper Rod showed off his gymnastic prowess by climbing the shrouds. Slimmer members of the crew competed to squeeze through the coach-house roof hatches. The Gun Fight at the OK Corral was reenacted in a competition of quick draw, in which you had to release the clips on your life line before your opponent. The fire pump was assembled and American visitor Don Hamilton got to reenact his childhood dream of being a fireman as he sprayed the hose high into the setting sun on a picture post card beautiful evening. More biscuits were consumed.
Bangor was reached at about 19.30 and after dinner a visit to the renowned Jenny Watt's Bar brought the end to a fine day.
Wednesday dawned bright clear with the wind barely stirring. What an opportunity to get the spinnaker up! Of course, it took the combined intellect of the whole crew to get the guys, sheets, poles, uphauls, downhauls and halyards all in approximately the right place. It probably took less brainpower to get a man on the moon, but eventually up went the sail, and along we surged maxing at 13 knots. Biscuits were required as a reward for such endeavour. Helming under the spinnaker was one of the highlights of the trip for FB, since his last encounter with a big kite was in his long distant days of dinghy sailing.
As the wind backed the spinnaker had to be dropped. To the great delight of the bosun, his letter boxing worked and she came in through the space between boom and mainsail. It only took 3 hours hard sweat below to repack her!
As we crossed the North Channel, it seemed sensible to take care to avoid the Royal Navy's live firing exercise. Radio contact was established with the senior service to ensure that they would not blast us out of the water as we got up close to Ailsa Craig. Wake up and smell the guano! The birds nesting on the basalt columns called their welcome to us as we slipped by. A unique experience.
We tied up at 18.00 and after making the boat safe repaired to local restaurant Cecchinis for an excellent dinner to round off a perfect sailing day.
It had rained hard overnight and the wind had got up, so next morning could only be described as typical Ardrossan weather. Initial thoughts of a race around Little Cumbrae between the watches were abandoned as the wind gusted to 7 when we left Ardrossan. 3 reefs in the main, no foresail and we were still doing 9 knots! Lord above, this boat can move.
What a fine voyage, what a fine company, what a fine boat. Fantasy Bob sends his best wishes to all his new friends from far and wide. Best wishes to sportscotland and best wishes to the Ocean Youth Trust. Keep up the good work.
And next time Fantasy Bob has a couple of wicketless games or scores a duck, he will definitely be thinking about running away to sea again............................
At this point, it is only fair to warn those regular readers that this posting will contain little about biscuits and even less about cricket. Nevertheless, FB hopes that they will carry on reading - even if they struggle to understand his acceptance that there is life beyond cricket and biscuits.
A calm sea and a prosperous voyage are poems by Goethe which inspired musical works by both Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Signing up for a sailing trip on former BT Challenge yacht Alba Endeavour in the west of Scotland just after the autumn equinox, FB would have known that a calm sea might be unlikely but, having sailed several times before with legendary sportscotland sailing guru Rod Smith, he was confident that his voyage would be prosperous. He was not disappointed.
There are many reasons for running away to sea, but when Fantasy Bob met the rest of the crew duly assembled at Greenock on a grey Monday morning, he found that is own motivation - the shame of yet another wicketless spell in the final friendly of the season was by far the most serious. Most of his new friends said they were simply there to broaden their sailing experience and to sample what a big boat feels like. But whatever murky pasts they were escaping, this mixed group of strangers soon blended into an enjoyable and entertaining company.
Heading out of Greenock the destination was Douglas, Isle of Man - 120miles or so - perhaps 15 hours sailing if we maintained a steady 8 knots. However, wind was not all that favourable and the need to secure safe passage round the shallows off the north east of the IOM meant that the journey took nearer 26 hours. The low cloud base hid the moon and the sun for most of the night as we close-reached down past Galloway. Poor visibility in the morning meant that the sighting of IOM at breakfast time may well have been a collective illusion since any sight of land promptly disappeared for the next 8 hours. 'Keep a look out for the south cardinal mark,' was the instruction from First Mate Bob Rutherford, but as the minutes stretched into hours, the crew came to the conclusion that someone must have moved it since we arrived at Douglas without any hint of a buoy ever appearing on the horizon. Only regular servings of tea and biscuits kept the crew from mutiny.
At 12 noon or so we had tacked SW onto a long close reach which would eventually take us to Douglas, but there was definitely growing motion in the ocean. Nevertheless, a couple of FB's fellow crew members made the heroic decision to go below and cook up some pasta and pesto for lunch. FB was on the helm at the time, and wondered why he had become such a popular chap as one by one the cooks came to sit beside him. Ah, such vanity! Their real reason was not to secure insight from FB into how to bowl the perfect inswinger but to lodge in the downwind quarter as the motion below got to their stomachs. More seriously though, down below OYT Watch Leader Alistair Mackay had been thrown against the heads doors as the boat pitched and lay in some pain fearing cracked ribs. Gallows humour was required; and the talk turned to the number of body bags that the MCA required vessels to carry. Should this be the same as the number of crew - and if so, who had invented the self-filling bag?
We made it into Douglas in the pouring rain at about 15.30. A taxi came on the quay to take Alastair off to A&E. The crew took some shore leave as dinner was prepared. FB was led astray by sportscotland young blood Dave McCardel to find Danny's harbourside bar, where he declined change in the form of IOM notes but recommends local brew Okell's bitter. Alistair returned from the medics before dinner floating from the impact of some strong painkillers, but, to everyone's relief, reporting no serious damage.
The next morning the sky was lower as we set off for Bangor. As they had on the first morning, the crew looked again to FB to sweat up the mainsail. Now, this is a challenge worthy of an Olympian athlete such as FB, since the mast is 95ft high and the sail is a serious weight of canvas. All FB's time in the gym and biscuits consumed were put to good use at last.
 |
| Rod in the shrouds - don't do this at home! |
The bad jokes soon ran out. (What do you call a man with a spade on his head? - Doug; what do you call a man without a spade on his head? - Douglas).
Other entertainments had to be devised. Skipper Rod showed off his gymnastic prowess by climbing the shrouds. Slimmer members of the crew competed to squeeze through the coach-house roof hatches. The Gun Fight at the OK Corral was reenacted in a competition of quick draw, in which you had to release the clips on your life line before your opponent. The fire pump was assembled and American visitor Don Hamilton got to reenact his childhood dream of being a fireman as he sprayed the hose high into the setting sun on a picture post card beautiful evening. More biscuits were consumed.
 |
| A perfect sunset over Northern Ireland |
 |
| FB driving |
Wednesday dawned bright clear with the wind barely stirring. What an opportunity to get the spinnaker up! Of course, it took the combined intellect of the whole crew to get the guys, sheets, poles, uphauls, downhauls and halyards all in approximately the right place. It probably took less brainpower to get a man on the moon, but eventually up went the sail, and along we surged maxing at 13 knots. Biscuits were required as a reward for such endeavour. Helming under the spinnaker was one of the highlights of the trip for FB, since his last encounter with a big kite was in his long distant days of dinghy sailing.
As the wind backed the spinnaker had to be dropped. To the great delight of the bosun, his letter boxing worked and she came in through the space between boom and mainsail. It only took 3 hours hard sweat below to repack her!
As we crossed the North Channel, it seemed sensible to take care to avoid the Royal Navy's live firing exercise. Radio contact was established with the senior service to ensure that they would not blast us out of the water as we got up close to Ailsa Craig. Wake up and smell the guano! The birds nesting on the basalt columns called their welcome to us as we slipped by. A unique experience.
 |
| The water sail beginning to draw |
Most of the crew had never heard of a water sail, let alone seen one. Some thought Rod was having us on at mentioning it, but others took him at his word and rigged one up with the storm staysail hanging below the boom. It added about .25 of a knot to the the boat speed and, as we approached Ardrossan, may have been interpreted by all adjacent vessels as a sign of distress .
We tied up at 18.00 and after making the boat safe repaired to local restaurant Cecchinis for an excellent dinner to round off a perfect sailing day.
 |
| Where's my dinner? |
But, little by little, the wind eased as we got further up the Firth and 2 reefs were shaken out as we passed Cumbrae. Coming up the Clyde we faced an escort from HMS Ark Royal and other NATO warships, presumably scrambled in the night to ensure there was no more of that water sail nonsense. With no further opportunities for mischief, we tied up at Greenock at 14.00 totalling 390 miles on the log.
What a fine voyage, what a fine company, what a fine boat. Fantasy Bob sends his best wishes to all his new friends from far and wide. Best wishes to sportscotland and best wishes to the Ocean Youth Trust. Keep up the good work.
And next time Fantasy Bob has a couple of wicketless games or scores a duck, he will definitely be thinking about running away to sea again............................
Friday, 1 October 2010
The power of milk
This photograph was taken in June 2006 at Carlton's Edinburgh HQ. A loving son, an adoring father what could be more heartwarming?
A fast bowling monster and a little old man.
4 years later, a couple of lakes of milk, a few hundred tons of prime fillet steak, a lot of rugby training and what do you get?
A fast bowling monster and a little old man.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
A cricket hall of fame..........
As the long dark nights of the winter beckon you can seek solace in Fantasy Bob's occasional series on sporting heroes. Just to start us off here is his cricketing Hall of Fame - not in batting order.
- Ian Botham - the ultimate all rounder, FB's loyalty was strained by a series of shocking Beefy hair cuts in the late 70s, but on his day an inspirational figure with bat, ball or at 2nd slip.
- David Gower - languid elegance at the crease, his cover drive a thing of beauty in itself. Look at his average and then think of the bowlers he faced. An electric fielder until he knackered his shoulder.
- Sir Geoffrey - say no more - always a controversial choice so get your comments in quick - but for FB, Boycs is a true great - selfish, arrogant, obsessive not a team man but no one got in line better - if you wanted someone to open to save your life there's no other choice. Oh, also worth his place for introducing the great phrases 'corridor of uncertainty' and 'my mum could play this bowling with a stick of rhubarb'.
- Alan Knott - saviour in the lower middle order of many an English innings and the complete keeper. Sans pariel behind the timbers.
- Michael Holding - whispering death - FB saw him once at the Oval - man he was quick and it is true he just poured over the ground in his run up. Without him Johnners' greatest line - 'the bowler's Holding - the batsman's Willey' - could not have happened.
- Viv Richards - the master blaster - that swagger as he walked to the crease, those huge shoulders, that clip to mid wicket. Simply the greatest.
- Dennis Lillee - no other bowling action seems as perfect to FB (certainly not his own) - all raw aggression and horrendous moustaches.
- Zaheer Abbas - a great when Pakistani cricket began to show its teeth. Smooth as silk in puttting the ball just where it had to go.
- Kapil Dev - showed the Indians that they could produce a pace bowler - played with such evident enjoyment.
- Bishan Bedi - forget all this fancy leg spin stuff - Bedi was craft, guile and a threat at any time.
- Imran Khan - exceptional leader - great fast bowler - really brought the inswinging yorker into prominence.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
The National Trust for Scotland
Carlton followers will be looking with concern at recent reports about the National Trust for Scotland. Facing financial perdition, this eminent organisation is contemplating modernisation - in Fantasy Bob's experience, a term that is characterictically a euphemism for disaster, dumbing down and the launch an up-dated web-site.
Key among the proposals being considered is the disposal of a number of the Trust's properties. Carlton fans wish to establish at the earliest opportunity the implications for a historical property of particular significance to them. In recognition of his historical importance, Shaun Barnacle Barrett has been preserved for the nation by the National Trust since shortly after the First World War. His hamstrings have been carefully conserved by the Trust's experts, extending the useful life of these artefacts byond measure.
The delicate condition of this historical relic has required a strict regime of limited exposure to the public. However Barnacle is regularly on display during the tourist season - usually between the first and 21st over of the Carlton 4th XI innings. On occasion, visiting tourists can be fortunate and observe Barnacle taking (or attempting) a quick single, a wistful reminder of times far off.
The faded family motto can still be seen on his cap 'Form is temporary, class is eternal.'
It is vital that this monument is preserved for future generations to enjoy. All Carlton friends and supporters are urged to join the 'Barnacle for the Nation' campaign to ensure he is not lost forever.
Key among the proposals being considered is the disposal of a number of the Trust's properties. Carlton fans wish to establish at the earliest opportunity the implications for a historical property of particular significance to them. In recognition of his historical importance, Shaun Barnacle Barrett has been preserved for the nation by the National Trust since shortly after the First World War. His hamstrings have been carefully conserved by the Trust's experts, extending the useful life of these artefacts byond measure.
The delicate condition of this historical relic has required a strict regime of limited exposure to the public. However Barnacle is regularly on display during the tourist season - usually between the first and 21st over of the Carlton 4th XI innings. On occasion, visiting tourists can be fortunate and observe Barnacle taking (or attempting) a quick single, a wistful reminder of times far off.
The faded family motto can still be seen on his cap 'Form is temporary, class is eternal.'
It is vital that this monument is preserved for future generations to enjoy. All Carlton friends and supporters are urged to join the 'Barnacle for the Nation' campaign to ensure he is not lost forever.
The historical monument in its finest glory.
Picture courtesy of Carlton CC picture library.
Picture courtesy of Carlton CC picture library.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
A sporting great
Readers will eagerly have opened this page, its title inviting them at last to expect something sensible and serious on an issue which is of abiding concern to them - sporting endeavour. 'No more about biscuits', is the cry that has increasingly been heard in the better parts of Edinburgh society and beyond. Even Haris Aslam's interest in biscuits is reported to be waning.
Fantasy Bob can only bend the knee, tug the forelock and oblige. Putting all further talk of biscuits well behind him, he wishes to use this precious space to encourage his readers - all 3 of them - to share his admiration and enjoyment of a true sporting great - PG Wodehouse.
A number of PG Wodehouse's early works are based on or make reference to cricket. These are regretably hard to come by in bookshops, although the excellent Gutenberg project recognises their worth as great works of literature and has prepared on line versions. Reputedly the finest of Plum's cricket works, 'Mike' can be found on this link.
But FB thinks that Wodehouse's long series of stories on golf are the pinnacle of his sporting output. In these stories he describes the impacts of sporting activity at all levels on the human psyche in a masterly fashion. In the week that sees the Ryder Cup the attention of even the most resolute of Carlton's cricketing minds may be distracted by events on the links. It is therefore appropriate to look to Plum's work for some wisdom. Here are a couple of shining examples taken from a formidably wonderful short story called 'The Magic Plus Fours'
'Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.'
'[Golf's] great service to humanity is that it teaches human beings that, whatever petty triumphs they may have achieved in other walks of life, they are after all merely human. It acts as a corrective against sinful pride. I attribute the intence arrogance of the later Roman emperors almost entirely to the fact that , never having played golf, they never knew that strange chastening humility which is engendered by a topped chip-shot. If Cleopatra had been outed in the first round of the Ladies' Singles, we should have heard a lot less of her proud imperiousness.'
Eternal truths - and for Fantasy Bob equally true if you substitute batting for golf.
There are pages and pages of this stuff. A true master. In FB's opinion, as stylist of the English language, Wodehouse's command of line and length is bettered by only a very few players. Jane Austen, Evelyn Waugh and possibly George Orwell. Test quality players all. Do try him. He is also very funny.
Fantasy Bob can only bend the knee, tug the forelock and oblige. Putting all further talk of biscuits well behind him, he wishes to use this precious space to encourage his readers - all 3 of them - to share his admiration and enjoyment of a true sporting great - PG Wodehouse.
A number of PG Wodehouse's early works are based on or make reference to cricket. These are regretably hard to come by in bookshops, although the excellent Gutenberg project recognises their worth as great works of literature and has prepared on line versions. Reputedly the finest of Plum's cricket works, 'Mike' can be found on this link.
But FB thinks that Wodehouse's long series of stories on golf are the pinnacle of his sporting output. In these stories he describes the impacts of sporting activity at all levels on the human psyche in a masterly fashion. In the week that sees the Ryder Cup the attention of even the most resolute of Carlton's cricketing minds may be distracted by events on the links. It is therefore appropriate to look to Plum's work for some wisdom. Here are a couple of shining examples taken from a formidably wonderful short story called 'The Magic Plus Fours'
'Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.'
'[Golf's] great service to humanity is that it teaches human beings that, whatever petty triumphs they may have achieved in other walks of life, they are after all merely human. It acts as a corrective against sinful pride. I attribute the intence arrogance of the later Roman emperors almost entirely to the fact that , never having played golf, they never knew that strange chastening humility which is engendered by a topped chip-shot. If Cleopatra had been outed in the first round of the Ladies' Singles, we should have heard a lot less of her proud imperiousness.'
Eternal truths - and for Fantasy Bob equally true if you substitute batting for golf.
There are pages and pages of this stuff. A true master. In FB's opinion, as stylist of the English language, Wodehouse's command of line and length is bettered by only a very few players. Jane Austen, Evelyn Waugh and possibly George Orwell. Test quality players all. Do try him. He is also very funny.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Running away to sea
Fantasy Bob is at sea this week - 'Yeh, yeh,' you will be thinking, 'Just like when he's at the crease.'
But this is the real thing he is taking a cruise in the Irish Sea on a yacht like this one - 72ft of real boat.
Ignore the legend on the hull here - obviously FB not going as a youth, but on a trip arranged by his good friends at sportscotland Cumbrae. It is one of Fantasy Bob'smany hidden talents that he is a yachtsman of some modest accomplishment.
There is lots to commend in the work of the Ocean Youth Trust whose yacht this is. Have a look at the good work they do.
In an interesting test of his computer skills, FB think he has pre-programmed some more of usual rubbish to appear on this blog during his absence. Enjoy.
But this is the real thing he is taking a cruise in the Irish Sea on a yacht like this one - 72ft of real boat.
Ignore the legend on the hull here - obviously FB not going as a youth, but on a trip arranged by his good friends at sportscotland Cumbrae. It is one of Fantasy Bob's
There is lots to commend in the work of the Ocean Youth Trust whose yacht this is. Have a look at the good work they do.
In an interesting test of his computer skills, FB think he has pre-programmed some more of usual rubbish to appear on this blog during his absence. Enjoy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)