Umbrellas Out!

A busy few days and dodging the rain showers has meant that my grass is desperately overgrown and I can't get on it to cut it. I've been to one wedding evening (I wasn't very well), and yet another wedding evening, I've done a day at a local Hospice summer extravaganza to try to help them raise money and many other bits and pieces. I've even cleaned someones carpet using one of those new fangled carpet cleaners - it worked well. I've been to Derbyshire on business and the Queen's had her birthday.

Well the jubilee celebrations are now at an end and life sort of draws back to some normality, except that it's Euro2012 football tournament and as I write this, England have just drawn with France 1-1. Now although I did ten years on the committee of the local Boys League and I am on the board of Directors of the East Riding County FA, these days I am more interested on how football is run than the actual game itself.  When I was a kid I supported Hull City AFC which as the nearest local team and my dad was a junior there in the 1950s. These days I remain firmly neutral and to be fair, its great. The only team I 'support' and by that I mean I really want them to do well, is my national team, England. I follow Hull City in the news and watch for the results, but that's about my only interest in them now although of course I hope they do well.

I've never been to the national football stadium at Wembley either the old one or the new one and I don't think I have the passion to go to be honest. Given a free ticket, I might get myself there one day - I might put it on my bucket list.

I was never very sporting, I never had the stamina to run about for hours on end. I played a bit of cricket which I enjoyed tremendously, and I love cricket to watch and even now, I rarely miss any cricket on the TV or radio if I'm in the car. I've been to Trent Bridge in Nottingham to see an England test match (I think it was against the West Indies) and I've been to Headingly (Leeds) to watch England versus Australia which was abandoned after a vandal broke in on the night after I went and daubed the wicket in oil to protest against a miscarriage of justice! Idiot! 

Its a bit noisier now at test matches but I have to say I love the atmosphere that is portrayed on the TV, lots of singing, dressing up in fancy dress on Saturdays and great coverage. Different from the stuffy old days. I wish I had the time to go these days; you never know, I may do.

Chat soon - stay dry

Ta-ra

It's NOT Cricket Sir...

Autumn has definitely arrived. There are strong winds, my grass is full of leaves and the flowers are looking jaded. When the BBC weatherman mentioned a 'touch of frost' last night you know that the time for checking the central heating clock is upon us.

I guess that's something to do with age. My own medicine would normally be 'put a jumper on' and save a few bob on heating bills, but I'd rather go into a warm bathroom and a warm, dry towel at 6.30 in a morning.

I won't dwell on this today, but waking up to the news that there are allegations of spot betting fixing in the England Vs Pakistan 4th test at Lords leaves a real sour taste in the mouth. Spot betting isn't about the outcome of the match, but about what you do during the game, like when to bowl a no ball, or allow yourself to be bowled out. This may not have an effect on the outcome of the match but hits at the very heart of the integrity of this great game. As I watch the teams come out to play this morning's session, the commentator said that it was a '...gloomy day at Lords, in more ways than one' So true.

I bought a new lens for my camera over the weekend so I need to go and get a new camera bag. I'm taking the opportunity to nip in and use Sunday shopping to get a new bag and have a Chinese lunch at one of these places where you can eat as much as you like for £7. I won't be eating masses because I'm still being careful, but having a variety of food is a real treat.

The 'new' cats are in a playful mood today and are play-fighting each other and for the first time they have both been chasing their own tales which is indeed hilarious and good entertainment. They have been out in the garden, under supervision and Jack has already been to the top of the Norway Maple tree, some 30 feet in the air.

On Friday night, a work colleague who was starting her maternity leave held a 'leaving do' at an Italian restaurant in Beverley and my meal which (in English) was Mediterranean chicken was sublime and not too expensive. The group (I don't know, probably twenty) went to a very nice but noisy pub afterwards and again, I realised that my age stood in the way of having a good time and I left early leaving them to socialise in a very noisy, crowded and hot pub.

Hope you have a great Bank Holiday weekend (in England & Wales), lets hope for warmer weather for this last of Bank Holidays before Christmas.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

100 not out!

Welcome to my one hundredth blog!
I have never written poetry and speak it very badly, rarely getting the rhythm right but I do like reading some of it as long as its not too heavy. In celebration I've written one, about cricket of all things, but it's summer, it's England and village greens are surrendering themselves to the weekend sound of leather on willow, (with old men pulling muscles and young men losing fingernails as they bravely go for balls that are hit far too hard.)

In Tribute to Village Cricket

Not for us the murmuring Lords
This village vanguard team;
‘Tis just enough to cross our swords
Wi’ lads from beyond the stream.

Our flat green wicket, amid the square:
The scene of battle many,
Where heroes only here may dare
And cowards ne’er tarry.

No Flintoft here to smirk and sledge
To frighten man and boy,
Just grocer Tom with simple pledge
His Yorkers to deploy.

Umpire Fred puts on the bails
And roaming dogs do cower,
Mongrels slink with lowered tails
To avoid his look so sour.

Locals gather around the flags
With nervous anticipation;
Deck chairs, beer and trembling fags
At village son’s participation.

The first ball’s down, short and wide,
The batsman plays and nicks;
‘Owzat’ in unison, aloud is cried -
The index finger flicks.

The wickets fall, the runs are meagre,
Home lads are steaming through;
To see Tail-enders off, and eager
For a welcomed interval brew.

The Umpire is surely having a laugh!
(Our innings starts with a falter;)
“You’re out, it calls to you, the bath,”
Sacrificed on seamers alter.

The bouncers whizz, the out-swing teases
Our lads, it seems no answer;
With fours so rare and singles squeezes-
To the score it’s no enhancer.

Last over comes, eleven’s facing
Nightmares all coming true;
Onslaught - sinews tired of bracing,
Body black and blue.

Just four required, no skill has he
As rocket like, ball comes down;
Thick outside edge past slip men three
Cherry skips with bowler’s frown.

Will ball meet boundary as runs come slow?
Field-er dives headlong;
The ball sneaks past the boundary flag,
Air punched and victory song!

No hard feelings, hands are shaken,
Backs are heartily slapped;
Beer is served in yonder pavilion,
A good day’s work is capped.

The dogs return, the walkers roam,
Of victory, memory fades;
On this green veldt, on English loam
That once saw willow blades.

Copyright and intellectual property of
'Rarelesserspotted'
July 2009

Chat soon

Ta-ra!

Someone's just walked over my grave...

A few days off now to relax at home with all the jobs my other half has lined up for me but I'll be sneaking out to do some visiting in the local area, camera in hand. Blow me, I've not timed my holiday to coincide with the third test match, I'll only see the first four days at most. Horror upon horror, Kevin Pieterson is ruled out of the rest of the series - all well it's not just about one man but with Freddie Flintoft crocked with a bad knee, England might be a bit under par (sounds as if I'm making excuses - I am!) For the uninitiated - it's cricket!

There was a fantastic poem voice over on an advert for cricket for BBC Test Match Special aired on the TV just before the last test with a cricket theme; if anyone knows what it was can they let me know - I've searched the BBC site for it and can't find it anywhere. I might have to write to Radio Times.

Moving away from the Great Game (NOT football), I had an interesting experience last night at my psychic circle which I'll share with you and perhaps if you have a view and want to mention it - you are very welcome, just be constructive.

We had a hypnotherapist visit the group and as a group we underwent something called past life regression. This is where we enter into a very deep meditation and, supposedly, connect with any one of our many previous lives that we've had here on this wonderful planet. It's an interesting experience, I've done it before under controlled circumstances and found it fascinating and also revealing about a character trait I still have today that manifested itself in most of my previous lives. It's also emotional, as we lived (if you believe it) in the past when life was harder and more difficult and in many ways, cheaper and less precious as it is considered today.

One of our group, a lady also had a one to one regression after our group session had finished while we all watched and she was led into deep meditation and after a few minutes became an old man living in mid Victorian Manchester England with his wife. There were names, places, dates, social details and these can be checked against the Internet to see if such a person existed. The sitter also experienced some discomfort in her hands that the old man was supposed to be suffering from.

As a kid I remember a film, in black and white I think of the Search for Bridey Murphy taken from a real life incident where an American woman Virginia Tighe had regression therapy, then she unexpectedly went back to a former life (of Bridey Murphy) during her hypnosis and described her life in intimate detail, far beyond her ability to have that knowledge. That event was controversial and the original Murphy who Tighe purported to be in a former life who had lived in Ireland in the nineteenth century could not be traced.

It seems, although I have no evidence to substantiate it whatsoever, that we may have lived a number of lives before, in different social classes, different genders, lived to different ages with totally different characters perhaps from another land or continent.

People often have the therapy of past life regression to find answers about character traits they have today, why they act how they act and often many of those we are with today as partners, brothers, sisters, relatives or friends have been with us before, albeit in different bodies, in a spiritual sense.

Claptrap or fact? There's no real hard, tangible evidence, period.

Have you ever been regressed? How did you find the experience? Did you learn anything about yourself?

It might simply all be a question of faith. Faith in what, I'm not sure and what's the purpose, what does it achieve? If you have a view, let me know and tell others what you think.

Here's today's story offering:

A man died and went to heaven and St Peter asked who he was. "My Name is Steven Richards," said the man.
"And what did you do for a living?"
"I was unemployed."
"Unemployed eh?" Pondered St Peter. "Have you ever done anything especially good in your life?"
"As a matter of fact I was walking down the street and saw a gang of ugly, hairy bikers threatening this poor innocent young woman at the side of the road. I went up to the head biker and punched him on the nose, then kicked him where it hurts and then told them all to clear off and leave this poor woman alone."
"I have no record of this highly commendable and brave deed, "said St Peter. "When did this occur?"
"About five minutes ago."

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Dear Mr Onions...

I have many weaknesses (I'm a bloke) and one of them is cricket. It was the only game I played when I was younger that I was any good at in an average sort of way. The weakness lies in not being able to turn away from the television when a test match is on. I can live without television I suspect, but I would miss the sound of leather on willow on the big screen. This opening gambit is just a link to the subject of the day (don't say in four words what you can say in a paragraph) which is surnames. England hero on his debut Graham Onions took five wickets in his maiden innings as a bowler and will have his name written in the Lord's hall of fame for all to see for a very long time.

"I became a great runner because if you're a kid in Leeds and your name is Sebastian, you've got to be a great runner." Sebastian Coe, Athlete

Graham doesn't use an alternative of how to say the name of the faithful British favourite vegetable - the onion. He could use the pronunciation 'Oh - nye - ons,' but he is proud of his name. If he was bullied because of it when he was a child, he is surely sticking his tongue out at his detractors now - answering them with his abilities while representing his country at the highest level.

I was trying to think of some good Yorkshire names that I grew up with at a time when the population was less transient - didn't need to move around because jobs were plentiful and local. I can remember that in the early sixties if you didn't stay in your home town, you moved for a better job or stayed in your university town, or joined the armed forces or met a loved one and moved away to marry. Up here we tend to be a bit parochial. How about 'Backhouse' as a good Yorkshire name, and I always imagined 'Arkwright' was local to us - and memories of Ronnie Barker's formidable shopkeeper; sadly such a Yorkshire sounding name hails from our rivals in Lancashire. 'Wasling' was a common one where I came from in East Yorkshire with the top three names: Smith, Green and Roberts. Thwaite is another local to Yorkshire.

I was always told there all surnames derived from four sources: place where you came from; occupation; 'son of'; and nicknames. I used to do loads of family history transcriptions of old parish registers onto computer and I remember some corkers: How about one woman I recorded who was a single mother in the eighteenth century called 'Whalebelly'. 'Smellie' was another common one and 'Death,' often written De'ath and pronounced 'Dee- ath,' was not unusual.

Would you be interested to know that according to one quality daily paper, traditional surnames are disappearing as people change unpopular surnames and some of the most popular in Britain today are Chinese.

Ah well the weekend is upon us dear reader of blogs. Nothing too exciting planned outside because the weather is not forecast to be decent, but I have acquired a second hand treadmill to help with the diet (I could never eat a whole on all at once), so I'll no doubt end up exhausted and something will end up getting sprained no doubt. I'll have to warm up like a premiership footballer; I saw Chelsea's Drogba do something different this week after his team's defeat at Stamford Bridge - I'll go and find a referee and swear at him while waving my hands excitedly - that should do it! If I did, I'd deserve to be locked up - so did Drogba!

Legendary Liverpool FC manager Bill Shankly once said to a player in answer to a question about how to perform in front of goal, "Look, if you're in the penalty area son and aren't quite sure what to do with the ball, just stick it in their net and we'll discuss your options later." Wise man.

Have a great weekend,

Chat Soon,

Ta-ra!

It's Just Not Cricket...

Cricket was the only game, as a young guy, I was ever any good at to a reasonably competent local level thanks to a dedicated teacher Brian Chubb who took his duties as sports teacher seriously including spending his time out of school getting kids to play sport. I played twice in goal for the school soccer team in goal (won one, drew one) and I broke the school shot putt record once.

"It's a funny sort of a month, October. For the really keen cricket fan, it's when you discover your wife left you in May." Dennis Norden, 1977.

Cricket however when I played is not the same as it is today. To be fair, professionally, it's much more of an athletes game now than it was although the skill levels are not much different - the pace is quicker. 20 - 20 cricket, one day internationals (ODIs), three day county games and five day tests starting on a Thursday and playing on the Sunday and the world cup are just some of the changes. This was all prompted by the outrageous (at the time) action by Kerry Packer who organised a highly paid rebel tour that stunned the establishment, and things were never the same again.

Imagine my mirth today to learn of the investigation into an alleged $8B investment fraud by Sir Allen Stanford (source BBC News online), the man who sponsored the controversial Cricket Super Series matches which took place in November, which England lost comprehensively to the Stanford Superstars, who netted $20m (£12.4m). I understand contracts for further tournaments have been suspended. Good.

That amount of money - similar to the obscene money paid to top flight professional footballers will bring down professional sport if we are not careful in the current climate.

I was saddened to hear of the retirement today of Richie Benault from commentating duties. The former Australian cricket captain has been commentating on cricket for 47 years and with some notable others, became the voice of the sport. The others were the late John Arlott, Brian Johnston (Jonners), and Benault's co-commentator for many years, the late Jim Laker who took an awe inspiring 19 wickets for England against Australia in 1956 in just one match at Old Trafford.

Listen to Jonners greatest moment here during a cricket commentary on BBC Radio 4 Test Match Special

Three spelling mistakes today :(

Chat soon

Ta-ra