Swathes of uncut grass in the Groves to encourage wild flowers and insects also encourage little girls to make daisy chains and collect posies. Grown ups seem to enjoy picnicking among the cool, green, aromatic leaf blades and buttercups. Country ways return. Long may the grass stay long.
A stiff necks that has haunted me through the winter drives me at last to a Chiropractic. My neck is after one session already more tensile. But almost the best thing is that the chiropractic, name of Andy, is a regular at The Compasses (or almostt). Unlike my dentist to whom I want to chat but because of the nature of his trade I can't, the chiropractic is free to talk as he manipulates bone and muscle. He I and find much in common including beer and cricket. He likes test matches as distinct from 20/twenty, which we agree is not the sort of cricket you can call cricket.
3 comments:
When I was a kid, we played tap-it-and-run with a tennis ball, and your hand as the bat. That wasn't real cricket either, but more enjoyable than T20. I cannot think of a better way to compromise any cricketing skill one might possess, than by playing T20. Now test cricket, that's proper cricket.
When we were kids my brother and I played entire test matches between ourselves in our small back garden. We tossed to be Australia or England. We knew all the players from the radio commentary. So Denis Compton and Bill Edrich, the Bedser twins came to life in our hands and performed as never before at a single wicket. The only Australian I can remember was Keith Miller, a dangerous all-rounder.
Keith Miller - Flew Mosquitos in WW2, was frequently done for using foul language at his superiors, escaped death several times, threatened his superior officer with a punching and came close to a dishonourable discharge. A very honourable Ozzie indeed.
Stiff neck. Me too, this winter especially. I shall look for a chiropractor who drinks. Conversation is no problem - I force it upon all of the medical or quasi-medical persuasion.
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