Green cricket box causes amusement

There was a lot of rather ignorant tittle-tattle yesterday in the comments section of this inspired Currencies Direct inspired column about my use of the word “awry” in the headline “Sunday Plans go awry”. The English Dictionary definition of awry is “away from the usual or expected course” so I used the word rather than saying it wasn’t awright.

After the maelstrom of a weekend which was all great fun, it was back to the reality of a 5:2 diet day yesterday, so if you don’t mind, and frankly you have no choice, I will dwell on events that occurred over the weekend. It was a sensational three days, starting on Friday with a take away curry at the Kings Arms, then through Saturday evening for Thai food in Storrington ending up in the White Hart, and then Sunday lunchtime back in the Kings Arms, where we met some new and in some cases very poorly dressed individuals. It was all great fun, but all good things must come to an end, with then possible exception of that diet.

I have to remember these events due to the virtual nil by mouth regime that befell me again yesterday. The dream of food and strong drink is over powering when gruel is all that is on the menu. Good quality gruel, but I know how Oliver Twist must have felt.

An iconic tree on the periphery of Arundel Castle cricket ground.

Yesterday morning I went to Chichester to buy cricket gear. The Over 50’s, 60’s and 70’s cricket nets were taking place at the Arundel Castle Cricket indoor cricket school on the castle cricket grounds, featured in today’s photograph, and I needed some new cricket gear, having jettisoned mine when I retired to concentrate on golf about 10 years ago. It was a surprise that I could source cricket equipment in the middle of winter, and somewhat ironic to be thinking about returning to the cricket pitch when most of the country is under water. If it stops raining tomorrow, and according to the weather forecasts that is about as likely as Kevin Pietersen being asked to return to the English cricket team, then we might get to play by the end of June.

So armed with a new batting gloves, shiny new pads and a very trendy looking bat to go with my green box, at least I looked the part before being humiliated by a couple of 70 year olds, being bowled twice in a 25 minute net. I know that one of my dedicated French readers and limerick writers,  of whom the lovely Winnie is one, who seem to have taken up literary residence in the comments section (some are very good if you get a chance to have a look), will want to know the relevance of a green box. The colour is of no consequence, except to my fellow cricketers, who derived a great deal of amusement when it fell out of my new cricket bag. It is what it does that counts. A cricket ball is five and a half ounces of rounded hardness that could do some serious damage if it were to make contact with ones wedding tackle (Actually I am getting into colloquial deep waters here, but stay with me). It is a cricketers description of an abdominal protector, basically a hard plastic soap dish type of construction designed to protect ones testicles. That other English colloquialism “the wedding tackle” has nothing to do with rugby, it is an expression that refers to, well… I am sure she will work it out.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News