Feel the rush

As you may know I am particularly keen on my sport and have been dipping in and out of the World Athletics Championships in Beijing over the past few weeks. Pleasing as it was to see the English team doing well it was great to see David Rudisha back to his best. Top of the tree as ever was Usain Bolt who having narrowly beaten arch rival Justin Gatlin to retain his 100 metres title then destroyed him and the rest of the field in the 200 metres final. It may take him longer to tie his laces than it does to complete the race but there is always a sense of expectation whenever he takes to the track. I still get the feeling that he has more left in the tank, maybe he is saving it for Rio but I would hate to think he is holding back because if you're going to break records then there is no time like now because there are no guarantees of form or fitness in the future.

With the athletics still fresh in my mind I was in the locker room of my local sports club on Friday having participated in the regular squash night session. A couple of my mates and I were discussing recent events when I became distracted by an individual who had just entered the changing rooms. Usually at around 08:30 the changing room is packed full of sweaty squash players and members of the Taekwondo club. From what I have seen of their training sessions the rough and tumble for space in the changing rooms is the closest they get to justifying it as a contact sport.

This may have been a weekend that the Taekwondo boys went away since we pretty much had the room to ourselves and the guy who had just walked in. I was wondering what sport he was planning to participate in at this time of night since he was not carrying any equipment other than a holdall. Generally I do not pay much attention to others in the locker room since I find the steamy environment oppressive and it fogs up my glasses. An issue that is not helped by the heating having been on for most of the Summer.

From the shower I watched as this newcomer walked up and down the room, admiring himself in the wash basin mirrors. I must admit that being a public sports centre I do tend to keep one eye on my kit while I am taking a shower, and this guy was behaving oddly. He had left the room twice and returned by the time I had finished my shower. My friends and I were once more debating the athletics when he eventually decided to change into his gym kit. He then disappeared into one of the toilet cubicles and suitably refreshed, emerged, stripped off, jumped in the shower and got back into his civvies. I was bidding my farewell to my friends as he started to dress and thought no more about it until I was on my way home. Was this some sort of prank or was it the shortest workout in history? Maybe the guy strained himself in every sense of the word. Perhaps it was some new sport that I have never heard of. There seem to have been quite a few weird attempts over recent years to create unusual sports - chess boxing, free running, etc. One university even tried introducing a form of squash played in total darkness, with lines marked in luminous paint.

I have been on the premises when a couple of lorry drivers were caught by the staff trying to have a free shower at the centre's expense, that I can understand, what happened on Friday is beyond my comprehension.

Thinking about the shortest workout ever reminded me of a time when I worked in a small branch sales office with a disproportionate number of sports enthusiasts. There were only 32 of us, 23 of whom were male and with ages ranging from mid-20s to mid-50s, yet we managed to put out a competitive rugby 15 against the rest of the company. The 23 was reduced to 22 on account of one individual (who would have been a shoe-in had he been able to get a boot over his plaster cast or his crutch). We were pretty well covered in most areas with the exception of height so we were quite relieved when one of the managers who happened to be 6' 3'” and had only recently given up the game agreed to play in the second row. We were a complete scratch team, who had never played together, though many of us played or had played for different local club sides. This manager, who shall remain nameless, looked very good in the changing rooms, clean but well used boots, his own scrum cap, ran on the spot nicely in the warmup and gave a rousing braveheart rant during the huddle (more Gielgudian eloquence than Olivieresque abrasion).

Some were impressed by his keenness in rehearsing his 'hakka' in the dressing room, personally I thought he was going through the dance steps for 'Brotherhood of Man's Eurovision hit, 'Save your kisses for me'. In hindsight a hakka was a bit overambitious given that we had never played together as a team before let alone practiced synchronised grunting and gurning.

The 'rest of the company' won the toss and chose to kick off at which point our game plan fell apart, as did the aforementioned manager. A lofted drop kick drifted out towards the touch line and 'our secret weapon' collapsed on the floor like a house of cards before the ball had even bounced. The game was halted, his leg inspected and 2 of our cheerleaders were summoned to support him as he hobbled from the pitch. I believe there was ice available for his torn calf muscle though our 'sponge man' being the sympathetic soul that he was handed him a cold sponge and chose to save the ice for the Gin and Tonics.

In retrospect we were a fairly unusual bunch since we were the only branch to ever put out a team consisting entirely of staff members. We managed to field a passable football 11, a strong cricket team and 2 squash teams, one of which contained 4 county level players.

It is a sad reflection of how attitudes towards work and leisure have changed that the company that I now work for was recently challenged by one of our customers to a 'friendly' game of cricket yet was unable to mass more than 6 players willing to represent the company from a national workforce of over 2500.

If I have learned anything in my years of playing sport it is to expect the unexpected so last Friday was nothing really out of the normal.

The ultimate catch

Fortunately throughout my life I have never been someone who has given much thought to their age. Why should I? There is nothing I can do about it. There may have been times when I had wished I had been a little bit older, so that I may have enjoyed more of the 60s music scene or younger so that I could still be playing as much sport as I used to do, but overall I am pretty satisfied with the hand that I have been dealt.

That said, a friend and I were recently debating the favourite county cricket matches which we had seen in our teens. I casually mentioned how I was looking forward to spending the odd day or two reliving those times slumped in a deckchair, with thermos and sarnies watching the county games in my retirement. Not only did it dawn on me that retirement is now considerably closer than I had realised but the way the game is going there may very well be no proper county cricket played by the time I do pack up the day job. From delight to despair in a matter of seconds.

It is understandable that the bean counters should want to maximise the revenue from the 20-20 game but the 5 day test match is to my mind the blue riband of cricket and the only way players can learn how to play that type of game is through playing the 3 day game.

I still enjoy the one day game and I can appreciate the 20-20 version as a spectacle but I don't like the pyjamas and razzamattaz that goes with it. Each of the versions of the game has their own set of technical demands and strategies and not every player is capable of adapting their game to suit each discipline. It is a bit like expecting a derby runner to win the Grand National or Usain Bolt to be equally as adept at running the marathon.

In my club cricketing days we used to put a team into the evening knockout tournament which was a 20 over cup competition for clubs in the area. As both player and spectator it was always enjoyable to be play on a beautiful ground on a warm July evening while watching the sunset. Availability apart no club could ever play their full 1^st XI and in our case there were at least 2 players who were deemed ineligible for selection on grounds that the game would be over before they had finished kitting themselves up with their usual array of liniments, bandages and additional padding.

This conversation has played on my mind for several days now and though it has been great to rekindle the memories of watching my boyhood heroes there is a nagging doubt in my mind that there will be a yawning gap in my retirement if I can't perambulate the boundary and sit in the sun listening to the thud of ball on willow. 

 

Where is the love?

May has been a strange month with quite a few stories catching my eye for all sorts of reasons – apart from scratching the head and blinking a couple of times to confirm what I have read the thought has crossed my mind most frequently in the past few weeks has been ‘Where is the love?’.

After one of the most lack-lustre, over-hyped and elongated elections ever the UK now has the government that it deserves. Not that I think that any particular party deserved to win on merit, but someone had to and there is a lot to be said for better the devil you know. The faces may have changed but the key issues are the same as they have always been, no one has come up with any radical solution to tackle any of the problems because any proposal for radical change is tantamount to political suicide.

At least we no longer have the ‘love-in’ between David Cameron and Nick Clegg but doubtless we will witness the tories going out of their way to embrace the SNP following their overwhelming success north of the border. Yes, there are probably a number of things that they could control better in Scotland but  I sense an element of ‘having one’s cake and eating it’. The tail seemingly wants to wag the dog from Scotland in the same way that Cameron wants to wag the European dog from Westminster – neither work for me.

The tories may have scraped in with a small majority but I do not get that cosy feeling of welcoming back an old friend, more a distant relative who has shown up on the doorstep unannounced.

Fall out from the election means that both the Liberal Democrats and Labour will be seeking to appoint new leaders. If you  are not already turned off by politics then you have a Summer of electioneering ahead that will last up to the start of the party conferences in September.

A story that has attracted much press attention is the arrival, and departure, of Kevin Pietersen. The England Cricket team’s dismal performance in the World Cup was followed by a similarly woeful performance in the recent test series in the West Indies. Paul Downton and Peter Moores being the sacrificial scapegoats for underachievement, with Andrew Strauss taking over the mantle of Director of Cricket at the ECB.

Having made clear his desire to return to the England fold Kevin Pietersen was advised by the ECB to get back to playing for a county side and start scoring runs again.  He duly rejoined Surrey instead of going to the lucrative Indian Premier League and announced his return with a career-best unbeaten 335 in a championship game against Leicestershire. Andrew Strauss, who famously fell out with KP then announced that there would be no place for him in the test setup because of ‘Trust issues’. Not surprisingly KP booked the next flight to India only to be ruled out through injury.

In the next few months England have 2 test matches against an in form New Zealand side followed by the Ashes series against Australia. None of the present England team have demonstrated any real consistency this season and devoid of confidence the side will do well to make any headway in either series.

I am not the greatest KP fan but on his day he can be one of the most destructive batsmen around and no opposing team would relish seeing his name on the team sheet.  He also draws the crowds in a way that few others can, at a time when interest in the game is on the wane.

There have always been mavericks in cricket, sometimes it has been difficult to accommodate them within a team but in this instance the situation should be fairly clear cut – in a stuttering side that has woefully under-performed you need to pick the best players available and for that reason I feel that he should have been given his recall.

Maybe he was misled by the cricketing authorities, maybe he wasn’t, the fact remains that the handling of the whole issue has brought further shame on the ECB when they are already under pressure to turn around performances.

Joking, Pietersen himself suggested he should apply for the vacant position of England coach – now there is a thought.

Elsewhere in sport, Chelsea cruised to the Premiership title, much to the disgust of many football purists while the relegation of Burnley from the league elicited a great deal of sympathy given the high standard of entertainment they brought to the league this season. Statistics would suggest that Chelsea were as productive and entertaining as any of the other clubs in the league, just goes to show that success doesn’t guarantee you popularity.

Possibly feeling the love – 3 of the most respected role models in English football bid their farewells to the Premiership at the end of the season - Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard depart these shores for America’s MSL while Brad Friedel hangs up his gloves at the age of 43. 

Not feeling the love?   Preston North End fans must be delighted to reach the League One Play-off Final at Wembley against Swindon. 30,000 fans are likely to make the trip to Wembley on 24^th May but unfortunately none of them will be able to travel by train due to scheduled engineering work by Virgin Trains – who by coincidence happen to be the official shirt sponsor of the Lancashire club. 

The emergency aid teams around the world seem to be have had even more responsibility than usual placed upon them. Apart from the ongoing demands for their services in areas of conflict and famine they have struggled to come to terms with the devastating effect of the recent earthquakes in Nepal that has killed more than 9,000 people, injured more than 19,000 and left  millions without shelter.

The month has also seen a horrendous loss of life among refugees fleeing across the Mediterranean  Sea in overcrowded boats, trying to take advantage of the calmer waters at this time of year. The EU is being stretched to breaking point trying to accommodate the influx of people prepared to risk their lives in the hope of finding a better life in an EU country that is ill equipped to care for such numbers or prevent the illegal transportation by people traffickers. Not wanted in their own country, not welcome in a new country – definitely not feeling the love.

Another story that caught my eye was the fact that while the development of cars that drive themselves is progressing at pace it is not permitted to produce records that show the number of incidents involving driverless cars or the extent to which these vehicles have been damaged or caused damage to others. All things considered I should still be around to enjoy being chauffeured around the country in my dotage by a robot. I still believe there is a fair way to go before this can become reality and it doesn’t fill me with confidence when companies are reticent about how efficient or reliable the cars have been. Imagine what the world would be like if humans were not required to report or record their driving indiscretions.

Sport's Summer of sultry, soggy, shocks and success

By nature the British are a stoic and cautious breed which has earned them an international reputation for unpredictability. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the skies and on our playing fields. The weather in and around this small island is notoriously fickle and over recent years the gods have made reigned havoc over the Summer months. Equally unpredictable have been the performances of our sporting elite.

2014 has been a busy year of sport with the Soccer World Cup, the Commonwealth Games, Wimbledon, a long season of international cricket, the Twenty20 World Cup, Golf and a wealth of rugby international fixtures.

As Roy Hodgson says, we are not very good with the ball at our feet and we are not very good with the ball in the air – Now I may not have taken my FA coaching badges but in my understanding that does rather limit our options given the objectives of the game.

Things were going so well up to the point that the team got on the plane. Roy looked very much at home on his fact finding mission to Manaus (in that 'Bemused pensioner abroad' guise - must have really put the fear into the opposition). By and large no one was expecting the side to do brilliantly in this tournament so there should have been no surprises when the overall performance can at best be described as 'understated'. What I did not expect to read were so many people saying afterwards that we should have achieved more. Yes, on our day the team should have done better but based on the performances on the pitch I don't see how we deserved any more. Some of the less fancied teams turned up and raised their game, sadly we did not.

It was an interesting competition, that had its share of great moments, touches of individual brilliance and outstanding games but overall you could not say that any of the teams was in the same bracket as some of the great sides of the past.

The tennis came hard on the back of the soccer which helped the healing process. Andy Murray once more carried the British hopes but never looked at ease following his back problems. The fact that the tournament was played in largely glorious weather was an added bonus and the overall standard was pretty high.

Golf always has been a great leveller and with Tiger Woods returning from injury and Rory McIlroy's form wavering it has been an interesting Summer which opened the door for other players to step up to the mark. Though Tiger has already ruled himself out through injury it should be an interesting Ryder Cup at Gleneagles in September.

England's cricketing woes continued throughout most of the Summer. Apart from the last 3 test matches, which were the first we had won in 11 tests, the majority of the performances were way below expected. Alastair Cook and Ian Bell couldn't buy a run, the bowling was average and the middle order batting was unable to step up to the plate with any consistency.

What has been intriguing to me is the number of records that have been set by lower order batsmen. I'm not sure that it tells us much about the standard of batting or bowling, but it has made several of the matches far more entertaining than they deserved to be.

Let's face it, as a bowler James Anderson is one of the best swing-bowlers around, but with bat in hand he is a 'ferret' (the guy they send in after the 'rabbits'). For him to score 95 runs in a test match, at number 11! - It must have been a full moon.

In the 2^nd test England managed to conjure defeat from a winning position and in the remaining 3 tests India capitulated through a mixture of strange team selection, poor bowling and weak batting. A great pity since several of their top order batsmen are very capable run scorers though, Dhoni apart, they were all going through the same turmoil that has thwarted Alastair Cook for much of the past 18 months.

So now we are back to the football season and it would seem that the heat has already made some of the club chairmen tetchy. One manager in the championship was sacked after just one game, and Crystal Palace parted company with their manager, Tony Pulis, 2 days before the start of the season.

The usual frenzy of the transfer market distracts the attention from what is happening on the pitch. Personally, I think it is to the detriment of the game to have a transfer window that stretches into the season. It is hard enough to get a new team of players to gel on the pitch and it can't help not knowing whether you are going have the same squad from one day to the next.

While most clubs are forced to rummage around in the bargain basement it would seem that the present trend is for the rich clubs to buy up any player they deem to be a potential threat to them and loan them out to a team from a league as far removed from their own as possible.

A lot of money appears to have changed hands but it is hard to see that any Premier League side has greatly strengthened their squad. I would love someone to explain what is going on at Southampton. Having overachieved last year they have sold the backbone of the team and consequently find themselves favourites for the drop this season. Liverpool have splashed the cash in the expectation of a run in the Champions League, Manchester United, Manchester City,Tottenham, Arsenal and Everton seem to be chasing every player with a world cup pedigree who is unsettled or only has a year left on their contract.

The fact so many of the top clubs have been looking to offload some of their fringe or surplus players (and largely failing) would indicate how the market has been driven by over-priced prima donnas. The number of clubs competing for the top players is increasing as the game increases it global foothold. Transfer fees may continue to rise but you really have to question what you are getting for your money.

Are the likes of Messi, Ronaldo, Bale really worth £80m? Eyebrows were raised when Torres was sold to Chelsea for £50m. Given some of the fees paid of late it is a wonder eyes have not popped out of their sockets.

This time last season I was warming to the transfer of Mehmet Ozil to Arsenal for £42m as shrewd business (the sight of Wenger opening his wallet always raises an eyebrow). Up until Christmas he looked like a man on a mission, since then he looks like a man who has gone missing. A world class player who has lost the 'cl'. Players with the talent of a Torres or an Ozil do not lose their ability overnight, all players go through bad spells, but usually the confidence returns and they bounce back. With the pressures of the game today and the money being spent on the top performing players it remains to be seen how long clubs will wait for players to re-discover their form once it has deserted them.

No sooner has Liverpool's Bad Boy, Luis Suarez, left these shores than they replace him with another bad boy, Mario Balotelli. He might be good for the telly, not so sure what damage he might bring to the dressing-room. And, in what appears to have a whiff of desperation Manchester United have forked out nearly £60m for Argentine winger, Angel Di Maria, taking their spending in the past 2 years to over £200m. Personally, I did not think that Di Maria had a particularly great world cup. Yes, he has a certain talent but I feel his valuation has been boosted by the unavailability of many of the other top players.

Not sure what was going through Arsene Wenger's mind when he allowed Cesc Fabregas to move to Chelsea for £27m. Maybe Arsenal do have a surfeit of midfielders on the payroll but most of them have season tickets for the treatment room, none are natural leaders and allowing a player of his class to go to one of your main competitors, when you have 1^st option would seem contrary to what most other clubs would have done.

 

Clearly the Summer sun has gone to some of the manager's heads, or is it just the heat of the battle.

Bongos at the ready – it's samba time! Let's go Brazil nuts.

With the World Cup, Commonwealth Games, Wimbledon, Sri Lanka and India test matches in this country and some tasty rugby tours taking place in the southern hemisphere I have been really looking forward to a great Summer of sport in the safe knowledge that my heart-rate would not be put placed under too much pressure during any of England's performances.

Never having been a fan of pyjama cricket I can't say that I paid much attention to the Twenty20 World Cup but I did enjoy the test matches against Sri Lanka which were made far more entertaining than they should have been largely due to England's ineptitude with both bat and ball. That both Stuart Broad and James Anderson failed to perform on pitches that were 'tailored' to suit them only served to highlight the lack of a quality spinner. Fine bowlers as they are on their day, neither seemed capable of bowling a consistent length that would put pressure on the Sri Lankan batsmen.

The roof on Centre Court at Wimbledon has improved the spectacle considerably. I watched the match between Eugenie Bouchard and Alize Cornet yesterday and was impressed not only with both performances but the fact that they could hit the ball without squealing like a stuck pig.

On the men's game, the top 4 looked to be in ominous form until the 19 year-old wild card from Australia, Nick Kyrgios, blasted Rafa Nadel out of the competition with an impeccable display of thunderous serving that never allowed the world number 1 to get into his rhythm. It remains to be seen whether the youngster can maintain the quality and focus but with a 133 mph first serve (and a 2^nd serve of not much less) he could cause the other big boys a few headaches.

As for the Soccer World Cup, love the atmosphere in Brazil which has certainly lived up to expectations. I always thought that this would be a particularly open tournament in terms of team performance. The difference in climate around the country has definitely had an influence on some of the games but it has not spoiled the enjoyment of what has so far been a wonderful spectacle, with goals and incidents aplenty.

The climate I believe favours the South American sides yet I don't think there is any stand out team that you could say is a shoe-in for the final.

Teams seem to fall into distinctive styles, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay build the teams around their big names (Neymar, Messi and Suarez respectively) while others have made an impact through a collective performance. Then there is England – who fall into neither category.

Anyone who has taken the remotest interest in the game that is played on the playgrounds and pitches in this country (rather than the hype that is played out on the back pages of the tabloids) will realise the futility of placing any expectations on our national team. Yes, they were poor but I don't think they played as badly as some would have us believe. Would the results have been different if Suarez had been available for the Costa Rica game? What if we had not played Italy in Manaus, or the fixtures had been in reverse order?

Personally I would have liked to see John Terry and Ashley Cole playing. Both have the experience and unlike Steve Gerrard (good player as he is) John Terry is capable of marshalling the back 4, which is where we are particularly weak. Other than those 2, it is hard to say that the squad was not the strongest we could pick for this tournament.

It is frustrating looking at the performances of the likes of Iran, Nigeria and Algeria who have called upon players from lower leagues but still managed to piece together a unit capable of stringing more than half a dozen passes without giving the ball away.

It has always been an irritation to me that so many players at the top level are incapable of kicking the ball with either foot. What I find hard to understand is how often players fail to make a 6 yard pass with their good foot, even when they are under no pressure. Maybe the England team are very good at 'keepie-uppie' but you will never build a cohesive team if you don't have a strategy, can't pass the ball and most importantly can't keep hold of the ball effectively.

Of equal concern is the disappointing quality of heading displayed throughout the tournament. A lot of this is due to poor technique but I think there may be other factors to explain why so many balls bounced tamely off expensively coiffured bonces and ballooned into the arms of a delighted goalkeeper. As an aging man with a receding hairline I know that I am on thin ice when it comes to comments on hairstyles - A lot of players seem to have been sporting a  semi-shaved cut that I can only imagine is a homage to 'the Brazilian' bikini wax. It takes guts to go onto the pitch looking like a tosser, even worse if you play like one - I guess that in years to come they will look back at the footage and cringe in the same way as we all do when confronted by the folly of our youth.

Unfortunately the off field scandals have rumbled on throughout the tournament, fortunately the quality of the football has temporarily diverted the attention from them, but there are still a great many issues that football's governing body needs to address. The awarding of the 2022 tournament to Qatar, corruption within FIFA, match fixing allegations and the cost of staging the tournament. Is it any wonder that Sepp Blatter is roundly booed at every game he chooses to attend. How can he stand up and say that FIFA will investigate the corruption within its own organisation? That surely has to be done by an independent body.

I'm not sure about the conundrum that is Luis Suarez, a great player, compelling to watch but a total liability. This is the 3^rd biting incident during his playing career and I really wonder if the fine and ban imposed on him would have been different if the perpetrator had not had such a high profile in the game. I can't help feeling that a player from the 4^th tier of football would have been banned from game for life while, had the biting occurred anywhere other than on a football field he would have faced criminal charges.

Could Suarez now be come the first footballer to have his teeth ensured for more than his feet? Maybe some enterprising promoter could set up a battle 'Suarez v Tyson – Winner eats all'.

Away from the TV I have been following the World Cup via the BBC website and one particular element did get me thinking. Picking your favourite all-time World Cup XI from a pool selected by experts. It was a lot harder than I had thought because there are several ways that you could approach this. The most effective; the most pleasing to watch; the best balance and I dare say you could think of other criteria to take into consideration.

I have tried to pick a team that from players that I have enjoyed watching over the years and that I believe could play as a cohesive unit. This inevitably has meant that I have been unable to find a place for several of my favourite players but, for posterity, here is my selection for the All-time World Cup XI as well as a Team of the tournament based on the performances that I have seen so far in this World Cup.

All-Time World Cup XI

Dino Zoff (Italy)
Roberto Carlos (Brazil)
Paulo Maldini (Italy)
Franz Beckenbauer (Germany)
Bobby Moore (England)
Jairzinho (Brazil)
Garrincha (Brazil)
Zinedine Zidane (France)
Miroslav Klose (Germany)
Johan Cruyff (Netherlands)
Pele ((Brazil)

Cafu was ruled out for the worst piece of theatricals, Maradona for cheating; Miroslav Klose gets the nod ahead of Gerd Muller on the basis that I can't remember seeing Muller moving anywhere other than inside the penalty box and Cristiano Ronaldo is omitted on grounds that he has never really brought his right boots to the World Cup. 
 

It would have been nice to have found a place for Eusebio and Zico but I would probably go with Platini as reserve, if it was only possible to play with 1 substitute.

2014 World Cup XI

Ochoa (Mexico)
Omeruo (Nigeria)
Hummels (Germany)
Marquez (Mexico)
Zabaleta (Argentina)
James (Columbia)
Valbuena (France)
Pirlo (Italy)
Robben (Netherlands)

Van Persie (Netherlands)
Messi (Argentina)


Substitutes:

Howard (USA)
Beasley (USA)
Cuadrado (Columbia)
Feghouli (Algeria)
Musa (Nigeria)

Muller (Germany)

Who would I pick to go on and win the cup? As I mentioned I don't think any team is playing particularly well at present, but the usual suspect have managed to force their way through to the quarter-final stage. For the sake of the tournament I would like to see Brazil make it to the final; I am not convinced that the Dutch have the temperament to go all the way and could well 'bottle it' under pressure. The romantic in me would like to see Columbia or Costa Rica take the title but I think the Germans have the experience that could see them sneak through and win it, even if they are playing poorly.

A bad Christmas for cats and cricketers

'An Englishman's home is his castle' is a creed that I was raised on, so I have long viewed a moat and drawbridge as some sort of aspirational ideal. Trudging up the garden path this week, ankle deep in muddy water, wisps of grass breaking through the surface as it wraps around the extremities of my humble semi was not quite what I had in mind. It is hard to recall that only 3 months ago the ground was so dry that the cracks in the lawn were large enough to allow even the most inept English spinner to turn a ball at right angles.

The last couple of weeks have been pretty surreal, even by my standards, and I am not just talking about the appalling weather and the capitulation of the Ashes in Australia. Anyone who has read any of my previous witterings will know that I am less than enthusiastic when it comes to Christmas festivities, life with my current employer is one eternal pantomime so any pretence of merriment has been bludgeoned out of the system long before the first tinkle of sleigh bells.

As someone who often has to force themselves from a perfectly good bed at unearthly hours I took the opportunity of a lie in on Christmas day and awoke naturally at a more respectable hour of 09:30. Hearing my aging limbs being cranked into action my wife bounded into the bedroom to inform me that she, and my stepdaughter had decided to get up early on Christmas morning to open their presents. They are both ‘night owls’ so I know that they will not have come to bed till late. They both also happen to be habitual late risers so for them to get up at 4 o'clock in the morning would require something fairly climactic. Certainly my gifts to them this year were not climactic and maybe I would have felt more empathetic had I been talking to a 5-8 year old, however both my wife and stepdaughter are graduates and I couldn't find it in my heart to break the news to them that there is no Santa Claus. It was the least I could do since they had allowed me to sleep through their nocturnal foray beneath the Christmas tree.

This year being one of the rare occasions when I have not been required to work I chose to use the break to visit friends who I hadn't seen for a while (as opposed to drawing up my imaginary drawbridge). If Christmas Day had been an inauspicious start then the past week became more surreal as it progressed. It would appear that one of my friends has turned her home into a menagerie, with cats and dogs of all shapes and sizes running wild. My wife and I had popped in to say hello and were unaware of the number of animals at the outset. As we sat, drinking coffee and catching up on events I kept seeing these cats flying across my eyeline. For a moment I though something suspicious may have been added to my coffee but soon I realised that it was my host scooping up these creatures from various work surfaces and 'hurling' them to safety. If it wasn't her shooing them away in one direction it was the cats themselves leaping from one surface to another in the opposite direction. I wasn't sure whether I was watching a troupe of Chinese acrobats or a bizarre variation on a dwarf throwing competition. The ease with which the cats were lifted and dispatched in one sweeping movement would suggest that an element of practice had been required though none of the cats seemed remotely phased by the ordeal. Personally it is not something I would want to do or recommend but clearly some of the cats viewed it as a challenge and would head back to the same spot as soon as their feet hit the ground.

The following day I was sitting in the lounge of our bemoated semi trying to come to terms with yet another England batting collapse when the cat that rules the house strutted into the room wearing a bright blue dog coat that would just about fit a Chihuahua, which is about a third the size of an average cat. From his expression it would have been hard for anyone to tell which of us was feeling the more distressed or disillusioned. My enquiries as to the origin of the coat prompted the scornful response that it was his Christmas present, to which I suggested that a set of water wings would have proved more useful. A suggestion that elicited further scorn on account that I had not bought a present for him. And why should I, he isn’t even our cat!

There is no way that I was ever going to win an argument over the cat, nor is there any chance that I will be buying him a matching lead and set of wellies. Fair to say the cat and I co-exist in a spirit of mutual disregard. While the rest of the family may choose to lavish him with affection and inappropriate gifts I keep careful tally of the number of lives he has used.

That he is even in our house is due to the fact that he made a habit of appearing in our midst at odd times having found a way of entering through the small window in our upstairs bathroom. When his owners who lived a few doors away decided to move and abandoned him he decided to move in with us despite my protestations. It is not that I have anything against toothless, old moggies who have clearly done battle with many of the other cats in the neighbourhood, and has the scars and a dickie ticker to prove it, but I don’t think it fair to keep any pet if you are not in a position to look after it properly.

England’s woeful performance was still hurting, time for a consolation mince pie and to remove the offending dog coat. The gummy grin suggested that my gesture was appreciated.

I had an aged aunt who used to stare at me with a toothless grin, didn’t like her much either, though to her credit she didn’t sneak in through the bathroom window unannounced.

During the week we played host to friends of the family who decided to celebrate New Year with us (A brave decision since my personal preference is not to celebrate this occasion, however the rest of the family were still in celebratory mood. The decision to extend this invitation also meant that the 'drawbridge' would be lowered to accommodate a 3 year old child). It is not that I dislike children but on the one occasion that I did go to see 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang' on stage I did find myself in the minority cheering on the Child Catcher a bit too enthusiastically.

People keep reminding me that children are our future, this may be true but I choose to think that it may explain why so many people prefer to reflect on the past.

Based on previous experience I would conclude that a 3 year-old is about my intellectual match – we can communicate (to a fashion) without getting in to the realms of awkward questions and generally spend most of the time giggling, even if neither of us know what for.

Perhaps it was a salutary lesson in how time has moved on through the decades. In my days I would probably have ripped all the Christmas wrapping paper to shreds, played with my toys for 5 minutes then spent the rest of the day using the discarded packaging to create my own imaginary world of cars, spacecraft, planes or whatever.

On this occasion, once the novelty of the toys wore off anything was fair game, including the decorations, the food and anything that moved, had a flashing light, made a noise or had a knob to twiddle.

The cat soon realised that not all affection was welcome and chose to make himself scarce whenever possible. After 4 days of torment I was even beginning to feel sorry for the old fella, it can’t be pleasant to be chased around the house by a 3 year-old intent on ‘feeding’ assorted nuts or small sweets into your every orifice.

I put my dislike of children down to the emotional trauma of countless birthday parties in my formative years. Anyone who has hosted a birthday party for a pre-pubescent child will know that it is the equivalent of opening your doors to a herd of stampeding wildebeest and ravenous termites at the same time. Even a 5 year old can work out that ‘Pass the Parcel’ is usually fixed, cut out the pretence of fair play, give the little blighter the prize and go get a life.

Being a shy, quiet child I couldn’t relate to this world of self-inflicted chaos. Stuff your face full of crisps, jelly, and cake, wash it down with lashings of fizzy drink then jump about playing party games until you all turn green from nausea. Should that not be sufficient then there is always 'the bumps' for the party host. In the ultra-safety conscious, politically correct climate they now pervades society it is a wonder it is not obligatory to provide on site paramedic cover.

I should remind you that I was part of the Bri-Nylon generation - 30 of us playing 'ring-a-ring a roses' could generate enough electricity to power 4 houses, 50 and there was a serious risk that one of us would do ourselves a mischief through spontaneous internal combustion.

 
Unless there was a game of football in the offing a glass of milk and being left to read a book would have suited me fine. Why did we always have to dress up for the occasion just so that we could get filthy dirty? If my parents didn’t want to give me ear-ache for getting muddy then they shouldn’t have dressed me in such ridiculous outfits – I wasn’t brought into this world  to be a tailor’s dummy. I have never felt the need to learn how many balloons I could shove up my jumper, how many cream crackers I could fit into my mouth in one go; I have never had a party trick and never indicated any desire to be the centre of attention.

By the time it came for our houseguests to leave England had managed to lose the 4^th Test and the cat had found a reverse gear that enabled him to back into a corner at speed whenever he heard the patter of tiny feet approaching.

England have since managed to lose the 5^th test in spectacular fashion, the water is still lapping around the extremities of the house, panto season has resumed at the office (Oh, yes it has!) and there is more bad weather forecast for the UK.

I am still none the wiser as to how professional cricketers can be selected to play at test level when they don’t even know where there stumps are. It was never a good idea to play 2 test series with only a 3 month break in between. Poor shot selection and a lack of technique has exposed weaknesses that have been evident for some time in the England team. Credit to the Australians for playing the better cricket throughout the series but let’s not get carried away there are very few players in world cricket today who would merit inclusion in an All Time Greatest XI for their country let alone a World XI. 

Trying to look on the bright side anything other than defeat in all 3 group matches by our footballers in this year’s World Cup can be viewed as a national triumph.

I am now contemplating how to pay for Christmas while the rest of the family look at spending more money on Summer holidays. I had been considering bringing my cricket boots out of retirement but then that would be taking surrealism to a new level.