August 2009 Archives

Four potentially memorable events and three triumphs with one failure brought on by God and foul weather. That's pretty good, particularly given that two of the successes took place out of doors and were therefore susceptible to rain. For the most part, however, God was kind and the rain didn't fall. It did last Wednesday. In fact it was coming down so hard that it bounced back up as if we were in the tropics. If the doom-mongers are right that's where climate change is taking us anyway so this was just a taste of things to come.

Anyway the cricket match here in Fowey was rained off and we are going to try to reschedule it for later in the season. It's a bore in all sorts of ways not least because one of my star players was Tom Kendall's son, James, who played at Bradfield and Durham University and was obviously good. Quite by chance I sat next to Tom one day at Lord's. More of that later. Anyway, it bucketed down and we called it off. I phoned or e-mailed as many people as I could think of and went up to the pavilion and stuck up a couple of notices. The main bore in a way was the raffle which was good - a night at the Marina, a painting by Charles' wife, a package from Tim Smit including a family ticket for Eden, a signed book by Rick Stein, two by me (Denis Compton and Village Cricket). For Marie Curie we have some of the same but also a coupon from the Old Quay House, a terrific print of a lion from David Parry.  So fingers crossed for third time lucky and booze, BBQ, PA system and, of course the team. On the one hand the Cornish Crusaders and I definitely have James Turpin of this parish and Phil Johns, once a demon fast bowler for Cornwall and now of the HSBC. But watch this space...

The first of the triumphs was the presentation of my father's medals and other stuff to the Regimental Museum at the Keep in Dorchester. He had a CVO,DSO, MBE, and MC plus campaign medals, though typically one of the latter turned out to be missing. John and Lizzie Wilsey came, and John accepted the gongs. In public life they are General Sir John and Lady Wilsey which sounds amazingly grand. We also had Dick Hargreaves who is a sprightly ninety and had known my father in Greece in 1945 when he, Dick, was Brigade Major with the Paras and my father was 2 1/c of the 2^nd Battalion, Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry. After the war Dick became a Director of the Savoy Group and the two of them had lunch together in the hotel quite often. When I mentioned this to Kits Browning, he said that "everyone" was a Director of the Savoy Group and his father, who belonged to this club, used to walk across the park from Buckingham Palace or Clarence House and lunch at the Berkeley which was his particular favourite and also part of the group. Anyhow we all thought the Museum was terrific, the chaps in charge had been to a lot of trouble to make us feel welcome and well fed and watered, and generally speaking everyone, at least on the Heald side, left with a warm glow. It was a particular hit with the two small great-grandsons from Miami (and they with everyone else).  When the medals have been rehung and the missing CVO (mislaid in a motel on an American trip!) I will take my mother over on a quiet, private visit. She was pleased by what we reported when we all got back to the Malt House but felt too iffy about actually attending.

From this I went up to London in time for a party at the Australian High Commission on Tuesday evening. John Dauth, the High Commissioner, and Ricky Ponting both spoke (amusingly) and we chatted to both. As Penny says, Ricky will remember every word!! And so, on Thursday, to Lord's for the Test. The first day of an England versus Australia Test at Lord's is one of those stunning moments no matter what. I missed my brother James who would normally have been there but, alas, stabs of nostalgia such as this, are increasingly part of life. I thought of Denis Compton and Brian Johsnton, whose lives I write, and who were utterly linked to this place and felt sad but the present was wonderful too. I bumped into Charlie Collingwood and we stood for a while inside the Grace gates waiting for our wives while the world and his wife came past. There was Ronnie Harwood and David and Sylva Marchwood - Charlie and Sylva both opened the bowling for their respective Sherborne schools. Eventually Penny turned up and we somehow managed to find seats in the top of the Tavern Stand. Strauss and Cook had a big opening stand, the Australians bowled like drains but they bounced back and one of the things that helped make the match such fun was the result was in doubt until the final morning. They may not be the best sides in the world but they are competitive.

After that I went on every day and it all merges into an agreeable blur made even more pleasurable by the fact that  that England won after a fantastic final morning with Freddie Flintoff firing on all cylinders and the last five Australian wickets falling before lunch. In between there was much to savour. The Lord's Test is the prefect combination, as far as I'm concerned, of the social and the sporting. I was on my own on the Friday; with Penny on the Thursday and Saturday; with Alexander and Tristram on the Sunday and with Geoff Trew on the Monday morning. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. There was a lot wrong with the "organization!, unfortunately. At least one member I know went home and watched on TV because he couldn't find a viewpoint at the ground. Charlie Collingwood joined the queue at just after seven but his wife wasn't able to get in to the ground until after ten. There is much evidence of corporate greed, of overcrowding, of a general failure to understand the complicated often contrary equation of private club and public arena. Despite this it was a privilege to be there and I hugely enjoyed it.

And so, the following weekend to the final jolly of the trio, which was the wedding of Tristram, the youngest of my children and Beth, his long-term partner, at Hampton Court. There was no rain; bride and groom looked suitably radiant; all four children were present; ceremony went without hitch - even though the driver lost the bride and her father on the way -, speeches were exemplary; and we ended with a thoroughly satisfactory voyage to Richmond and back on the good ship Yarmouth Belle. The only snag was that as we docked at midnight Penny decided to make a speedy get away and was the only person standing as we docked. This manoeuvre was not executed the way Tosh does it on the Fowey Ferry and there was a significant clunk which sent Penny flying through the air and led via excellent and sympathetic medical students and paramedics, to an expensive taxi back into central London, and a visit to Dr. Cockshott. He said there was nothing broken but all the connective tissues were torn , there would be extensive bruising, a sling would be a good idea and Penny wouldn't be right for months rather than weeks. Since then there has been a lot of moaning and yelping.

By and large though we had a wonderful Test, a wonderful wedding and a wonderful medal ceremony. Pity about the charity cricket but three out of four represents a more than acceptable strike rate.

Today as I write this it is overcast, gray and rainy outside, I am transcribing Richard Cobb's letters to Hugh Trevor-Roper - time-consuming but necessary; fingers are crossed for the next charity match against the Cornish Crusaders on Sunday August 16^th in aid of Marie Curie.Next week I take the train to Wiltshire to see Mama, there are emails, Australia look as if they are going to make a draw of the match at Edgbaston, and life is almost back to normal. Flintoff is coming back on. It's the last gasp. 61 overs left. A china clay ship has just chugged in to harbour. I must phone Boxclever and hope there is someone there to answer the phone. Clarke is thirty two not out. The lead is ninety...What about Swan going over the wicket?