‘The wheat field has …poetry; it is like a memory of something one has once seen. We can only make our pictures speak.’ Vincent Van Gogh
“For me, a T-shirt, a pair of shorts, barefoot on a beach and I’m happy.”
We had a little Road Trip down to Dorset and Somerset a couple of weekends ago. The weather was rubbish so we went inland to the city of Bath.
A true high point for me was the Royal Crescent.
This is one of Bath’s most iconic landmarks, was built between 1767 and 1775 and designed by John Wood the Younger. This impressive landmark is arranged around a perfect lawn overlooking Royal Victoria Park and forms a sweeping crescent of 30 Grade I Listed terrace houses.
It is iconically Georgian. I wanted to look behind that sweeping bank of closed doors. Have a wander. Stay a night. Play at being mega rich.
Oh! There was also a cricket pitch…
We didn’t do the Roman Baths- the obvious Bath attraction. Still in COVID times pre- booking online is the way to go- obviously 🤦🏽♀️.
“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.”
– Paul Theroux
‘Boxing Day field sports are traditional in rural Sussex, as elsewhere and as often or not a meet of the hunt or a pheasant shoot would provide some incident which becomes in the retelling a story to be enjoyed in the tap-room of some out of the way village pub years after.’
“You don’t win or lose the games because of 11 you select. You win or lose with what those 11 do on the field.”
A key part of cricket is the pavilion- the main building in which the players usually change and the main location for watching the cricket match for members and others.
It’s also the epitome of Englishness- the place where the ‘cricket teas’ are served. Pots of tea, sandwiches, sausage rolls, scones, cream and jam and of course cake. Summertime personified.
The 2020 cricket season is now over, for what it was worth this year, in England. Let’s hope village cricket has a better ‘run’ in 2021.
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
Winter afternoon treat at the Grand Hotel Eastbourne today. The epitome of old Englishness and luxury, I never tire of this fabulous hotel. Was interested to see whose shoes I followed into that beautiful building. Apparently Claude Debussy, Ernest Shackleton, Charlie Chaplin, Dame Helen Mirren, John Hurt and Bros have all preceded me:
“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.”
― Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady
I think the best place to work in football is England.
(José MourinhoPortuguese football manager)
And here are grounds from my football journey around England this year.
From Premier League (Southampton, Brighton and Leicester City) to the Isthmian League Division One South (Lewes) down to East Midlands Counties League (Barrow Town) football unites our country and our sense of national identity.