Day 30 - Mon 13th Apr - The Cricket Episode

Dion Dublins joystick, origin of chowon and some blocked drains…

Who’d have thought this journal would make it to thirty days old, not I. It’s been a cold cloudy spring day today after the blazing sunshine of the last couple of days it felt a little disappointing. More forcing myself to go on walks than actually enjoying the fresh air and sunshine like previous outings. Increased the daily press-up routine to twenty three times a day with the plan being to get to seventy five at some point, this feels like folly but every great journey begins with a single push-up, or something like that.

Caught up with “Homes under the Hammer” fronted by the affable Dion Dublin, a much under rated footballer and allegedly owner of an enormous c@ck, when he would get out of the shower his team mates would simply applaud. The show follows a very, very similar pattern and if you’ve seen it once well you’ve pretty much seen every episode. Which reminds of a great Shane Warne quote when discussing the English spin bowler Monty Panesar, “He hasn’t played forty two tests, he’s played one test forty two times,” which leads into being…

Really disappointed that our cricket season is cancelled, a game that has always been close to my heart and stirs memories from childhood. There was very little equipment available as we smashed it around the local park, the wicket keeping gloves were three pairs of standard woollen gloves forced onto each hand with circulation past your wrists very much in the “nice to have” bracket. This was until one fine day my dad, after some hunting around local second hand stores appeared at the park with a pair of battered keepers gloves – this was a game changer and dramatically reduced the number of black finger nails, dislocated fingers and blue hands.

We grew up and playing at the park was replaced with alcopops and dancing horrendously in clubs as the early nineties slowly progressed to the late nineties, and so my playing career appeared to have peeked with a 35 (not out) against a younger brothers select VI. And so for twenty years this most unorthodox of keeper/batsmen’s talent remained dormant, much like Fred West’s entombed victims, then from a chance encounter cricket was back on the agenda in the form of a charity match and thus it came to pass the “The Strokemen” were born – yes it is a subtle nod to masturbation but it’s disappointing that your mind went there first.

Will this journal ever be published either online or in print, it feels like a series of blogs stitched together so I’m considering releasing online…..wonder what the crack is with using images from the interweb as to be honest this stream of brain consciousness transformed into scribe isn’t half as good without my sub-standard pictorial creations. Not in any way actually saying this is a good read by the way - but it is very cathartic.

Social cricket fun..

We are the “Strokemen” and a finer set of funny chaps you couldn’t wish to meet on a cricket field. The team is pretty shit (and I include oneself in that bracket) but we play the game in the spirit it was intended. If that spirit was taking absolutely nothing seriously and the main intent is to sledge your own players. It took us two years to win a match, but when we did we absolutely destroyed Felling ladies. Let’s face it social cricket its f@cking ace! My role as the decrepit wicket keeper – well, more of a wall than a catcher – and master blaster batsman in the middle order is key to the whole ethos of the team (Dave lied to himself a lot!). Through this late introduction to the sport there have been some amazing friendships built, fun times had, cricket boxes shared and testicles smashed by fast bowlers. Everybody should try playing a team sport during their lives, it’s not always the game that’s important, it’s the camaraderie in dressing room and it’s this facet which will be missed most. We were also hoping to get another game lined up with Felling Ladies to improve the teams win percentage. Ho-hum onwards and upwards.

Saville update – all holding steady at 600+ deaths per day. It is peculiar how quickly you can become de-sensitised to the daily death number and it’s important to remind yourself that they aren’t just statistics but are real people with real families, real problems and real lives.

The afternoon was spent trying to get a plumber to one of my houses to unblock the drains, what a **chowon that was and the end result was booking in a drainage specialist. A few more phone calls later and hopefully the shit will be shifted or whatever’s blocking it. Landlord, geek, father, cricketer (yeah right) and author (ok that’s stretching it) having fulfilled a number of roles during my time on this rock makes me believe that the ability to adapt is one of my strengths. To underline this point, there was also a short stint as a shepherd, not a role in which I excelled but the nativity script was shocking and there was little chemistry between the cast members at the school.

**chowon – Verb – Meaning hassle. Origin after the Chinese civil war general Chow Chih who later became a federal judge. He was renowned as a disciplinarian who famously made one of his soldiers eat his own boot after falling behind on a march. Example – My wheels broke down on the motorway and the accident recovery had lapsed (see cancelled) so it was a right f@cking chowon.

Afternoon went for a wander and caught up on the Peter Crouch podcast (Dave Apocalypse rating 8.5 flip flops

out of 10, always loved the word flip flop).

The natural inclination of my mind forces a natural order of preference, has favourites and least favourites around inanimate objects. For example the word boing is fabulous but the word juxtapose can suck on my helmet. In the kitchen there is a favourite ring on the hob (front left nice medium flame in case you’re asking) and a ring which is loathed (back left inconsistent and awkward to use). Do most people have the same mental cacophony of noise spiralling around in the cerebral sub consciousness? Christ that was a pretentious sentence, getting all Will Self there – a man so far up is own arse he can touch his rib cage with his head, even more pretentious than this dolphin.

The evening’s entertainment was complete when the durg threw up all over the floor just as we were heading off to snooze – it wasn’t too liquidity but was a like a long snake made of sawdust, so either he’s taken up carpentry on the side or if he’s just been eating horse shit again. Tomorrow we have the added excitement of the shit drain being unblocked! On reflection today seems to have been a day with more than its fair share of bodily fluid related problems…Attendons de voir de quoi demain sera fait!

#Pandemic #TheStrokemen #BodilyFluidProblems #DaveApocalypse