Sun, golf and cricket

With Sharon away at conference and the boys nearing the end of their extended holiday in Ireland, I had a great weekend of cricket and golf. With the hot, dry spell showing little sign of breaking, I took Friday afternoon off to play golf with Richie Brown, who'd driven up from Warrington in the morning. Richie is fairly new to the game but persevered around Broomieknowe in the blazing sun. I had an up and down round, 50 out and 40 back, with a couple of birdies on the back nine, finishing with three consecutive drives that were almost 300 yards through the hot air and along the baking fairways.

Then it was home for the "biathlon" - the second Ashes Test on the telly with the Open golf playing on the laptop alongside it! The kind of set-up you can only get away with when your wife's not home! Paul Last and Ian arrived later to stay over. We were up early on Saturday, breakfasted and then headed in the car to Drem to park for the Open. There was an efficient shuttle bus service to take us to Muirfield which was coming alive as the morning haar rolled away and the sun came out once more. £75 was a bit steep for the entry but we had a great day. We sat at the first green for a while then followed Garcia and Harrington for three holes. Next we sat in the stand at the 12th green, which some players were able to reach, down hill and down breeze. Jason Dufner had a torrid time in the bunker, taking three to get out. We moved up to the stands facing the 5th and 11th greens which afforded some shelter from the cool easterly breeze and a great view of the action.

Ian was finding it a bit hot so we moved on after a while, meandering back towards the first tee where the leaders were starting to head out. The circus arrived as Tiger Woods and Lee Westwood, the penultimate pairing, took to the first tee. We saw them hit and saw Tiger birdie the second, but the crowd was too deep for Ian or us to see much of the action so we headed back towards the 11th. Unable to get across, as there was no break in play, we settled by the 13th green, with a great view of the bunker and hole, and watched all the leaders come through. Schwartzel was unlucky not to hole a bunker shot that stopped on the lip. Finally we headed towards the big stands by the 18th until the close of play, Westwood finishing the round with a two shot lead over the field.

The return to the car park was predictably more arduous than our outbound journey, with a massive queue awaiting the buses. We waited about 40 minutes. It still was a far better, quicker and cheaper option than the train: people had to queue for a bus to Drem and then queue all round Drem, waiting a further hour for the train. After a 12-hour day, we'd earned our fish and chips (me) and kebab (Richie). Paul headed home with a very tired Ian.

On Sunday morning, Richie and I headed down to Innerleithen to play the nine-hole course there. It was delightful, with the sun breaking through and shining down on a scene that was like a mini-Rockies, the course snaking alongside a river, bisected by a B-road and dotted with pine trees. Richie almost took out a car with his first drive, the look of horror on the driver's face as the ball skipped off the tarmac and whizzed past the windscreen all too vivid. There were some great driving holes and only one quirky par three. I holed a 35-yard chip for a birdie in my six-over par 41. It was a thoroughly enjoyable nine holes.

We drove north, past a number of wild campers, to eventually join the A7, then headed for lunch at Kingsacre, resplendent in the sunshine. The leaders were teeing off at the Open, so, as Richie headed on to Paisley, I headed home to watch the golf. Unfortunately Lee Westwood didn't play well enough to break his major duck as Phil Mickelson surged home to win the Open for the first time.

On the cricket side, England pulverized a very weak Australia team by 347 runs to take a 2-0 lead in the Ashes for the first time since 1986/7. So, the Westwood disappointment aside, it was a perfect weekend of weather, sport and company. Now it's time for the family to re-unite!

2000th Test

I was part of a little bit of history on Sunday, as I attended the fourth day of the 2000th Test match, the first Test of the series between England and India which, if England win by two clear Tests, will see England replace India as the number one side in the Test rankings. I'd never been to a Test at Lords and decided to apply for tickets last December to take Sharon with me. I got the tickets, but we couldn't get the child cover to allow Sharon to come with me (as it happened, Adrian extended his stay and perhaps Sharon could have come) so I flew down myself to stay at the Barnes' house, with the intention of taking Gordon.

However, my luck (and Gordon's) was out. He'd hurt his back during the week, cycling to work and then aggravated it in the night getting up to their youngest, Innes. Hirpling about the kitchen next morning he grimly decided he couldn't face a day in a plastic bucket seat, no matter how much he had been looking forward to it. There were other factors which took the edge off the day. Pietersen made an unbeaten double century in the first innings: in the second innings he lasted three balls before gloving a snorter off Sharma. Ian Bell, one of the most fluent batsmen of recent times, lasted a ball more, caught behind for a duck. Earlier, both Cook, in the middle of a phenomenal run of scoring and captain Strauss had departed for low scores and the obdurate Trott was also prised out by a Sharma delivery cutting back up the famous Lords' slope. So, at 62 for 5, despite their 188 first innings lead, things weren't going to plan. Eoin Morgan departed to a tame, mis-hit pull after lunch but then Matt Prior and Stuart Broad set things right with an unbeaten seventh wicket partnership of 162. Prior advanced to a fine century before England declared on 269, leaving India 458 to win. Another disappointment was the non-appearance of the legendary Sachin Tendulkar in the field. He was suffering from a virus although, after his 34 in the first innings, there was still a chance of seeing him embark on what would be his 100th international hundred, if he managed that unique landmark. He didn't appear to bat though, and I left at 6.15 with India at 33 for 1, Stuart Broad having flattened Mukund's stumps.

My seat was in the Lower Edrich Stand, in the second-back row. There was no wall behind me and it was decidedly draughty in the shade despite the fiercely warm day beyond. The view of the action, from mid-off, was good and I was glad I'd brought my binoculars as I got close-up views of all the England wickets to fall. Annoyingly though, I was too far back to see out from under the Upper Edrich Stand to the tv screen and scoreboard on the other side of the ground. There was a good Indian support in though and the atmosphere was livelier than I expected: some say Lords can be quite stuffy and muted. And I had my packed lunch on the packed practice ground at the Nursery End behind the new space-age media suite. All in all it was a good day, just a shame Gordon couldn't make it. Former England captain and Sky Sports pundit Bob Willis was even in my carriage in the train in from Mortlake! I followed him at Waterloo to the Underground, guessing he'd know where he was going!

(As it transpired, England won the Test the next day, deep into the final session before they ousted the final batsman in front of a record last day crowd for Lords.)

Boxing Day delight

With the cricket on in Australia I generally watch the start of play before going to bed. Stay up too late and I pay the price if Rowan "I had a bad dream / there's a monster in my room / I've done a wee / I want my cereal" Wallace decides to have an early start. However, I then have a twenty hour delay between seeing the live action and watching the evening highlights, a period in which I have to avoid hearing the score on TV, radio or in conversation, a feat I generally manage quite well without going to the lengths in a famous episode of the Likely Lads.

As Sharon seemed unusually keen to sit and watch the Boxing Day highlights with me, I suspected something was up. I doesn't get much better than Australia being rolled over for 98 all out and England finishing the day on 157 for no loss. As good a Christmas present as I could hope for!

Sleeping over

Rowan is still too young to go on a sleepover. His compromise on Sunday night was to be allowed to move his mattress into Sean and Finn's room so he could share with them. He is desperate to be a big boy like his brothers. Sean and Finn were surprisingly amenable to Rowan sleeping in with them, especially Finn who usually complains that Rowan talks too much. Looking back to April, I've no idea how they managed to share a bed in Mallorca for a fortnight.

Angus has been moved back down to the spare room after spending the summer upstairs with Rowan. Angus has been waking regularly before 7am and once Rowan is disturbed, the whole house is disturbed, so for all our sakes it's probably best that Angus moves back downstairs until he's ready for a bed. He seems to have had a run of colds and terrible nappies for the last month, ever since he got his MMR jab. He was the only boy not to have his hair cut at the weekend.

I took Sean and Finn swimming at Dalmahoy on Sunday, a free swim courtesy of British Gas, while Sharon took the wee two to Loanhead. Angus was apparently indefatigable in his pursuit of freedom, drinking half the pool in the process. Sharon, who is still battling the jet lag, also took the boys out for an evening stroll up past Swanston Village yesterday.

My exercise at the weekend was a long walk across Morton Mains to Broomhills and back along Frogston Rd. I needed it to shake off the effects of the cricket club dinner on Friday night. A curry in Lancers and a cider or two in the Baillie and the Standard were enough for me as I knew that, getting home at 1am, I wasn't in with a chance of a long lie on the Saturday. It was a good night, with the visiting Matthew Dickens in typically wicked form.

Season of mists

O season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Keats' Ode to Autumn was a poem I had to critique at school and its imagery has always stayed with me. I recall being inspired to write a similar epistle to the turning of the seasons entitled "Dark September" which I need to look out. That was in 1986, after contemplating the onset of dusk in our dining room at home. There always seems to be a point around this time
of year where you become aware of a change in the light. Maybe the angle of the sun gives a bluer, purer, slightly less hazy light as it cuts through the atmosphere. Maybe the light fades quicker than you've been used to. For me, the point tends to be the end of the evening cricket season in mid to late August, when dusk is sudden and the ball becomes near impossible to pick out of the trees and hedges and even across the grass soon after 8pm.

This year there is no closing Sunday friendly up at Largo, which is a shame, as I always like to mark the end of the season up there (it gives me a chance to get a bat and, given my unprecedented two golden ducks this season, I could badly do with that) and reflect with a quiet moment looking out to the Firth of Forth after a post-match drink in the Railway Tavern. This season ended in defeat at Double Hedges, though we can't complain, having won two out of three trophies and lost in the final of the other.

There were a few mornings this week where the Pentlands were shrouded in mist in the morning and the dew on the grass was noticeably heavier than it had been. I've not managed a round of golf so far this year, but these would have been fine days to have been playing, the sun burning off the mist and a balmy September breeze idly fluttering the flags.

The boys are all back at school and well settled into their routines of ignoring us in the morning when they should be getting dressed, complaining when asked to do their homework, losing a percentage of items that they left with in the morning and generally being hard work. Sharon and I are vowing to try and set the tone by being positive but it ain't easy. The more things change, the more things stay the same!

Go away for the day

The school summer holidays are almost over and, apart from my long weekend in Ireland to catch the tail end of the family holiday at the start of the hols, I didn't take any time off until last week. Not that the weather has been particularly enticing during July and the early part of August.

After a good start to the summer, my cricket schedule was rather impacted by a rainy July. It didn't stop us lifting the Parks Trophy for the fifth time though! We'll gloss over the Terry Newcombe Trophy Final defeat, but at least we got to the final in that one too. I'm the only SLCC player to have played in all five Parks' finals and, as a non-League cricketer, I'm justly proud of my contribution, even though I'm fast descending into veteran category. I was pleased with my 4 overs for 17 in the final. The pressure was off a little but I still had to deliver for us to close out the win.

Sharon is going to Bracknell for a couple of days so I'm taking the opportunity to have a mini holiday-from-home with the boys, along the lines of the holidays we had when I was a child. From '72 to '78 inclusive we never had a holiday of any duration. We just used to "go away for the day," which typically meant a bus down to Paisley Gilmour St. station and then a train to somewhere on the Clyde coast. Largs was our preferred destination and usually featured twice in my Dad's fortnight off work for Paisley fair, at that start of July. It would also be the destination for other bank holidays, notably the September weekend, when we might even experience the thrill of returning after dark!

In August we'd also go to Ayr, Troon, Prestwick, Gourock and sometimes across to Dunoon on the ferry, which was quite an exciting trip. Curiously we never went to Millport, or Rothesay, though I would avidly study ferry times for these exotic destinations in the hope that some day we would be able to afford to strike out to island shores (I believe my only trip to date to the Isle of Bute was at the age of four months. I have no memory of it.) Similarly, Stevenston, Saltcoats, Ardrossan and West Kilbride were only ever experienced through the smeared panes of the hourly trains which transported us to and from the coast. Lesley and I used to compete to be the first to see the sea just after Stevenston. The "Nae Tick" graffito which adorned the faceless clock at the run-down Fairlie station used to elicit a chuckle from my parents but was lost on me. By then I was anticipating the climax of the train journey: a lumbering, clanking, shrieking passage through the tunnel which culminated with a re-emergence into daylight and a brief view of the Pencil and Great Cumbrae beyond as we made our final approach to Largs station.

In 1978 we had the luxury of Aunt May's car on loan which enabled us to visit multiple destinations in one day (gasp!), take alternative, non-rail, routes to the seaside (thrill!), discover places north of the River Clyde (shock!). We drove to Luss and Arrochar. I had never seen a mountain that close up before. We also broke the mould in 1976, going through to Edinburgh for the day, which was such an event I had to dress up in my Bushes Primary School blazer. We finally did get to Millport in 1979 and exceeded my wildest expectations by looking at a couple of places and booking a holiday for the August fortnight at a place called Tivvendale off Ferry Road. Having never spent a night outside my own house since we stayed in a house in Nelson St in Largs in 1971 (Sharon finds this nigh on impossible to believe, given her experience of staying with relatives and going on holidays), it was a very big event to be packing a case and sending my bike over to Millport by carrier for what felt like my first ever holiday.

Sean, Finn, Rowan and Angus: you don't know how lucky you are!

Deja vu

Sharon's flight has been cancelled so I'm holding the fort until she returns, hopefully on Wednesday. This puts me in a spot of bother as I was due to return to work yesterday so the logistics of ad-hoc childcare beckon.

I've never been a fan of RyanAir's service and having to deal with them through this kind of disruption makes it even more clear what using a low-cost airline really means. Anything other than a completely smooth process and you're going to incur fees. Fees for trying to get through to them at the call centre; fees for receiving text messages should they deign to update you of your travel circumstances; fess to check in online and even bigger fees if you don't check in online and print your boarding pass (on A4 paper).

All the hassle of sorting this out rather detracted from my enjoyment of England stuffing the Aussies by seven wickets last night to win the World 20-20 Trophy. Remarkably, they were the best team and deserved to win their first world ICC event. Could they carry that confident approach into next winter's Ashes down under? It would be great if they could!

Seasonal change

My cricket season came to a belated end with the annual trip up to Largo later than usual this year, on the second Sunday of the month. We had a facile victory over a team of old heads and youngsters but it was good to get a bat and a bowl after a long break since our previous fixture. It was a mixed season, with no success in the main cup competitions and a struggle to get teams out in friendlies. Eventually we ended up ahead with more wins than losses but the lack of enthusiasm from career staff coupled with my increasing commitments at work and home may cast doubts over whether we can get a team organised next season. It has become a bit of a chore and my creaking limbs have meant the playing side hasn't been all that enjoyable either. I only ended up with five wickets this year, a record low. Still, it was good to have the post-match banter with Goof and a couple of the guys in the Railway Inn in Lower Largo and then mark the passing of another season (my 22nd for Standard!) by going down to the waters edge and looking across to the Lothians.

Sean has starting going to the Beavers along at St. John's church next to the library in Oxgangs. Ross is going too. For now it's just an extension of arts and crafts and running about games as far as Sean is concerned so he seems quite happy to go along with it. Sean and Finn went for a sleepover to Ross's house and had a fine time. They're both back at swimming too, which is a bit of a handful for Sharon; trying to mind Angus and keeping Rowan from ending up in the pool. At the school's curriculum night, Mrs. Henry, Finn's teacher, said he had settled well and had very good scores in his initial assessments. Sharon was less impressed with Mrs. Urquhart, Sean's teacher, but we suspect that she is mixing him up with someone else at the moment. Sean had apparently made himself a name badge as he was getting annoyed at being called "James."

Michael (or "Paps" as Rowan has been calling him), was over as I was due to go to London for a Gartner conference. I had to cancel that for work reasons but ended up going to London for another piece of work the day after Michael went home! I got the train back up which was novel and surprisingly quick. 4h 20m from Kings Cross; a good bit quicker than whenever I last did that journey, probably 20 years ago. Considering how long it takes to get out to Heathrow, go through security and fly, the train is a reasonable alternative.

When we were waiting for Sharon's flight to arrive I took the boys to Craigie Fruit Farm for big bits of cake and a play on the tractors. Rowan was throwing himself down the hill in his tractor with his usual lack of concern for all and sundry, including himself. It's only a matter of time before he breaks something.

Rising from the Ashes

I belatedly began my paternity leave as Michael and Adrian flew back to Ireland, so that Sharon has a hand with the boys during the early part of the school holidays. Sean and Finn thoroughly enjoyed an Aquavator swim class at Gracemount last week, getting the chance to swim with flipper and snorkels, play on inflatables and generally have a good time in the water. They had both refused point blank to do a SwimEasy camp.

The Ashes have started. I'm fed up watching the re-runs on Sky of the epic 2005 series (which completely glosses over the fact that England were thrashed 5-0 in Australia less than 18 months later) and it was good to have some fresh battles. This is a very inexperienced Aussie team who, despite their defeat of South Africa in SA and their number one ranking, don't inspire the fear (or dislike) of the previous bunch of world-beaters but England faltered after a promising start in the First Test, and it looked like business as usual as they had to try and bat out the fifth day to save the game. Against the odds, however, the last pair batted out the final hour to clinch a very nervy draw which the previous Aussie team wuold never have let happen. At least, after four days of fairly nondescript Ashes cricket, it meant the series sprung into life. My own cricket season hasn't been much to write about. It's been a real struggle to get teams out with no-one keen on doing any organisation. And the return of torrential showers hasn't helped.

I did manage a game of golf with Ian Patterson, although the quality was poor as we thrashed our way around Baberton, my putting especially erratic. Ian and I took Sean, Finn and Ross up to Briarlands Farm on the road to Callendar. After all the heavy rain, the maize maze was rather mucky, with clay soil sticking to everyone's shoes as we tried to find things amongst the maize. Sean and Ross seemed to enjoy it but it was a bit of a slog for Finn. There were big inflatable "pillows" for bouncing on, haystacks for climbing on and chasing around and a lot of space for running around in. Finn was at his usual nagging of Ross on the way home. Finn has a tendency to misbehave towards his and his brothers' friends which is in complete contrast to Sean whose extremely sociable behaviour is one of his merits. Perhaps that's why Finn is, or appears to be, so different, but he'll have to realise that people won't want to play with someone who is always getting in sly cuffs, flicks and bumps or saying things to annoy them.

The last couple of days have been a flurry of tidying and packing as we prepare to house-swap with Sharon's Uncle Pat and Aunt Margaret. Sharon left early yesterday morning with Angus to drive down to Birmingham, picking up Marie from Birmingham Airport to do the international babysitting duties while Sharon attends conference sessions. The latest reports are that Angus is barely to be found as he keeps getting stolen away by lots of different PC ladies all wanting a cuddle. No doubt he's loving the attention!

My Senior Director

Sean returned from his caravan holiday with the Patersons on Monday. He had a great time at St. Andrews and was in tears when he came home because he hadn't wanted to leave the caravan park. Sean and Finn spoke on the phone for the first time, as did Sean and Rowan, although Sean refused to believe it was Rowan and was sure Finn was playing a trick on him. Another first was the postcard we received yesterday from Sean, which owed a fair bit to Royal Mail's ability to decipher and deliver but he did have the address and postcode and stamp present, just maybe not where you'd expect.

Finn and Rowan's behaviour was variable in the absence of their mentor, plumbing the depths on Monday as they gave Sharon a really hard time. I took Finn to the driving range for the first time on Saturday afternoon and he swung the club well, scuttling his first shot 15 yards and connecting with his second which went about 35 yards. That was his record for the day, which he matched later on. I'll see if I can get him and Sean competing before Rowan comes along and trumps them both! Finn and I also found a lovely open park in Newtongrange with lovely flower beds, trees for hiding in and a playpark, but Finn was a bit lost without the company of his brothers.

My cricket season should have begun this evening but lack of numbers forced the cancellation of our first planned friendly. Given the wet wipe-out to the end of last season and my probably being sidelined once WW4 arrives, it's galling that people can't make more of an effort to play.

Finally, many congratulations to my long-suffering and hard-working wife who has been confirmed as a Senior Director, with six qualified directors beneath her in her ever-growing team. She works so hard at her business while still giving her time (thanklessly for the most part) to the boys and me, that she deserves every success that comes her way. It's almost ten years to the day that we started going out and I could not have hoped for a better partner with which to create a home and family and to spend the rest of my days with. Well done Sharon! There's no point in telling you to take it easy so have that baby and get on with the next task! Maybe some day we'll sit down and catch up with the various series we've recorded on V+.

Ups and downs for Ferguslie

My glass half-empty philosophy robbed me of enjoying a famous Ferguslie victory in the Scottish Cup Final on Sunday. I had intended going to see them play Penicuik through in Uddingston but by the time Sharon arrived home, I had finished cutting the long, long grass (first time in a wet five weeks) and made lunch, the game was already two hours old. As I was checking for directions I noticed Ferguslie were 68 for 6 and given that they have been relegated from the Premier League this season on the strength, or lack thereof, of their batting, I decided that a lazy afternoon with Sharon and the boys was more in order traipsing through to watch the tail-end of a hiding.

O ye of little faith! Ferguslie mustered a total of 163 all out off their 50 overs but Penicuik seemed to be cruising to victory at 77 for 2 in the 19th over. Cue a collapse of Ferguslian proportions and eventual victory to the Meikelriggs men by 26 runs. Second Cup win in four years. They'll have to use that as a springboard for promotion next season. Shame I missed it but it was nice to do some family stuff like chatting to Sean and Finn in the bedroom and going for a big shop together. Sometimes with us working round each other we only seem to collide at mealtimes and bedtimes and we have to make the most of the time we can all be together.

Dark side of the moors

I'm just back from what was, remarkably, a winning cricket tour to Yorkshire for SLAC CC. We had one easy win near Harrogate on a pitch that resembled a ploughed field (it had only been cut the day before after three weeks of rain), one hiding against a fine side at the picturesque Masham ground by the Theakston's brewery (Masham generously made a match of it but were always in control) and then a one-run victory as the climax! Spex Murdoch pulled out a triple-wicket maiden in the last over of the match versus a young Thirsk XI!

Harrogate was lively enough, especially Wetherspoons and Bar Med but the clubs aren't worth the money. The Majestic Hotel certainly lived up to its name however! Thanks to Colin Arnot for striking us a great deal to stay there. But why did Ian end up rolling along (and off) a snooker table late one evening? And why did the thought of Australian team mate Bryan Tope dressed in a shabby tiger outfit reduce him to floods of hysterical tears? The stupidity of cricket tour banter should never be underestimated!