Menzies' Mumblings: April 2006

Edgbaston

I say!

From the bowler's perspective, the off stump is the stump to the left (assuming the batsman is right-handed), and the leg stump is the stump to the right. The middle stump needs no explanation.

Here's a snap taken on a previous 'hush hush' tour, at the Edgbaston Cricket Ground, Birmingham, Warwickshire. We were seated down at third man.

Mrs M very much enjoys the next snap, taken in Lamu Town, on Lamu Island, from our hotel window. Can you spot the cat?

Finally, in celebration of Prince Harry's new found vocation, a snap taken in Lesotho, showing a rather pressing need for a new attitude towards recycling.

MM III

Leaving the ball

I say!

I read an excellent piece in a magazine today about cricket, written by Giles Coren. Giles knows his stuff! Here is what he wrote:

"In cricket, things should happen only occasionally. In my day, a batsman knew how to leave a ball. I used to travel the country to watch Chris Tavare bat all day without hearing once the irritating din of leather on willow"

Tavare was one of the best leavers of the ball. For those who don't understand the irony in the above extract, the point is that it is not necesary to actually play at a ball if its outside the off stump.

Here is a snap of 'The G' taken from the top of a skyscraper in Melbourne.

MM III

Hotboy and Cricket

I say!

I found this snap of Hotboy, at a cricket match of all places, in my collection, taken during a visit to Blighty some time ago.

What with my forthcoming, hush hush, 'world tour' to the Czech Republic, Holland, Scotland, an undisclosed location in the USA, and Shreveport, it will be so nice to meet up with Hotboy once more.

MM III

Witchdoctors

I say!

Here's a joke I heard the other day in Sir Harry's.

An aging fellow is having a few problems with his performance in the bedroom department, so he visits a witchdoctor who is known to be an expert in such matters.

The witchdoctor quickly understands what the problem is, and makes up a potion for his new patient. However, he warns the patient that it will only work once a year. Fair enough, the patient agrees.

The witchdoctor explains that what the patient must do is drink the potion, then say "123", and he will be able to perform for as long as he wishes.

"What happens when its all over?" the patient enquires.

The witchdoctor says "All you, or your partner has to say is "1234" and then things will go back to normal. But remember, it will then not work for another year."

So, the fellow goes home, and can hardly wait for the evening to arrive. When its time to go to bed, he and his wife go to the bedroom and get undressed, he drinks the potion, says "123" and as predicted, the potion starts to work.

His wife looks at him and says "What did you say "123" for?"

Haw haw!

I once went to see a witchdoctor. I hasten to add it was not for the same reason as the fellow in the story! In fact, the criminals had broken into our house (this was before we installed extra security and employed a watchman) and I thought the witchdoctor might be able to tell us something about how to get our stolen goods back.

The snaps below show the witchdoctor in question, on the 'gourd telephone' to the big witchdoctor in Mocambique, asking for advice. In front of him in the second snap is a handle from one of the stolen goods, and another gourd with some magic potion in it. Not shown is some earth I had collected, that the criminals had trodden on.

After he'd spoken to the big witchdoctor in Mocambique, he announced that our goods were 'on the move' and 'not too far' from where we were.

Well, to cut a long story short, I did, soon after, recover a small part of what had been stolen - I won't say how, but it was on the move and not far from the house. This eventually led to the arrest of one of the suspected criminals, who was put in jail pending a trial.

Unfortunately, however, the police forgot to lock the door of the cell that night, the suspect walked out and has not been seen again. Most of the other things stolen have not been recovered either.

MM III

Kalimbuka XI v Swedish invitation XI

I say!

I thought I'd better complete the set of snaps from the cricket match in Sweden, lest I forget.

The first one below shows Mrs M still hard at it as usual, clearing the pitch, whilst Menzies IV demonstrates the follow-through from a cover drive, and Henry Morton walks back to his spot.

The second one shows myself delivering a perfect googly to Dr Z, who, unfortunately, as is plain to see, could not seem to master the technique of playing with a straight bat. Henry Morton is well-positioned behind the stumps, with his balance slightly towards the on-side. Mrs Dr Z is fielding at mid-on.

Next, and nothing at all to do with cricket or Sweden, is Menzies IV being eaten by a plastic crocodile, somewhere near Pilanesberg.

Finally, Mrs M again. Does she never stop! Here she is hanging out the washing, Ouarzazate, Morocco.

MM III

Who wrote this?

I say,

For the literate amongst you, and without 'googling' it, can you say who wrote the following:

"I speak of Africa and golden joys."

Too easy?

I have been reading several books about the Happy Valley crowd, amongst whom my dear PawPaw used to mingle.

Here's a wonderful little quotation from one of them (The life and death of Lord Errol):

"The quality and colour of one's pajamas and dressing gown worn to dinner revealed one's social standing"

Of course, amongst the Happy Valley crowd it was de rigueur to wear a dressing gown to dinner. What the servants made of it all is no one's guess, but I expect that they regarded themselves as being invisible.

Not too much time for snaps today, but here's a few. The first one shows an unfortunate legacy of war - taken over in Mutare (previously Umtali), in Zim.