I have just walked past an old record shop (one that sells old records) called The Vinyl Frontier, that I’ve passed hundreds of times before without realising what an enterprising title it is. There was no sign of Captain Kirk or Mr Spock but they were probably in another galaxy, boldly going where no man/one/woman/transgender/genetically modified/LGBT/non-denominational has gone before. It does amaze and stupefy me sometimes how depressingly unobservant and thick I can be.
I have also just been going through a list of twenty two MCC Members who have put themselves forward for election by the 18,000 or so Members to fill three places on the new NomCo or Nominations Committee who will be responsible for selecting Members to serve on the main Club Committees. They have all written personal statements and recorded short videos explaining why they should be the one. It makes me feel very humble when you learn the extraordinary stories of so many of these volunteers. I used to think I had done quite a lot in life! It’s a hard choice selecting from the Generals, Q.C.’s, CEO’s, senior sports administrators and other high flying individuals. There is only one woman (if that’s an acceptable description?) on the list, so it will be interesting to see if she attracts a winning poll. She would seem to be well qualified.
At a much more mundane level you’ll be relieved to know that the Red Brick Road has been satisfactorily completed without any major damage to fruit tree roots and to the genuinely enthusiastic approval of Mrs T, which is the most important thing. There is the odd unevenness, which bears testament to the underlying problem, but it’s not enough to hamper smooth passage and in fact it’s a lot more even than most of Eastbourne’s pavements which have become reminiscent of a corrugated roof (wriggly tin as we called it in the Army), thanks to the spectacular avenues of Plane and other trees that line so many of the Town’s elegant boulevards. The new path has yet to pass the important test of bearing the weight of the John Deere without cracking or crumbling but I’m reasonably confident all will be well. The jungle that we inherited three years ago is not yet a rival to Kew Gardens but it is certainly now a very pleasant place to while away the long hours of sunshine that we will undoubtedly enjoy this summer…….
Talking of amazing men (retracing my steps somewhat), I’ve just read that Christopher Lee has died; not the actor but the BBC’s one-time Defence Correspondent. I got to know him well in the mid 80’s when I produced a defence magazine programme for BFBS wittily called Sitrep. (Military parlance for Situation Report). Chris was scarily bright with an extraordinary intellect for one who was expelled from school at 16, (seemingly a burnt down pavilion was involved) and ran away to sea. I always felt intimidated in his presence, but nonetheless greatly enjoyed his company. I was very much in the “makey learney” stage of my new career and learnt a huge amount from him and the late Peter Hobday, another BBC Presenter (Today and Newsnight amongst many programmes), who was always most generous with his time and advice. We enjoyed many good lunches together! Looking back on it, I was so green, I wonder what they must have really thought of me! Christopher’s obituary takes up a full page in The Times Register of 5th March and reveals a fascinating career and an extraordinary life well lived. He’s perhaps best known for a history series he wrote for BBC Radio called “This Sceptred Isle” (or This Sceptic isle as he liked to call it), but perhaps most remarkably of all he was invited by Emmanuel College, Cambridge to become its first quarter-centenary Fellow in contemporary history, a role he described as “earthly heaven”. Whilst there he played jazz trumpet and wrote scripts for The Archers. He was also an avid sailor, a Captain in the Royal Naval Reserve and a devoted cricket fan. His parents christened him Christopher Robin; they loved A.A. Milne. I wish I’d known that, it would’ve been fun teasing him.
I now feel even more humble.
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