It’s hard to believe, but winter hasn’t officially started yet; not until 21st December. Walking along the frosty forest floor, ankle deep in light tan beech leaves that have left their twisted array of twigs and branches naked and vulnerable to the incoming storms, it’s hard to think that we aren’t already in the chilly bit that comes between Autumn and Spring. Friston Forest, where Callie and I get our different speeds of exercise on a regular basis, is a glorious rolling beech wood that stretches as far as the eye can see. The trees surround a large acreage of meadow (I suspect at least 100 acres, but I need Christopher Robin’s help in measuring it) that was previously used by a local racing stud for exercising the thoroughbreds. That is long since defunct and it has become a wonderful playground for a medley of wildlife and our four legged friends. Up until now. The Forestry Commission, which owns the land, has decided to fence in the whole pasture and hand it over to a local dairy farmer, whose cows will now desecrate the land with a surfeit of pats and the air with noxious, climate changing fumes. Is nothing safe?
I have a shocking confession to make. Prior to Covid unleashing its latest mutation on a tired world, I had never heard of Omicron. The closest I came to a classical education was very occasionally beating Mr Relle, our Classics master, at tiddlywinks. He was an England international, or so he claimed. Was he pulling our legs? I don’t recall ever seeing the results in the Telegraph sports section…..
To hide my embarrassment at such ignorance, I decided to invest in some new disposable face masks. The somewhat ‘wet behind the ears’ new assistant in Day Lewis, our local pharmacy, informed me that they were 50p each. “Do they come in packets” I inquired. Unsure, she consulted a senior colleague. Sure enough a box of fifty was produced from the inner sanctum. “Would you like a box?” says she. Thinking that £25 was rather more than I wanted to spend I politely asked “How much?”. Again she consulted the pharmacist. “That’ll be £7.99p please”. You could have knocked me down with a feather. What a bargain! 50p for one or 16p each if I bulk bought. Was it really a bargain, or the most outrageous, scandalous piece of profiteering you’ve ever heard of! Be ashamed Day Lewis, be very ashamed. I snapped her hand off for the box before she changed her mind.
Practically every expert not directly involved in selecting the England cricket team for the first Ashes test in Brisbane has been heavily critical of the decision to play Jack Leach, a left arm spinner, in favour of Stuart Broad one half of England’s most successful opening bowling partnership ever. His partner James Anderson’s fitness was in doubt so the management decided to hold him back for the second day/night test in Adelaide, where the lights and a pink ball would suit his talents to a tee. But Broad is fit, raring to go and has the sign of Zorro over at least three of Australia’s top order batsmen. The unfolding events appear to support these multifarious experts’ astonishment; but they don’t realise that Joe Root and Chris Silverwood (Captain and Manager respectively) have a Baldrick-esque cunning plan. Earlier in the year Broad was again mysteriously left out for the first match of the series. He was so incensed that he came back for the second test like a whirling dervish on steroids and helped to rout the opposition. Clearly the England management are just trying to lull Australia into a false sense of security by suffering a humiliating defeat before unleashing a rampant Broad. You can almost see the Aussie wimps cowering in the corner when the realise the brilliance of Baldrick’s plan. For the record, Leach went at over 8 runs an over in his eleven over spell. Over and out.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 