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Cakes & Bails
Hallaton entertained Harborough Taverners yesterday. The home team won by ten wickets on what is without doubt one of the most beautifully situated grounds in Leicestershire. At the top end of the village, the surrounding fields and woods fall away to the north and east; Horninghold church spire catching the fluctuating light every few minutes amongst the dark trees, the cloud shadows scudding quickly over Fearn Hill and crowning hilltop spinneys. Is there a more perfect way to while away a Sunday afternoon? I was, of course, found staring meaningfully at the rusty roller and motioned towards the pavilion. There was a tea laid out the like of which I have never seen before. A plate was piled up for me with cakes, topped out with three meringues. I ran off with it to a remote part of the outfield. So you can see I absorbed all the finer points of the match. But I have to say I much prefer this bucolic scene complete with correct cricket whites, rather than those disgraceful exhibitions of vile coloured sponsored lycra that appears to be the way it's going in the professional game. Bring back Len Hutton I say.
Hallaton entertained Harborough Taverners yesterday. The home team won by ten wickets on what is without doubt one of the most beautifully situated grounds in Leicestershire. At the top end of the village, the surrounding fields and woods fall away to the north and east; Horninghold church spire catching the fluctuating light every few minutes amongst the dark trees, the cloud shadows scudding quickly over Fearn Hill and crowning hilltop spinneys. Is there a more perfect way to while away a Sunday afternoon? I was, of course, found staring meaningfully at the rusty roller and motioned towards the pavilion. There was a tea laid out the like of which I have never seen before. A plate was piled up for me with cakes, topped out with three meringues. I ran off with it to a remote part of the outfield. So you can see I absorbed all the finer points of the match. But I have to say I much prefer this bucolic scene complete with correct cricket whites, rather than those disgraceful exhibitions of vile coloured sponsored lycra that appears to be the way it's going in the professional game. Bring back Len Hutton I say. 
7 comments:
Wonderfully evocative photograph. I heard via the estimable Dr Mal that cricket was the only sport that 'Sport England' (yet another faceless taxpayer-funded quango) doesn't give any of the nation's lottery money to because it is seen as too elitist. Just typical. There, I've gone off on one again. Apologies.
Absolutely - the first photo is fantastic.
yes yes - this is all very well - BUT - as I write it's Tuesday and I can't find the bloody FtF post.I've been up since 05.30 hrs with my nose stuck to the screen and an auto "refresh" set for 30 seconds.It's just not cricket.
Couldn't agree more about the modern trend of playing in psychodelic pyjamas with variously hued balls. Thank God Test Matches still have the correct look to them. The trouble is, village games aside, cricket is no longer the charmingly amateur (in the best sense) sport it once was - Professional with a capital P, I'm afraid, and with an eye to television criteria and marketing opportunities.
Thank you for marvelous images that remind us what the noble game should look like.
Hear, hear. I like the head-scratching fieldsmen in the upper picture. Good to see that lots of thought still goes into the village game.
Is that a Hawke I see hovering over the boundary?
Almost certainly Jon, it being Hallaton an' all.
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