Busk-a-Long-a-Billy

As London recovered from yesterday's Royal Wedding, Billy Bragg invited those still standing who could sing or strum to bring along their voices and guitars and join him for a Big Busk outside the Royal Festival Hall.  Aided by huge chord cards and encouraged by warm sunshine, plenty of shiny happy people, many armed with guitars and some with more exotic instruments, turned up, tuned in and busked along.  Generally, a great time seemed to be had by all.  Although perhaps those people stood next to me didn't necessarily appreciate the enthusiasm with which I responded to Mr Bragg's reassurance that playing wrong notes or singing off key was practically requisite when busking.  It might be that he meant the occasional shift off key was to be forgiven, rather than occasionally - or may be not even that frequently - hitting the right note by accident?  Eric Morecombe's piano playing was a positive aural delight compared to my singing.  Apologies all round.

A Simple Plan Works (Temporarily)

After weeks of deprivation, cricket returned to London today.  Moreover, it was the London derby: Middlesex against Surrey at The Home of Cricket.  I was so excited as I made my way to St John's Wood and entered Lord's.  Surrey won the toss and I was ready with my standard "100 without loss at lunch" plan.  Then Rory Hamilton-Brown elected to field.  I thought I'd misheard but, no, Middlesex was going to bat.  Hmm, what happened to the three absolutes about winning the toss?

(1) Win the toss and bat

(2) If you're not sure, think about it and bat

(3) If you're still not sure, ask someone, and then bat

I took a deep intake of breath, remembered he was the captain and professional cricketer not me, and revised my simple plan to read "Middlesex four down for less than 100 at lunch".  The course of the next couple of hours thus sorted, I settled back in the warm sun, right at the boundary edge.  Lord's was looking splendid and all the ingredients were in place for a great day of cricket.

When I should have gone home ...

Almost immediately, Middlesex lost a wicket, and then another and then a third.  At 28-3, it seemed that (a) electing not to bat had been absolutely the right thing to do and, just as unlikely, (b) my simple plan might actually happen.  I had to wait about an hour but then, yes, the fourth wicket was down, score at 90-something, the umpire called lunch and we were invited to walk on the outfield.  My HQ (happiness quotient) was through the roof.  Should have called it a day and headed home at that point …

My post-lunch simple plan was to have Middlesex all out for under 200 by tea.  A rare Surrey supporter seated nearby nodded his approval.  Hours and hours (or was it days and days) later, another meal break had passed, and I had moved from the Grand stand to the Compton Stand to stay in the sun.  Middlesex had put on 250 more runs and the fifth wicket still hadn't fallen.  Having tried to distract myself with how Old Father Time had managed to Tweet a photograph that had clearly been taken from the Pavilion and whether there were squatters in the TMS commentary box, I found myself surrounded by over-excited Middlesex fans, applauding a second Middlesex centurion and longing for the close of play.  Now I understood why having a game that lasts for so long is such a bad idea: it gives so much opportunity for stuff to happen - and, almost inevitably, that's not all going to be "to plan".  The fifth wicket eventually fell but I was hard pressed to summon any positive emotion.

... when I actually went home!



Euphoria to if not actual misery then at least its first cousin in just a few hours.  And it had been my choice to watch this.  Do I really have to go back tomorrow?  Entirely up to me - but I kind of know that, unless the rain gods smile on me, I'll be there by 11 am formulating yet another optimistic simple plan that's almost certainly doomed to failure.  Before this morning, I can't remember the last time that I got one right.  Oh well, that's the game I love.  Perhaps I can find a few more Surrey supporters in the morning: misery shared is misery halved, after all - or is that doubled?

Riding Route #93

A few weeks ago, an elderly friend - in my mind, my pseudo-great aunt (PGA) - told me a story about travelling on a Number 93 bus in London during the Second World War.  She and her husband had been to the theatre and coming out found they couldn't use the underground due to an air-raid.  They'd caught the first vaguely suitable homebound bus and found themselves in Putney.  From there they'd caught a Number 93 to take them across the river to their home in Wimbledon.  Amongst the few other passengers on the top deck was a woman huddled deep inside her coat a few seats behind.  Suddenly, the woman got off the bus, leaving behind a package on the seat.  My PGA's husband snatched it up and dashed downstairs to look for her but without success.  He returned to my PGA clutching the package and announced that they were now the proud "parents" of a tiny kitten - for that's what was in the package.  The kitten was named Lucky and provided my PGA with many years of welcome company (for her husband was an airman); along with plenty of wonderings about how many other apparently unwanted kittens the woman had left on buses that day.

I decided to take a ride on a Number 93 bus - not in the hope of finding a kitten (I'm sorted in the feline pet department) but because I've often thought about travelling random London bus routes for the joy of it and the Number 93 seemed as good a one to start with as any.  Looking it up on the Transport for London website, I found that rather than running between Putney and Wimbledon, as I'd supposed from my PGA's story, it continued to North Cheam, which felt as if it might be rather a long way into Surrey.  I was still undecided about whether I would travel the whole route or just the part in my PGA's story when I arrived, by tube, at Putney Bridge to embark upon my adventure.

Tour of Three Arches

Having been to the beach on the first day of this four day weekend, I thought I'd do some Saturday sightseeing. Wanting something a little different, and hopefully fairly free of real tourists, I decided to visit three of London's arches.

First stop was Wellington Arch, which stands on a traffic island at Hyde Park Corner, and is one of those arches that isn't now where it started off. It was designed in 1825 by Decimus Burton and originally intended by King George IV as a mark of Wellington's defeat of Napoleon and an entrance to Constitution Hill. When completed in 1828, an enormous statue of the Duke of Wellington stood on top of it. By 1883, the narrowness of the arch was causing traffic hold-ups around Hyde Park Corner and so it was dismantled and moved by 20 metres to its current location to allow for road widening. The Wellington Statue was removed and in 1912 its place taken by the amazing "Peace Descending on the Quadriga of War" by Adrian Jones, which is still the largest bronze statue in London (and Western Europe).

Despite its solid external looks, the arch is hollow and until 1992 housed the second smallest police station in London (beaten only by that in Trafalgar Square). Half of the arch provides a ventilation shaft for the underground but the rest is open to the public, who can enjoy looking across London from the third floor balconies. For me today, these provided a good view down on a convoy of open top buses full of proud Englishmen and women celebrating St George's Day with very enthusiastic, if not entirely, tuneful renditions of Jerusalem. Just over this weekend, Wellington Arch is hosting the Let Them Eat Cake exhibition, showing some recreations of royal wedding cakes, as well as some amazing original designs. The Arch is licensed as a wedding and reception venue. Pretty sure that it wasn't on the shortlist for next Friday's royal event but it would be an interesting choice for a somewhat more intimate occasion.

A short walk across Hyde Park, I reached Marble Arch, which is another arch that has been relocated to a traffic island, standing at the hugely busy junction of Edgware Road, Oxford Street, Park Lane and Bayswater Road. Also commemorating Wellington's victory, it was designed in 1828, by John Nash. It originally stood on The Mall as a grand gateway to Buckingham Palace, which at the time did not have its current familiar front. The arch was moved to its present location, in the early 1850s when the front (east) wing of the palace was constructed to provide additional space for Queen Victoria and her expanding family. Like Wellington Arch, it served, until 1950, as a police station.

My third arch was Admiralty Arch, which has not been moved and stands at the junction of The Mall and Trafalgar Square. King Edward VI commissioned the arch in memory of his mother Queen Victoria, but did not live to see it. The arch was designed by Sir Aston Webb and completed in 1912. Its name comes from the adjoining Old Admiralty Building but the arch has no naval connections itself. It comprises five arches: the outer two used for pedestrians, the next pair for vehicles and the central arch used only on state occasions, although it won't be used on Friday.

Of the three, Wellington Arch was by far my favourite. Mostly because of being able to climb it and enjoy the views.  And partly, of course, because it's  made of Portland stone.  Marble Arch has always seemed a bit sinister as I associate it with the nearby site of the Tyburn gallows, although these ceased use before the arch was even conceived. And Admiralty Arch, for all its splendour, is really a working building rather than a landmark with which one can interact. It seems that having been relocated to a traffic island rather than remaining over a public highway works actually well for an arch from an accessibility point of view.

Bank Holiday at the Beach

Going to the beach is a fairly conventional thing to do on a Bank Holiday, isn't it? Particularly on one when the temperature soars to 25◦ and the skies are clear blue with absolutely no thought of rain. So, armed with sunscreen, towel, and a bucket and spade, I headed for the Thames. Yes, that's right, the River Thames in the centre of London, where those very nice people at the Southbank Centre have very kindly installed a sandy beach for the enjoyment of us city dwellers (OK, and probably a few tourists too). It comes complete with beach huts, world record breaking bunting (courtesy of the residents of Southend-on-Sea), floral exhibits, a bandstand and a fountain: well, bathing in the Thames is definitely a step too far. It's taken out a short-term residency on Queens Walk from today until early September. Hopefully, that means that the British summer's here to stay for the next 4½ months. I'm trying not to think what state the sand will be in by then - or even by tomorrow, come to that.

A Royal Rehearsal

Yesterday, I attended a Royal rehearsal.  No, not that royal rehearsal, which took place at Westminster Abbey a week ago in the absence of Prince William.  Wonder who stood in for him?  Presumably, the unlucky man had to wear a sign around his neck saying "The Groom" or, perhaps, more properly, "HRH The Bridegroom", to avoid confusion.  Guess we'll have to rely upon Prince Harry, who was there, to brief his older brother on what he's supposed to do when, where and how on the day; fingers crossed on that one.

My rehearsal was the Royal Ballet's final dress rehearsal at the Royal Opera House of Manon.  This took place at 11.30 am prior to the opening performance the same evening.  Didn't leave much time for improvements, not that any seemed to be required.  Certainly, the standard of dancing, acting, and playing didn't differ from those of a real performance.  What was different was that the orchestra wore mufti and it was just wrong to see the conductor take his bows on stage in jeans and a striped polo shirt.  This, however, was not the worst dress choice in the house: one member of the audience had made the mistaken decision to wear shorts.  Admittedly, most of the audience was dressed down from the very formal wear that one often sees at an evening performance, and given the time of day and that it was a very pleasantly warm day, this seemed appropriate.  Shorts, though, were a step too far along the path and definitely crossed the boundary from smart casual (or even the subtly different casual smart).

The other feature that distinguished the rehearsal from a performance was the almost constant clicking of the official photographers' camera shutters.  I didn't appreciate that in this digital age such mechanical devices were still involved.  The sound that I wanted to hear but didn't was the National Anthem.  I still mourn its absence from theatrical performances.  Not only was the Royal Ballet performing in the Royal Opera House, it was also Her Majesty's birthday; playing of the anthem wouldn't have been given a second thought if it had been up to me.

Manon is a complex story of dark desire and requires great acting, as well as dancing.  That was delivered beautifully, along with fabulous lighting and costumes, and a good dose of humour.  Let's hope that the old adage suggesting that a great first performance requires a poor dress rehearsal is wrong - both for this run of Manon and for next week's Royal Wedding.  I think I can confidently expect to get my fill of the anthem then.

End of a Perfect Partnership?

I've been wondering how the 30,000+ runners who completed yesterday's London Marathon are feeling today.  Particularly, I've been considering whether any of them could really be feeling disappointed.  Surely even those who did not achieve their target times must be feeling huge satisfaction at having made it around the course?  I guess that some who didn't finish could be feeling regret but for those who crossed the line, I'm struggling to think that any of them aren't feeling a good deal of pride.  And deservedly so.  I watched for about an hour at the Tower of London and was so impressed by how many were running smoothly, steadily and without distress at that point and were destined to finish in about four hours.  I had a degree of uneasiness, however, at seeing those who were really struggling.  It felt voyeuristic to be privy to their personal distress.  Hopefully, the support of the spectators was evidence to them and helped a bit.

While watching, I asked a friend who had run a couple of years ago what guidance was given about post-marathon training.  He looked somewhat taken aback, as if such a concept had never occurred to him, which it apparently hadn't, and then revealed that he'd barely run since.  Two things struck me.  Firstly, why was there no guidance about what to do next, when there is loads about how to prepare?  Presumably, it's a good thing to encourage those who have managed such a feat to continue to run, for their health and personal enjoyment if not to ever do another 26+ miles?  Secondly, for how many people did crossing the line on The Mall yesterday mark the end of a beautiful partnership between them and their trusty trainers?  I had a vision of thousands of pairs of the latter being consigned to dusty cupboard corners with no cognisance of their part in their owners' success.

My relationship with my own trainers is very different from that between those who ran and were run in yesterday.  My trainers do their work inside the gym only and, as a result, they tend to look pristine, hinting even at a lack of use, for a very long time.  They're certainly never asked to run 26+ miles but they've been through hundreds of Step, toning, LBT and Body Pump classes.

My previous trainers had led an entirely indoor existence until they accompanied me to the other side of the world.  Their first outdoor trip was to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which was an amazing adventure for me and, I hope, just as good for them.  Sadly, their life since then has been far less glamorous: they've been replaced as my gym trainers and now get an occasional family dog/children-walking trip across muddy fields to a cosy pub and to walk the streets and bridges of London.

My relationship with my current trainers is even more personal, as I designed them myself and they are unique.  They are pretty and make me smile each time I see them (easily pleased) but their real importance to me is that, like their predecessors, I have a lot of fun while wearing them.  I hope most of those who ran yesterday say the same about theirs.

Risotto Primavera

I had intended today's post to be about asparagus, having gained the impression from its presence in the shops and an article about it on BBC Radio 4's Farming Today this morning, that the British asparagus season had begun.  A bit of basic research has revealed that this is a season with dates, rather than simply describing the period when British asparagus is available.  The start date seems to be around 23-24 April, so I'll put the asparagus post on hold for a few more days.  Having re-listened to the radio programme, it turns out that the noise of my shower had drowned out the comment that the recent clement weather had provoked asparagus into appearing early this year.

Although last weekend's more than spring-like weather has (temporarily) departed, parks and gardens are bursting with blossoms and new leaves.  I'm going to stick with both a spring and a food theme today and share my recipe for risotto primavera.  It brings thoughts of spring, mostly from the colours I think, to my mind whenever I cook it.  And, unlike British asparagus, and despite its name, there's nothing seasonal in it, so there is no reason not to eat it throughout the year.  It takes 30-40 minutes to prepare and is a simple, tasty supper for two.

Zing Into Spring

My third, and last, paper-crafting submission this week is for Get Funky!, the monthly challenge from the Funky Hand design team members.  The challenge was to "Zing into Spring" using greens, yellows and lilacs - and, of course, at least one Funky Hand paper.  The latter is readily achieved, as its Papercraft Factory CDs are crammed full of gorgeous papers.  I chose nine designs from the Marching On collection on the Craft the Year Away CD.  Cutting these into squares, inking their edges and layering them on green card squares was straightforward.  Mounting the nine squares onto the card slightly less so.  Hint: take time to get the central square correctly positioned, then work up, down and across from it and place the corners last.  Pencilling a position number on the back of each helps preserve your carefully chosen layout as you stick them down.

At this point, my progress slowed down somewhat, as I couldn't decide what to use as a topper.  Knowing that lilac would be the main colour, I had intended a flower.  Initially, I teabag folded one from squares of two lilac papers.  It was pretty but overwhelmed by the background.  Next, I tried layering punched flowers from various lilac papers but that seemed too regimented and certainly lacked zing.  Then I remembered a gorgeous Creatables butterfly die and used it on lilac and lime card.  It's a very detailed die and needs to go through the Cuttlebug twice.  It then takes a bit of time and patience to poke out all the little bits of the design but is well worth the effort.

I definitely felt I was making progress by this stage but the lacy butterflies didn't stand out enough from the busy background.  The thought that I'd have to alter that was firmly pushed to the back of my mind.  I drew around the die and hand cut a plain butterfly from each of the cards. I edged both sets of wings with inks and layered them up, with contrasting hand cut bodies.  This looked promising, but the effect was still a bit flat.  I clear heat embossed the bodies and bent their wings up a bit and now they looked a lot more dynamic and fluttery.

Picking up my original floral plan, I punched some small lilac flowers, stuck tiny lime punched flowers in their middles and clear heat embossed each of them twice.  The end was in sight.  I punched some tiny lime coloured leaves, dabbed them on an inkpad to produce a variegated effect, randomly grouped the flowers and leaves together.  The finished result is quite a busy card but the colours bring the elements together well.  I'm pleased, and after I've submitted it to the challenge, it'll be on its way to my aunt for her birthday on Easter Saturday.

I've always felt that making cards to deadline cramps creativity but this week I've found that it's helped focus my mind.  A big part of that, I think, is having a brief to fulfil, rather than a blank card and a huge craft stash, which can be overwhelming.  I'm really looking forward to the next round of challenges, and trust that a short gap before embarking upon these will recharge my crafting batteries.  Time to pursue other activities for a while.

London Eye Spy

One of the many great things about London is that it has so many moods.  Like so many of us, the city itself is influenced by the time of day and year, and, of course, being thoroughly British, by the weather.  Yesterday, bathed in sunshine and covered by a blue sky, London seemed playful to me.  So, I played one of my favourite games with it: London Eye Spy.  It was 11 years ago that this 135 metre high wheel took up residence on the south bank of the Thames.  Ever since then it's been provoking me to smile by appearing between buildings in any number of unexpected places.



Yesterday, I knew just which view of it I wanted to see.  It's one that I first found when heading south on a bus over Waterloo Bridge one night.  I looked back over my shoulder, across the Southbank Centre, and saw the Clock Tower of the Palace of Westminster (aka Big Ben) framed by the ring of the wheel.  The daylight view lacks the drama of the night sky as a background but I still find it pleasing.

At the top left of the Eye, one of the 32 capsules is missing, due to the one by one revamp of the pods that has been on-going since mid-2009.  Like so many things in London, it's due to be completed by 2012.

At the top right of the Eye is the controversial orange capsule that appeared earlier this year when the Eye's sponsor changed.  Lambeth Council has refused permission for the orange colour to remain and, although the London Eye is appealing the decision, this feature might well not last as long as the sponsorship. 

Which might not be such a bad thing: I'm not convinced it's in the sponsors' best interests.  I certainly didn't guess an energy firm.  I'd have gone for a mobile phone company, followed by an airline and then a supemarket; at a push, perhaps a fizzy drink.  Perhaps I've been seeing too many films if an orange pod on the Eye makes me think of an animated macaw that's undergone an enforced colour change?  Anyway, aren't energy companies supposed to be green?  Probably wouldn't go down any better with the council, but might provide a wry smile for a singular MP across the river.

Three in a Row

Clare Curd presents paper-crafters with a weekly challenge each Tuesday on the Docrafts Creativity website, alternating between sketches and inspiration challenges. Encouraged by my first challenge entry yesterday, I resolved that today would see my second. This presented me with more than one challenge, as the submission deadline was 9 pm. Although I'd printed the sketch layout yesterday, I hadn't given any thought to what I might create until I got home just before 6 pm today. I resolved that supper could (and would) wait until I'd made my card, uploaded and submitted it and headed optimistically towards my craft stash

Happily, I found loads of bits and pieces that I could use. As the sketch design was very square and symmetrical, I wanted some contrast from my design and settled upon some girlie shoe embellishments for the basis of the toppers. Encouraged that meeting the deadline was achievable, I grabbed some co-ordinating ribbons and eyelets, picked up my bag of crafting essentials and headed to my laptop. The ever inspirational Funky Hand Papercraft Factory CDs provided me with just what I needed by way of interesting backing papers from the Lush Lilac collection of Dreams Come True. I then spent a gloriously happy hour or so cutting, layering and sticking, while the London sky outside darkened ominously.

The light was failing fast as I finished my card and snapped a photograph. It was tempting to head to the kitchen at that point and cook but I stuck to my resolve and 15 minutes later, all the technical stuff was done. A quick browse through the other entries indicated that it wasn't just me who had left it to the last minute. Several of the cards were gorgeous and I took a few moments to make complimentary comments about them. It's so lovely that almost as soon as one uploads a card to the gallery on the website someone will tell you how fab it is - thank you all - and it's a real pleasure to reciprocate when other people's creativity inspires me. Warm feelings all round, regardless of who wins.

I make a resolution to prepare earlier in the week in future but suspect that Monday supper might be more of a scrappy affair than a feast for a while. Who needs food when one has creativity? Now that's a diet that would work for me!

Aqua and Brown

One of my driving forces in starting this blog was to get involved with the huge, expanding and dynamic network of creative people out there by entering some of my handcrafted greetings cards in online paper crafting challenges.  This weekend I decided to take the leap and enter my first one.  Having spent a while looking for friendly, approachable and encouraging sites and challenges, I settled upon this month's Crafter's Companion Challenge.  My reason for choosing it for my first foray was that the theme of the challenge was a somewhat unusual colour combination (aqua and brown) that I had just really enjoyed using to make both a Mother's Day card, which one of my friends sent to his mother last weekend, and a birthday card for a very good friend in Australia.  The latter is the one that I have entered for the challenge, although both appear in the "Latest Card Makes" slideshow on my blog.



The mermaid topper, which is from Lili of the Valley, was the starting point for the card design.  I love her gentle but knowing femininity.  I bet she never has a bad hair day despite spending so much time exposed to the elements!  Her sweet natured poise very much reminds me of the recipient of the card.  Having selected the mermaid, I then enjoyed trawling through my stash and finding suitably co-ordinating papers, ribbons and embellishments.  It was one of those great card-making moments when I didn't have a particular plan in mind but it all came together very naturally.  Looking at it now, just a day or so after entrusting it in the post, I can see where it could be improved - inking around the edge of the backing paper for a start - but it still makes me smile.  I hope it evokes the same response when it arrives on the other side of the world.

Grand Ambitions

My grandest ambition for today was another win on the National. Another to follow up last year: my first year placing a bet and my first win. I have to thank my brother, as without him it wouldn't have happened. I got a somewhat desperate text from him, holidaying in Spain, the day before last year's race asking me to put a tenner on some horse (can't remember the name but think it had won the Welsh National), remarking that our mother, who he'd clearly asked first, "didn't know where the bookies was". We took this to mean something along the lines of "I don't want to enter any such den of iniquity". Anyway, despite having no idea how to place a bet, I was content to oblige and found I readily knew the location of at least half a dozen betting shops.

I decided that if I was putting on a bet for him then I'd have a go myself, studied a Saturday morning paper's pull out National supplement over breakfast and drew up a shortlist of two. Thus prepared, I took a minor five metre detour on my way to my regular Saturday morning gym classes to the bookies that was practically next door. Having descended an anonymous set of stairs behind the encouragingly open door, I found an empty room and a very obliging member of staff who seemed delighted to help me fill in my slips and made what turned out to be a gem of a suggestion to fix my odds. Having handed over thirty quid, I texted my brother and headed off to the gym thinking that I'd done my bit to swell the bookmakers' coffers.

My brother phoned me the moment his plane landed in the UK asking what the result had been. Sadly, as this was half an hour before the race started, I couldn't help him. Turned out he would have been able to place his own wager after all. Glad it's not just me that gets confused with time zones and the 24 hour clock. I settled down to watch the race with the three betting slips in front of me, plus the two names I'd drawn from the office sweepstake, and decided that it'd be reasonable if three out of the five finished and having no higher aspirations than that. I've no idea now of the names of the other four horses and only a vague recollection of how they finished. I have a suspicion that my brother's horse fell and one of my sweepstake horses came in last. I held my breath as the remaining horses jumped the last and began the run home. My horse (Don't Push It) was in the lead and crossed the line first! Thanks to my brother's holiday, my mother's squeamishness and a helpful bookie, I was now £200 better off. In a fit of sibling love, or possibly post-winning euphoria, I even told my brother that his stake was on me.

I caused amusement amongst the boys in the office on Monday morning when I enquired how I went about claiming my winnings. I couldn't believe that it was as simple as presenting my slip to the bookies. There were several volunteers prepared to do it for me in exchange for a small fee. But I did it myself, was congratulated warmly by a different member of staff and handed £210; I hadn't realised that I'd get my stake back. Spent the money, of course, several times over and enjoyed every penny.

This year, with my brother safely in the UK and able to sort his own wager, I made a deal with myself. If I did my double gym class, sacrificed a second consecutive day of sunny cricket at The Oval and spent a couple of hours tackling the jungle that used to be the back garden, I'd get another winner. Think it worked? Of course not. Having decided that it would be pushing it to count on A P McCoy and Don’t Push It to deliver for me again (right on that count), I consulted this year's pull out supplement, selected three names and visited the same betting shop. Did a much better job filling in the slips myself, handed over another £30, sweated through my gym classes and headed home to the jungle.

Two hours of hacking at brambles and pulling out miles of bindweed later, I had filled three recycling bags and it was half an hour to the race start. I took a few minutes to reflect upon the progress I'd made in the garden, ignoring how much more there was to do, made a cup of tea and settled down to watch. I don't suppose that I'd really expected history to repeat itself, and it didn't: I didn't win and Don't Push It came in third. As it became obvious that my horses weren't going to win (two fell and the other was sixth), my worst fear became that Don't Push It would win and I'd feel bad about my disloyalty.

What have I learned? That having a little flutter on the National is enjoyable, whatever the outcome - but winning is terrific fun. That picking a winner is a lottery and certainly can't be influenced by stacking up indulgences. And that pulling out bindweed is a really rewarding task! Can't wait for the full recycling sacks to be collected so that I can fill them up again. Who knows, by the end of the summer, I might have reclaimed my garden. Which would be fab for me but not so great for the member of the local fox community who finds it a good den and a whole mixed flock of sparrows and blue tits who have a lovely time each morning tweeting and fluttering in and out of the brambles. Perhaps, as my ever helpful brother suggests, I can reclaim half and leave the other for them? Moreover, perhaps I can persuade him to go on holiday for next year's race and let me place his bet?

A Day of Firsts

Primarily, today was the first day of the English cricket County Championship.  Usually, the season's start in early-April is fraught with tension: not least, will the weather be clement and will anyone come and watch?  This year, both potential points of concern were well and truly averted - and there is probably a link between the two.  The Oval was bathed in glorious, warm sunshine and covered by a perfectly clear blue sky from dawn to dusk; and, perhaps further aided by it being a Friday, somewhere in excess of 700 people had shown up by lunchtime to watch Surrey play Northamptonshire.  Of course, at a huge ground like The Oval, the place still looked very sparsely populated compared to a Twenty20 or an international match but the atmosphere was full of energy, enthusiasm, optimism and anticipation.

Personally, this was my first day of 2011 in cropped trousers, my first in sandals - which led to my first blister of the year, my first day of applying sunscreen, and my first day of getting a little bit of colour into my pallid skin.  How good it all felt; well, apart from the blister - although it is already healing nicely, thank you.  Bit miffed about the blister, actually, as these are my favourite, most reliable, go anywhere sandals and have never inflicted injury on me before.

Cricketwise, there were also many firsts.  A somewhat inevitable situation, given that today was the first day of the season.  Some occurred at The Oval - and not all were welcome.

• First wicket, first duck and first golden duck: Northamptonshire's Chaminder Vaas had Surrey's Michael Brown lbw, from his first ball faced and only the second ball of the day
• First bowling point: Essex taking the third Kent wicket
• First half-century: Durham's Mark Stoneman (51)
• First batting point: Surrey reaching 200 runs
• First century: Kent's Sam Northeast (127)
• First team out: Kent for 247 runs off 70 overs
• First five wicket haul: Yorkshire's Adil Rashid (6-77)

There were many more that could be included but this was plenty for me to note down.  I was aided by the very helpful ECB Cricket mobile app.  I'm attributing its persistence in believing that The Oval game had not started until about 11.20 am to first day nerves.

As usual, my simple plan for Surrey (100 without loss at lunch) went awry very quickly - to only the second ball of the day.  I was not ready for this turn of events, having prepared most inadequately by predicting a wonderful season leading to promotion and encouraged by Rory Hamilton-Brown winning the toss and deciding to bat.  Simple plan quickly revised to 100-1 at lunch, which was also dismissed pretty quickly, after which, as usual, I gave up formulating simple plans and just sat - oddly all day long on a surprisingly comfortable step rather than a seat - and soaked up the atmosphere and sunshine.  My enjoyment was enhanced further by being allowed onto the outfield during the lunch and tea intervals.  Lying flat on my stomach on the beautiful grass, reading the paper and munching sandwiches was marvellous.  And thanks to Chris the Chief Steward for being so polite, patient and smiley when the time came for him to encourage me to relinquish my spot for play to resume.

At the close of play, Surrey was all out for 322 and Northamptonshire had survived four overs to be 12-0.  Honours even and a fitting result to an almost perfect first day of the season.  Next simple plan: for this marvellous weather to prevail throughout the season.  Any wagers on how long before that one is shot to pieces?

Reflections on a Winter of Cricket

It seems such a long time since 25 November 2010 (strictly 24 November GMT), when I was suffering a most unsettling combination of excitement, anxiety and anticipation.  An emotional cocktail unmatched since 23 November 2006 and look how that ended.  The long awaited start of the 2010/11 Ashes series had nearly arrived and I was preparing to hear it through the long dark cold nights in the company of the marvellous TMS team.  As I waited for the minutes to tick by to the start of the broadcast, my memory took me back over the numerous series that I'd listened to, in the dark, snuggled under the duvet.  Right back to my very first: New Zealand v England in early-1984.  How much winter cricket I had enjoyed - and often endured - since then.  Despite these experiences, my levels of excitement and optimism this time around were sky high.

I had run out of ways to occupy myself productively as the minutes passed so so slowly.  All media sources covered: Sky on the bedroom TV, digital and LW radios tuned to TMS and my laptop showing the BBC Live Commentary page at the bedside.  I'd exchanged emails and texts with all my cricket friends, including one in Australia who was certain that The Ashes were not going to be Australia's.  A most pleasing thought, of course, but not one that I was prepared to voice out loud at that stage, although it had been buzzing around my head for months.

Eventually, it was time for the toss.  Mr Strauss won and chose to bat.  Great start and no chance of a repeat of a first ball as disastrous as Harmison's opener in 2006.  All was going to be fine, I dared to think.  Huge mistake: three balls in and Strauss was out without scoring.  Not part of my simple plan.  (100 without loss at lunch.)  Surely, this couldn't be the start of a repeat of four years ago …

Happily not, and by early-January 2011 my sleep sacrifices and all the anguish, highs and lows in between had been rewarded with a 3-1 series victory.  The Ashes had been firmly retained by England.  The ticker tape at the SCG was red and white, not gold and green as had fallen on my head four years earlier.  The little urn remained properly ours.  And I've got a personalised mug to commemorate the achievement of England's only winter cricketing objective.

And that, of course, is where the winter of cricket ended.  Did anything happen after that?  Twenty20 matches?  ODIs?  Perhaps some long winded international tournament on the sub-continent?  There were plenty of rumours about all of those but I've no memory of them - and no mug in the kitchen cupboard, so that proves it.