Cricket: A Sun Dance
Apologies to you all. A couple of weeks ago, Third Man wrote about Depressional Rain. It was at the time of the Rose Bowl Test. He now realises that it was as bad an idea as writing a yawn into the directions for the first act of a play. It’s not stopped raining since.
It is all very well dwelling on the treasures of the Squire’s Collection, and the incessant precipitation all but drove TM to publish another of His Grace’s favourites, 6 Base Confounded Stumps Not Broken, by the mathematician, physicist, contemporary artist and incorruptible umpire, Bruce Nauman, but you can have too much of a good thing.
He was saved from this recourse by the co-incidence of meeting a group of protesting field workers rehearsing their chants in the lea of the Great Barn.
“What do we want?”
“Sunshine!”
“When do we want it?”
“Now!”
They were radicalized in the spring when Cobbett rode through these parts on annual survey.
“What do we want?”
“Village cricket!”
“When do we want it?”
“Now!”
The coincidence was finding Flickr co-ordinates for the writer, editor, media producer and thought leader from Trinidad and Tobago – Georgia Popplewell. A judicious and propitious name?
WARNING: readers should apply Factor 50 and put on their Ray Ban Wayfarers before exposing themselves to the images from Georgia’s caribbeanfreephoto’s photostream above and below.
Padding Up for Howsen:
Inevitably, there’s a Hill and a Critics Corner …
… from where they get this view:
If this doesn’t work, it could mean emigration.
