Where's Mrs M?

I say!

It's rather a big case of whinging Aussies after the first Test Match. First of all, they get wound up about an innocent advert beamed on to Sydney Harbour Bridge, and then Ricky Ponting, The Aussie captain, get's upset when one of the England batsmen changes his gloves. Well, I say - which of us, even the Queen, has not wanted to change our gloves at some stage or another?

When, of when, will the Aussies stop complaining? The next thing you know, they may copy the West Indies players, go into a complete huff, and decline to play.

It was a close-run thing in the first Test Match of the Ashes in Cardiff, but in the end it was a draw. Who knows what might have happened if Australa had had to bat again. All it takes is ten good balls, after all. Of course, there was the small matter of the 670 or so runs that they scored in the first innings, but's let's not worry too much about that.

England have not been humiliated (yet), and what a real plus that is. Things can only get better.

Not too long to go until Duneditin 2009. In the meantime, where's Mrs M in the snap shown below?



MM III

The Ashes are England's

I say!

This morning at Cardiff, in the 65th instance of The Ashes, England won the toss, and chose to bat. England are playing two spinners, and this means that the Aussies will have to bat last on a wicket which is known to turn square. The main Aussie fast bowler, Brett Lee, is injured.

It's obvious that the Ashes are almost England's, and we can look forward to seeing a similar image to the above, but with the Ashes raised above the England captain's head, in the media, later in the summer.

MM III

Update. Hmm, some minor hiccups as England lose three early wickets on the first morning's play, but nothing to worry too much about, I trust.

For those who like to relive Ashes moments of the past, and that must surely include just about everyone, there's a lovely Ashes Archive at the BBC. Only this morning, Doviko was telling me that he wished he had more time to listen to and watch these archived sound recordings and videos.

I'm back, I'm mean...and I'm tipsy

I say!

How wonderful it is to be back in Kalimbuka once more after our travels to the Far East. Mrs M and myself had a most wonderful time in Sri Lanka and other places, of which more in a while. The expedition was a resounding success, and I have brought back irreputable evidence of all sorts of things.

For once, the trip did not involve very much hush hush business, and I was therefore able to concentrate almost entirely on pitch matters. By that, I do not mean pitch matting, but rather the real substance of pitches - mother earth.

I have a lot to report on, but before that, returning to Kalimbuka slightly jet-lagged brings to mind a previous occasion when I returned from the Far East. My route at that time, some eight years ago, took in Dear Old Blighty. Having earned so many airmiles from the trip, I treated Hotboy to an extended weekend in the Nederlands before returning to Kalimbuka.

Well, I tell you...what a weekend we had. We didn't even manage to check in to our hotel for the first two days. I believe that one night we stayed at a squat in Harlem, but can't be too sure, as Hotters started serious drinking on the flight over (ordering me one for each two that he consumed), and then dragged me into a bar as soon as we'd landed. Then he introduced himself to some locals. Several hours later I completely lost track of reality.

I believe it was on the Sunday morning that I eventually said to Hotters:

"I say, Hotters! My feet haven't touched the ground yet. As far as I can recollect, I believe that we haven't eaten for at least a day or so. What say you that we call into this establishment [pointing to a restaurant] and order some breakfast?"

Well, let me tell you, Hotters was not impressed with this suggestion. In fact, and in no uncertain terms, he shouted back at me:

"Mingin! Pull yourself together, man. This is Amsterdam. Ah'm nae gonna pollute masel' wi food! It's entirely up to you if you want to."

We did, however, end up in the restaurant. I had a lovely breakfast, and Hotters had some more liquid refreshments to wash down the pills he'd just bought at the corner shop.

Such a civilised place, Amsterdam. I must return there, in the near future.

But to matter of more consequence.

Here is a quiz question:

What is Mrs M doing in the following snap?


To set the scene and give you a clue, we have just arrived at the most wonderful Hunas Falls Hotel, and have been shown to our room.

Clue: If you were Mrs M, what would you do?

MM III

Bliss puzzle

I say!

By the way, wonderful news about the Duneditin 2009 conference booze cruise, which will have a large supply of MGTs.

Here's a puzzle.

There are two closed boxes. Inside the first box is the key to instant everlasting bliss and happiness. Inside the second box is the key to instant grief, sorrow, lamentations and eternal damnation.

Standing beside the two bozes are two gurus. Both gurus know the contents of both boxes. One guru always tells the truth. The other one always tells lies.

Brian Wilson approaches the gurus and the boxes. He doesn't know which box holds which key, and he doesn't know which is the guru who will tell the truth and which is the guru who will always lie.

Brian Wilson is allowed to ask either one of the gurus one question, and one question only.

What question does Brian Wilson need to ask either one of the gurus in order to be 100% sure that he can then know which box has the key to instant everlasting bliss and happiness?

Answers in a Comment, please.

I have to go away shortly to inspect some pitches in far-off places, so it may be some time until I can reveal if you have the correct answer. But, if you have the correct answer, it will in any case be obvious that it is the correct answer.

MM III

Cricket, Mt Everest, wars, guns, Africa

I say!

By the way, wonderful news about the Duneditin 2009 conference.

How wonderful that the ICC World Twenty20 is about to start. England will surely win it, with South Africa coming second. I doubt whether the Aussies will do very well at all.

How wonderful, also, that the great game of cricket is now being played on Mt Everest. The organisers of these matches haven't asked me to inspect the pitch yet, but I am available, should the call arise, and can look out my crampons, ice axe and fore-and-after. I imagine it might be a bit difficult to get a flat pitch so high up - perhaps just below the Second Step there might be some level ground. Good luck to them, anyway.

There is already an Everest Cricket Club, but it is in America. Eventually, of course, cricket will be played everywhere - I am sure of that. Even underwater.

Another book has been published on how to deal with the various problems in Africa. I have written on this topic many times. Here is just one example. The writer of the new book is called Paul Collier, and the title of his book is Wars, Guns and Votes. He recognises that elections are sometimes over-rated and proposes various solutions, some of which make good sense, but many involve a level of organisation by foreign organisations which is unlikely.

My own solution is to cut aid, in order to allow African economies to thrive without undue influence from outside, but most importantly Western countries must withdraw the subsidies they pay their nationals for agricultural and other products. If this happens, African produce can compete on a level playing field. You can't get a good game of cricket on a pitch which is not level, and neither can you get fair world trade. This is yet another example of how cricket can teach us how to live our lives.

MM III

Ancient Sumerians and cricket

I say!

Here is a wonderful clip of my close friend Daniel (Dr Daniel Kachamba).



On another matter, my friend J.C., a demon bowler and opening batsman of no little talent before he retired to take up full time pitch inspections, has brought back irrefutable proof from his recent research trip to Syria that cricket was a major sport amongst the Ancient Sumerians. In fact, it was probably from them that the Romans learnt the great game. Some time ago, I posted about the Romans and cricket.

J.C. conducted extensive research in the Syrian desert, and sent back the following two snaps.

The first snap shows the wicket at the Sumerian cricket headquarters at Palmyra - their equivalent of Lords. The bails have not been taken off, so one must assume that the game was interrupted by something quite serious - perhaps the Uruks were invaded mid-game by Lugal-Zage-Si of Umma. Note in the background, on the hill, the new press box behind the bowlers arm. It is from there that Gilgamesh, the Sumerian equivalent of Geoffrey Boycott, would have reported to his countrymen upon the state of play.

J.C.'s second snap below clearly shows a Sumerian scorecard. For comparison, I have included a modern equivalent. One can see that the technique has not progressed much over the centuries, but neither has it needed to, such is the noble art.


MM III

What do you do on Saturdays?

I say!

I was in some company the other evening at the 'Government Hostile' when someone present said - "Menzies - what do you do on Saturdays?"

Well, I thought it quite a peculiar question. Of course, I responded "On Saturdays, I watch the cricket, after which I hold a brief training session with the Kalimbuka VII" (It's really the Kalimbuka V unless you count Casper and Farley, the dogs, who often go after the ball when it goes down to third man, their speciality fielding position (i.e. their baskets)).

Ah, the chappy continued - "But what do you do if there's no cricket on the television?"

Well, I was dumfounded, and rather lost for words, because I have no idea what I do on Saturdays if there's no cricket on the television. It very much got me thinking. What on earth DO I do on Saturdays when there is no cricket.

Last Saturday, due to the trouncing England gave the Windies on Friday, there was no cricket on the television, unless you count the IPL game, which I decided not to watch in order that I could find out what I did on Saturdays when there's no cricket.

Here was my day's itinerary:

Got up, shaved and showered, with Mrs M enjoyed Doviko's breakfast of scrambled eggs (our own eggs - the hens have started to lay again). Checked The Daily Times. Read through The Daily Telegraph county cricket scores. Checked cricinfo for forthcoming games.

Walked round the house. Discussed plans for the garden with Wilson. Had a cuppa rooibos. Emptied bowels.

Made out Doviko's shopping list and discussed the forthcoming week's meal plan. Discussed Doviko's loan situation (not too bad). Confirmed Doviko's schedule for the coming two weeks and set him some further performance targets.

Walked round the garden again, and spoke to Abdul about the security incident the other night (turns out it was only the DuPre couple having an argument along the road).

Had lunch and dozed off. Woke up, paid Doviko, Wilson and Abdul their wages.

Had a quick look through Wisden to verify that Brian Close scored 52 centuries (this had been troubling me the previous evening).

With Mrs M, enjoyed Doviko's diner of chambo and chips with a slice of lemon. Let Doviko off without having to do the washing up. Poured an MGT. Lost track of time. Read a book about tea.

And so - I have discovered what I do on Saturdays when there is no cricket on the television. What I spend most of my time doing on Saturdays is spend time thinking up things for the servants to do. It's quite draining, actually. I was tired out by 9pm.

What do YOU do on Saturdays? I invite you to tell me, in comments to this post.

MM III