LEAPING OFF THE PAGE....

One of the books I acquired recently was `The Judge,` the autobiography of Robin Smith one of the very best batsmen for Hampshire and England especially against hostile fast bowling.   I read most of it during quiet times on holiday in Padstow last week but it was only today that I finished reading it.

It is perhaps one of the most `challenging` of autobiographies in that, while it recounts his distinguished cricketing career, it is also a very candid and at times distressing account of the challenges he faced with himself once his cricket career came to an end.   Sufficient to say that he went from the fame and adulation of being a sporting super star to becoming a deeply troubled, almost suicidal shadow of his former self.   Thankfully with the help and support of family and friends both inside and outside the game he managed to reinvent himself into a happy, contented and much loved man.

As a piece of literature it has its flaws - too many unnecessary expletives for my liking - and perhaps it drifts a little too much into sentimentality but for all that it is an honest reflection of the man himself and unsurprising that it is a contender for the Sports Book of the Year award.   In many ways it is reminiscent of the books by Graeme Fowler and Marcus Trescothick who also found cricketing life so difficult and it reminded me too of a book I have in my eclectic collection which recounts the extraordinary number of cricketers who have taken their own lives - it`s called `Silence of the Heart`by David Frith and explains, as Robin Smith discovered, that the life and world of a professional cricketer is so all consuming that the adjustment to life beyond the boundary can be so difficult.

Now on a personal note, something leapt out of page 298 at me.  Last year the chairman of Hampshire County Cricket Club, Rod Bransgrove, organised a Captains` Dinner for the eve of the India Test Match to be played at Hampshire`s Ageas Bowl ground and along with the county`s other eleven living captains Robin and his partner were of course invited.   By then Robin had long been settled in Perth in Western Australia and after a little persuasion he accepted the invitation.

On landing at Heathrow the book says, "When we arrived Patrick`s chauffeur Ian, who I had met years ago, was waiting to drive us to Hampshire........."  One of Hampshire cricket`s very generous supporters was Patrick Trant, who owned a thriving engineering company and Ian was his chauffeur among other roles.

Some years ago now, I had a season ticket at Southampton`s St. Mary`s Stadium and I sat next to Ian, so it was the albeit fleeting reference to Ian that leapt out of the page at me.   Now as a claim to fame it might not amount to much and of itself is hardly a recommendation for a book which deserves to be read with sympathy and understanding that life for the famous and talented is often more challenging than for the likes of Ian and me.   

Had a week in Padstow in Cornwall, which was nice.  Great location, nice cottage and excellent company.   Only downside, apart from the weather that could be described as `inclement`, was the tedious journey to get there and back, but once you`r e there none of that  matters.   Here are a couple of photos I took of the Camel Estuary, where we were staying:-

(Please click on photos for better images)

And after that, back to the realities and the coquettish nature of following assorted football teams.   And didn`t they do well yesterday?   My neighbour`s Gillingham had a convincing win (despite missing two penalties) against the Shrimpers of Southend;  our street`s local hero Scott (`pacy flanker`) Wagstaff lived up to his billing by turning in a pacy performance on the Wimbledon flank as he produced two assists in his team`s 3-2 win over Rochdale.   Both Forest Green Rovers and Truro City lie top of their respective leagues after victories yesterday and although putting in a strong performance, Fort William went down 5-3 at home to Turriff.

So far, so pretty good.   But it was left to the Saints to become the spoilsports of my week by losing yet again, this time at home to Chelsea 4-1.  Same old, same old it seems - powder puff attack plus sieve leaking defence equals unwelcome but predictable stuffing.   Think I`ll go back to Padstow....... 

END OF SUMMER....

To Canterbury for the first day of the last game of this season`s domestic cricket.  The game between Kent and Hampshire at the sanctuary of the St. Lawrence Ground drew some mixed emotions and some divided loyalties between the county of my boyhood and that of my adulthood so it was just as well that the only thing riding on this game was which team would finish the season in the highest place in Division One of the County Championship.

Yesterday we had almost a full day`s play but the weather and - despite some hugely effective floodlights - bad light brought play to an end with something like 30 overs still to be bowled.   But we saw Kent dismissed for a mere 147 and, in reply, Hampshire reached 80 for 3 and that might be it for the season really as this morning the rain is teeming down and the prospects for the next couple of days of this four day game look distinctly bleak.  

But after a truly remarkable summer of cricket I can have no complaints.  The World Cup, the Ashes, the 20-20 finals and the fact that even now the final outcome of both divisions in the county championship are still to be decided has made it a summer to remember.   So I am unashamedly sad that it is all coming to an end - not only the cricket season but also the summer itself. 

I don`t `do` winters or cold or dark and so with the passing of every summer my persona slips into a little melancholy - our old friend seasonal affective disorder, aka SAD, returns together with a longing for the return of the sun, of cricket and of those lazy, hazy days at Canterbury where the rest of the world drifts into a kind of  irrelevance and where at least an illusion of peace can be found amongst an increasingly bonkers world.

A ROSE AMONG THE THORNS....

After the Saints capitulation to Bournemouth on Friday evening I was looking to the Saturday fixtures to provide a little lift in the football firmament.   But, perhaps predictably, our street`s local hero Scott ("Buzzin` six-pack") Wagstaff and his chums contrived once more to lose a home game as Wimbledon went down 3-1 to high flying Bristol Rovers, despite being a goal up.

My neighbour`s much loved Gillingham also went down to a home defeat, this time 1-0 to league leaders Ipswich Town;  Forest Green Rovers could only manage a 0-0 draw at home to Stevenage, Maidstone lost 3-1 away at Dorking Wanderers and Tonbridge also suffered yet another home defeat.  To make things worse, Truro City crashed out of the FA Cuo  4-2 away at Hereford -just up the road really - just a round trip of 424 miles -  despite being 2-0 up early doors and so I had to look elsewhere to find some consolation from this depressing litany.

And the rose between all these thorns turned out to be our old friends Fort William, who had recently ended an 822 days of continued defeat by winning a league game 1-0 against Clachnacuddin.   Yesterday they were pitched against Vale of Leithen FC in a Scottish Cup game and won 5-0.  Yes, 5-0!!!!  There is much dancing in the streets of Fort William and an open top bus parade will proceed around the nearby highlands as this famous victory is given the attention it clearly deserves.

Up next for me - the Saints go to Portsmouth on Tuesday night to play their local rivals in a Caraboa Cup game.   It promises to be a tempestuous affair with emotions running high among the fans of both teams, so God only knows what the outcome will be as Premier League Southampton`s superstars take on the League One minnows.   The Saints will clearly not be helped by playing at Fratton Park which, of course, is Krap Nottarf when spelt backwards - it is, however, elegantly descriptive of what lies in store.

A few days on from posting my recent apology for absence, I woke up the other morning and the bleeding obvious suddenly occurred to me.   So, off to the local chemist who sells a range of `off the peg` spectacles.   I tried on about eight pairs and finally found one that will do for now until I can get some proper prescription ones.

And they work, hence my ability to scribble these few lines.  Whilst I was at it I also bought some sunglasses to help shield my post-operative sensitive peepers from the blazing sunshine we are having at the moment.   So, problem solved.

And in my short absence from these pages a couple of things on the world stage have grabbed my attention.   The first in the mass truancy by countless schoolchildren across the globe who are demonstrating against the inaction of governments to tackle climate change more robustly.  Now I don`t have a problem with their passionate convictions but I do wonder why they can`t avoid denying themselves of their precious education by having their demonstrations during the school holidays or at weekends?

Just asking, that`s all.

Secondly, the weekend got off to a dismal start with Southampton losing 3-1 at home to near neighbours Bournemouth.   I`m beginning to worry about this season for the Saints (nothing unusual, I agree) but although we play some nice football we seem to be lacking goal scoring ability whilst at the same time lacking defensive qualities.  There are clearly problems to be solved at St. Mary`s and, like me, the bleeding obvious is staring manager Ralph Hasenhuttl in the face.  Just hope that when he wakes up one morning he will see it as clearly as I saw mine.

APOLOGIES FOR ABSENCE..

Yesterday I had my second cataract operation courtesy of the excellent eye clinic at Maidstone Hospital.   Once again I am grateful to the NHS for the excellent service they have given me for what promises to be a life changing procedure.   

The effect has been that whilst I can now clearly see long distances, I cannot make out small print on things like letters, e-mails, newspapers or even the letters on my keyboard.   So it`s going to be a problem to post regularly on this blog, for which I apologise.   It might be some time before the eyes settle down from the two operations and posting this note of apology is a bit of a long winded and hit or miss affair so I`m sure you understand.

That said, I know I will miss posting on here but I hope to resume as soon as I get some reading glasses which could well be a few weeks away to give time for my eyes to settle before the prescription for the glasses can be sensibly performed.

Apologies again but hope to resume `normal` service as soon as I can.  Many thanks for your understanding.

A TURN OF THE PAGE....

I`m a lucky man.  Well some people might describe me as more sad than lucky but they will be the ones who do not share my lifelong passion for cricket  I suppose it all began in 1949 when my parents took me to see the New Zealand touring team play Hampshire at the old Northlands Road ground in Southampton.   It was a case of love at first sight and one which, if anything, has grown stronger as the years have gone by.

In the latter stages of my schooldays I found myself appointed as captain of the school cricket eleven - with mixed results - and it was about that time that I started to play for two local village teams - one on Saturdays and the other on Sundays.  And to my astonishment and bewilderment the Sunday team asked me to be their captain for a couple of magical seasons before I was swept up into the Army to do my National Service.

Apart from the odd guest appearance, that was the end of my playing career - the vagaries of military life, followed by husbandhood and parenthood, along with the time cricket matches take, meant that I was lost to the game.   But the game was never lost to me and I started to acquire books about cricket - the odd Wisden Almanac and Benny Green`s Anthologies - since when my collection has continued to fill my bookshelves.

Over the years I have bought and treasured books about cricketing heroes such as Harold Gimblett, Harold Larwood and Sir Jack Hobbs, books about Hampshire Cricket Club, Glamorgan, Somerset and I have revelled in the writing of those such as John Arlott, Neville Cardus, David Frith, David Foot, Duncan Hamilton and the incomparable Patrick Collins for whom a day at Canterbury to witness the ladies hat competition at tea time whilst cossetted within the sanctuary that is the St. Lawrence Ground was an abiding memory.

You see, for me at least, the thing that makes cricket writing so admirable is that it is proper writing.   Football may have the occasional worthy scribe, such as Hugh McIlvanney, but cricket somehow produces a host of writers who have managed to capture the romance and the soul of what is more a way of life than simply a game - and they have done so with literary skill, perception and something approaching reverence which cannot be found in the delusional ramblings of, say, Sam Allardyce or Harry Redknapp.   The cricket writers can write - that`s the difference.

Now, for my 80th birthday a few weeks ago I was give book tokens by generous friends and neighbours and for which I am seriously grateful for it has allowed me to add yet more to my cricket library into which I will dip as the world outside the hallowed game grows less and less appealing and the need to get away from it all becomes more  and more compelling.

And thanks to that generosity I have now acquired `The Judge` -  the autobiography of Robin Smith,  one of Hampshire and England`s finest batsmen and former resident of Nomansland in the upper reaches of the New Forest;  `The Great Romantic`by Duncan Hamilton which will I am sure capture  cricket in the golden age of Neville Cardus;  `A Cricketing Miscellany` by Marcus Berkmann and, for good measure, Duncan Hamilton`s `Going to the Match,` which could well bring to football the same insight and intelligence that he has brought to cricket writing over the years.

Told you I was a lucky man.

It has now been well over three years since the EU Referendum, since when we seem to have been stuck in a time warp as the UK Parliament has failed time and again to implement the decision - and it was a decision given to the British people to make - to leave the institution that is the European Union.   The vote was pretty close but clear with a majority well over a million votes.

Now I confess to have voted to leave - mainly for reasons that might be partly selfish,  based partly on family history but principally because I thought it best for the country to regain its independence, to be able to conduct its own affairs and to confirm its place as a leading nation in world affairs, trade and international relations.  I quite accept that those who voted to remain in the EU are more than entitled to their view but in the end a democratic decision was made by the people and needed to be respected and acted upon.

But the way that Parliament has behaved in all that time has been a national disgrace and continues to be so.   MPs have shown themselves to be incapable of applying reason to carrying out the will of the majority but instead we have had a litany of argument, manoeuvre and evasion all attempting to disguise the reality that the majority of MPs did not agree with the referendum result and so have used the three years to indulge in blatant political opportunism all leading to the farcical situation in which the nation now finds itself.  They shout, they argue, they rant, they bring the game into disrepute and wonder why most people outside of Westminster or even London are thoroughly tired of them and all their works.

Last night I watched the first ten minutes or so of the BBC Question Time programme which quickly descended into yet more shouting, arguing and ranting leaving the audience once again perplexed that these politicians can behave the way they do rather than concentrate on the mandate they should have honoured months, if not years, ago.  I switched the TV off as I could stand it no longer.

And all the sound and fury both within Parliament and outside reminded me of Joe South`s `Games People Play.`   His song goes back decades but is somehow still relevant to modern day British politicians.   The first few lines are:-

`Oh the games people play now

Every night and every day now

Never meaning what they say now

Never saying what they mean

And they wile away the hours

In their ivory towers

Till they're covered up with flowers

In the back of a black limousine.`

Once again it takes music to tell the truth but I wonder what lyrics will be able to describe the mayhem on the streets if the referendum result is ultimately denied and the majority are silent no more..............

.......and you can tell that is is by the number of cars parked all over the place, including on the double yellow lines.   And it all reminds me of my own very first day at school all those years ago.  Well, 75 years ago to be precise.

At the time, my mother and I were living with an aunt and uncle in the village of Blackfield near Southampton but the school I had to go to was at Fawley, a mile or so away.   I suppose it was September 1944 - I had turned five in July - and wartime, of course, but my childhood friends and I were almost blissfully unaware of it all, as wartime was the only thing we had ever known and so that was how life was and we just got on with being children as best we could.

Now for some time before my first day at school, people had been saying things like, "So you`ll be off to school on Monday then" and having heard this a number of times I was convinced that I would be going to school on that Monday.......but perhaps only for that day.  It never occurred to me that it was a long term commitment.

Come the day and my mother walked me to Fawley school that day - all the other days I walked there and back on my own.  But having been left there and with no idea what it was all about or what was going on, come lunchtime I decided I had had enough and started to walk home.   On the way I realise that perhaps I shouldn`t be doing this, so I slowed the pace, took my time and got home at what I imagined to be a sensible time.

Not so, of course.  I was met by my astonished mother and I recall her being her usual understanding and sympathetic self, so I wasn`t in too much trouble.  Next day, much to my surprise I was sent on my way to school again but this time I took a note from my mother to explain my misdeeds of the day before and - maybe because it was wartime? - I didn`t seem to get into too much bother from the teacher (I think we might have had two of them.)

But I think that formative episode along with my reluctant attendance at all the other schools I ever went to might have been responsible for my natural inclination to buck trends, to question authority and to react instinctively against any form of repression.  Maybe, like Forest Gump, I should have just kept on walking.

Well, it was one of those weeks really.  A number of `issues` which disturbed my peace before I could look to Saturday to provide some much needed relief.  My car was at the menders for a couple of days having some dent s removed after my cataract operation resulted in me driving into the garage door rather than the garage.   Then the washing machine conked out so its replacement meant a priority hive of activity and then the car wouldn`t start  yesterday morning, thanks to the battery dying on me.

So, was there any comfort to be found in this weekend`s football?  Some and some,   The Saints pulled off a very creditable 1-1 draw against ManUre at St. Mary`s, despite being a goal down at half time and then going down to 10 men thanks to Kevin Danso`s debut dismissal.  I cannot tell you how much I dislike Manchester United, but I`ll keep that for another day although once again the press and other media (including the boy Lineker and his chums) were all over how dreadful ManUre were and gave little or no acknowledgement of how manfully the Saints had performed.  It is as ever was, it seems.

Elsewhere in my eclectic footy world, the game between Fort William and Wick Academy was called off due to a waterlogged pitch.  I just hope that the Wick contingent didn`t have to make the 334 mile round trip from the northern tip of Scotland to the foothills of Ben Nevis for nothing.   At the other end of the country Truro City went to Farnborough in Hampshire and came away with a hard fought 2-0 win to maintain their early season promotion push.   In the annals of their heroic journeys the mere 470 mile trip there and back has now become pretty normal.

My good friend and neighbour, the well known Gillingham season ticket holder, had carried out a particularly irksome task of helping the aged next door despite suffering from a bad back but he clearly passed the fitness test to enable him to take his seat at the Priestfield to witness the now customary 5-0 hammering of much troubled Bolton Wanderers. So he`s over the moon and our street`s local hero Scott (`good engine and an eye for a pass`) Wagstaff captained Wimbledon in their 0-0 draw against the Chairboys of Wycombe.  He`s now known locally as Captain Scott (not of the Antarctic.)

Not such good news for Forest Green Rovers who lost at home to Newport County or for Maidstone United who suffered a 2-0 reverse away at Wealdstone.

Having just returned from the Bluewater Shopping Thingy and found a little time to scribble these garbled lines, it is my earnest hope that nothing else will go wrong to disturb the peace and serenity of the next couple of weeks as the International break descends on us once more.   Just the cricket to worry about I suppose - oh, and Brexit (possibly.) 

Well it sure was a Bank Holiday weekend to remember.  The cricket was fantastic, as was the Rugby and the Saints won a game away from home, prompting yet another open top bus ride around Southampton.

The weather was more than a bit on the scorchio side and I felt for those thousands who had decided to spend a glorious weekend at a city centre carnival or some ear splitting music festival or, even worse, fighting through motorway madness just to get where thousands of people were there already.

So how to avoid all that and find some peace and quiet away from it all?  Well, we decided to take Dudley our retriever for a nice walkies through some of Kent`s finest countryside.   So we parked the car in a nearby village and started our walk through open fields which had been harvested a week or so before.   We looked back to the village and this was the tranquil scene with the village church resplendent in the early morning haze.......

We then climbed up the hill towards the foot of the North Downs and saw this old but prosperous farmhouse proudly standing on its hill and surveying its domain........ 

After climbing a little further we joined the Pilgrims Way - the long distance footpath that leads from Winchester to Canterbury, a large section of which passes through this part of Kent.  I took this photo to demonstrate the peace and quiet, not to say solitude, that rush hour on the Pilgrims Way can bring - so different from the M20 Motorway just a couple of miles away........

And as we left the Pilgrims Way and headed back across the fields we came across what I have called Sunflower Cottage, buried deep in the quiet lane back to the village.........

I won`t bore you with any more photos but please click on them for better images.  But I hope you agree that even if there are countless things to do on a Bank Holiday the glories of the English countryside in all its high summer splendour really do take some beating.

So much football - so little time.   Where to begin?   Well, it`s a curious thing Saturday - as a Saints fan I am invariably glad when it`s all over so that I can put the anxieties away for another few days  but now and again a Saturday comes along that lifts the inbred gloom.  It doesn`t happen very often but yesterday was one of those days when the gloom is lifted by a win in the Premier League and I make the most of it by watching Match of the Day, recording the Sky highlights, buying the Sunday paper and scouring the internet for anything and everything that will confirm a precious victory as being real rather than an illusion dreamt up in the middle of the night.

And it all gets me wondering why I have this penchant for supporting struggling footnall teams.  Maybe I was born to it when my father took me along to The Dell to watch my first Southampton game in 1946: I was seven at the time and I still remember the game - Saints 4- Derby County 2.  So, from an early age, not for me the glory, the pomp and circumstance of supporting a `big club` but rather taking it for granted that my local club has accepted me as one of its fans.

And I suppose that might be why I also follow other struggling - or at least `interesting` - clubs if only to comfort myself with the notion that there are worse clubs than the Saints.  Clubs like Truro City. Fort William, Forest Green Rovers, Maidstone United, Gillingham and more recently Wimbledon.   There are other reasons, such as:-

Truro City :  based in deepest Cornwall, now relegated to the Southern League South Division but still having to make heroic journeys to away matches.  Yesterday, for example, they not only made the long joutney to Chesham in Hertfordshire but also had to fight their way through the Cornwall-bound holiday traffic.   It`s a wonder they made the  mile 560 mile round trip at all , only to come away with a narrow defeat which saw them drop from top of the league to third.   Still, it`s a long way to go - literally.

Fort William of the Scottish Highland League have a growing audience thanks to Facebook and other `social` media outlets.  They too make long journeys throughout the northern reaches of Scotland and invariably get defeated - last season they finished bottom of the league again with a goal difference of minus 226!  But this year looks a little more encouraging - only losing 6-3 away to Fraserburgh yesterday.

Forest Green Rovers have grown from a small village club deep in the Cotswolds of Gloucestershire to become a force in League Two, where they now rest in third place.  There rise has been admirable, thanks to their idiosyncratic owner who is into things green big time.  

Maidstone United are my local club - one I have followed for over half a century with mixed fortunes and it is where I took my sons to introduce them to the world of  football banter as we followed them from the old Gola League all the way up to the old Division Four of the Football League and back down again.

I watch Gillingham`s progress for two reason really.  One is that my neighbour is a passionate fan who has a season ticket at Priestfield and the other reason is that some years ago he and I went to see the Gills play the Saints in the days when Southampton were languishing in League One minus 10 points.  It was a miserable experience - the Saints lost and I got soaked through sitting in the open topped away stand.  

As for Wimbledon, they only feature because they currently have our street`s local hero Scott ("Buzzin` Six-Pack ") Wagstaff not only plying his trade as a pacy flanker in their ranks but he was actually captain of the team earlier in the week when they lost 2-1 at Ipswich, before losing 3-1 yesterday away at Sunderland.  Both difficulr places to go to though.

So it`s not all about glory, winning trophies, having bragging rights and all that.  It`s about waiting patiently in the uncertain hope that now and again a result will come along that makes a Saturday enjoyable and makes the week ahead that little bit easier to bear.  Which reminds me - Saints have Manchester United at home next week.  Nurse!!!!

NEW TRAGEDY, OLD MEMORIES...

Like everyone else, I was so very sorry - and not a little angry - at the senseless murder of PC Andrew Harper just the other day and it goes without saying that mine and everyone else`s sympathies go out towards his young widow, his wider family and his friends.

Can I also mention then horrific rail crash that happened in 2004 when seven people, including the train driver, were killed.

Now we often hear people say, when tragedy strikes, that "it`s not the sort of thing that happens around here."  But surely things like the two I have mentioned above really  should not happen in a peaceful, out-of-the-way hamlet deep in the Berkshire countryside.   But sadly both occurred at Ufton Nervet - the rail crash at the level crossing over Ufton Lane and PC Harper`s murder at the junction of Ufton Lane with the A4 Bath Road.

Many, many years ago my grandparents on my father`s side of the family had a bakery business where bread was prepared and baked on an old wood oven - the stacks of wood (bavins) would be put int the oven, set alight and then the ashes would be removed for the bread to be put in to bake.   The bakery was at Padworth Common just a couple of miles from Ufton and the bread and other provisions from the adjoining family shop were delivered by a van around the local villages not only Ufton but also Padworth itself, Silchester, Burghfield and Mortimer.

During school holidays I used to be dispatched to stay with my grandparents and I used to go on the delivery rounds and help out.  My uncle Les would do the deliveries around Silchester and Ufton and my aunt would do the others.   So I know those villages so well and the recent news surrounding Ufton brought back memories of being on the bread van, driving up Ufton Lane, over the level crossing, over the Kennet bridge and stopping at the scene you see above.  The nice house on the left in the picture above was in those days a pub - the Dog and Partridge - where my uncle used to rest awhile whilst transactions took place involving  bread and  liquid refreshment.

A little further up the road there was Fred Monger`s cottage - he was an old gamekeeper and used to work for the nearby Elizabethan Ufton Court and by the time we had delivered the bread there, we knew that the delivery round was just about finished for another day.

And all those  years ago the village of Ufton was always quiet, peaceful, steeped in the ways of rural life - the sort of place where nothing untoward ever happened.  Or at least it used to be.

.......and just as well  too.   About ten days ago I dreamt that my beloved Saints would go to Burnley and get the new Premiership season off to a cracking start with a 3-1 win.  That didn`t happen of course as we lost 3-0.  But still the dreams lived on and I wondered whether today`s  encounter with Champions League winners Liverpool might provide an upset and see Saints win their first home game of the season by a late goal.   That didn`t happen of course as we lost 2-1 to end up 18th in the table.

Now I know it`s early days - 36 games to go and all that - but already the signs are there that we are in for yet another of our perennial struggles.  It seems we played pretty well but once again were let down by mistakes at the back by defenders - who cannot be named for legal reasons - and by an attacking force which more and more resembles a powder puff.   A friend who was at the game suggested that the difference between the two sides was that Liverpool had Sadio Mane and we had Danny Ings - despite the fact that each of them scored against their former clubs.   And of course Liverpool had the luxury of fielding Van Dyke, Oxtail-Chamberlain and Mane, along with Lallana on the bench - all purloined from Southampton.

But our whizz bang manager, Ralph ("Klopp of the Alps") Hasenhuttl is encouraged by the performance, if not the result.  He thought we might have got something from the game but, as ever, show me a good loser and I`ll show you a loser.  Never mind - there`a all to play for.  Next up = Brighton away, now managed by former Saints player Gtaham Potter, in what might already be a must win six pointer.  

So are we depressed, disappointed, anxious, worried, on the verge of nervous breakdowns?  Well, maybe not quite yet, for we take comfort in Hot Chocolate and still believe in miracles.

In my other footy news - Forest Green Rovers are riding high in League Two, Maidstone are comfortably in mid-rable, the Gills had their match called off thanks to Bury`s financial problems, Fort William lost (of course) but this time by the only goal in a 1-0 home defeat to fellow strugglers Keith and Truro City romped home to a 1-0 win over Swindon Supermarine to go top of the Southern League Division South.

So there are miracles to be found if you know where to look and I for one am convinced that one will come the way of the Saints and we finish 17th at the end of the season.  You heard it here first.

SEEN BUT NOT HEARD ?

There`s something odd going on - and has been for a while now.  Some time ago I had a bit of a dig at Meghan and all her works and I said at the time that there was something not quite right about all that.   And I feel too that there is something not quite right about one Greta Thunberg - the self-appointed 16-year old Swedish `activist.`

Over recent months she has gained a load of publicity for her campaign about climate change - an audience with Westminster politicians, suggestions of a Nobel Prize and general adulation for her alleged spirit and determination to get her message across to what she perceives as a world that isn`t listening to what she has to say.

And now she is apparently embarking on a two week crossing of the Atlantic in a solar powered boat which exists purely without any form of power whatsoever, relying on the elements to make the crossing whilst those on board have to make do without a kitchen and even what is known in nautical terms as `a head` - just a bucket perched in a discreet corner of the deck.  At the end of the journey she is due to address a climate change conference at the UN no less, where  no doubt she will encourage yet more `action` to build on the school strikes which swept the country here a few weeks ago.  

A couple of things strike me as `not quite right` here.  For example, I`m intrigued how she managed to get from Sweden to Plymouth - where her Atlantic voyage began - without at least producing perhaps a smidgen of carbon and how she might get home from America again without using just a morsel of the planet`s resources.  ( I see that in order to get to the solar powered yacht anchored off Plymouth, she had to go via petrol driven dinghy.  Not the most convincing start I guess.)  I didn`t think she looked too happy - very morose, looking a  bit grumpy - hardly inspiring but who can blame her with what lies ahead?

Then there is my old skool bewilderment that someone of her tender years is taken as seriously as she is, to the point whereby she seems to have developed almost  a religious following  with world leaders, opinion formers and such like bending over backwards to be associated with her  mission in life, presumably for fear of being criticised if they do not.   There was a time when 16-year olds tended to content themselves with learning about life, gaining experiences and leaving the troubles of the world for the older generation to sort out.  Not any more it seems.

But in my undying quest to find balance and reason in all things,I`m reminded of a couple of quotes which might provide a little balance to my scepticism - Oscar Hammerstein`s line from `The King and I` -"If you become a teacher, by your pupils you`ll be taught"`  Or even.......

It`s all a bit weird - can`t quite get my head around it all - but something not quite right somewhere?

So, here we go again.   After a few precious weeks not having to worry about football results, the bandwagon is back on the road and will be with us for the next nine months or so.  As if I haven`t got enough to worry about already, what with Brexit, climate change (aka global warming,) deforestation and plastic I now have to concern myself week in, week out with how my varied football interests are progressing.

And guess what - it seems to be the same old story of keen anticipation leading only to crushed expectations, bewilderment, disappointment and confusion.  Starting with Southampton, after an encouraging pre-season, a whizzo manager now settled in and some new signings we Saints fans were all set for a dramatic start to the Premier League season away at Burnley.  I suppose it was predictable that Saints would lose 3-0 thanks to inept defending and equally inept attacking.  Same old story - even if Turf Moor is a difficult place to go to.

Elsewhere, my Gillingham supporting neighbour - the well known error of judgement - went to Priestfield yesterday only to see a home defeat to Burton Albion.  Same old story even after a motorway dash to ensure he arrived home in time for the game.

But some consolation was found in the victories for Truro City, recently relegated to the Southern  League South Division, who made the 500-mile round trip to West Byfleet in Surrey where they got their campaign off to a winning start by defeating Metropolitan Police 2-0. ( One does wonder whether it is ever good tactics to beat the Met. Police.)  And then there was Maidstone United, recently relegated to the National League South, who made the trip to Hungerford in Berkshire and came away with an encouraging 3-1 win.

But perhaps the most encouraging result was Fort William only losing 2-0 away at Strathspey Thistle.  The Fort might already be bottom of the Highland League but it has to be good news for them that they have so far avoided the double figure defeats they suffered last season.   For them, for the Saints, the Gills and all the others contributing to my burgeoning mental health issues, the only way is up.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE.....

.......that is the question.   A couple of days ago I attended the Day Eye Clinic at Maidstone Hospital for the removal of a cataract from my left eye and to have a prosthetic implant to take its place.   It all went very well and once again I have bem very impressed with our wonderful National Health service.   The caring attitude of staff and  the skill of the eye surgeon and support staff was exemplary and I am sincerely grateful for and pleased with the results.   

The difference in my eyesight - at least in that one eye (the other one will be done next month) - has been a revelation.  Things that I could barely see before are now sharp, bright and in focus.  I have to be careful what I do for probably the next few weeks while I adjust to a new way of seeing with one eye that`s working well and the other one not so good.  

 I`ve already discovered that it`s not a good idea to drive a large(ish) car into a small(ish) garage  and not expect to pick up the odd dent in the bodywork.  But, hey ho, a small problem set against the enormous benefit of being able to see properly once more.

There`s quite a business to go through - a check up to see that the operation was completely successful, I`ll need some new glasses of course and the prospect of going through the whole thing again with the other eye is something I just want to get done .  In the meantime until my eyes are fully adjusted and I have my new spectacles (which could be some weeks away) I might just struggle a bit with small print, so if my posts on here are not as regular as usual, that`s the reason for it.  But I`ll keep trying and hope each day brings the improvement I am looking forward to.

I suppose if you can read this and it makes a bit of sense then perhaps my latest venture into posting on here might have worked.    

A LOCAL VISIT...

As a break from all the trouble and strife of the world, had another visit to the local village of Birling, nestling beneath the North Downs here in deepest Kent.   

Now Birling is one of those archetypal English country villages where you can spend a fortnight in an afternoon.  It has a long history with the Church and Manor being recorded in the Domesday Book and like many of the villages around here, Birling has its own village sign - pictured above.

It has a couple of claims to fame - one genuine, the other less so.  The genuine one is that the churchyard includes the grave of one of the country`s best admired and most prolific artists in Rowland Hilder.  He spent some of his early years with his grandparents in Birling and, as he himself recalled, "It seemed miles from anywhere.  Even the people living in the next village to us, Ryarsh, were considered as foreigners."  See more about him here - http://www.artnet.com/artists/rowland-hilder/

Local myth has grown over the years concerning the speech given by President John F Kennedy in 1963 in which, despite local claims, he did not say, "Ich bin ein Birlinger."

Anyway, here are a few photos I took, along with the one at the top, on my recent visit - please click on the photos for better images........

The Lychgate

Birling Park Farm

Away from it all

Harvest time

MORE TO HIM....

Over the years in these pages I have recorded memories of cricketing heroes who have left us - Derek Shackleton, Bob Woolmer, Harold Gimblett, David Sheppard, Trevor Bailey, Arthur Morris, Bernard Hedges, Brian Langford, Alec Bedser....the list is quite a long one and if you are so minded you can find them by clicking on the list of labels (down a bit and to the right) for `cricket` or `obituaries.`

And so, whilst all the clamour and razzmatazz of the recent World Cup and the current Ashes series ring loudly in our hearts, minds and ears I was saddened to learn of the passing of Malcolm Nash.  

Now Malcolm will always be remembered, of course, for the time when Sir Garfield Sobers took six sixes off him in one over for Nottinghamshire against Nash`s Glamorgan at Swansea in 1968 - the first time that feat was achieved in first class cricket.   But there was much more to Malcolm Nash who played for Glamorgan with great distinction between 1966 and 1983, taking 993 first class wickets and was Glamorgan`s leading wicket taker when they won the county championship in 1969.  As well as excelling as a left arm bowler, he was also a useful batsman, scoring over 7,000 runs.

It seems almost tragically ironic that Malcolm dies suddenly whilst attending a cricket function at Lord`s Cricket Ground on Tuesday but he will be mourned as a true legend of Glamorgan and a true gentleman of the game.   Tributes have quite rightly been pouring in, but perhaps the most touching has come from Sir Garfield himself.   He said, "He was a good friend of mine and we always kept that friendship."

Sobers recalled how Nash kept his sense of humour, despite him being hit for those six sixes. "We were asked to go up and be interviewed afterwards and I saw Malcolm smiling.  I asked him what he was smiling about and he told me, "Gary, I want you to know that you could not have achieved that without me."

It kind of sums up Malcolm Nash the man and the cricket world is much the poorer for his leaving.

THE DEATH OF ROMANCE ?

I hope I`m wrong and that reports of the death of yet another romance are premature.  You see, as a bit of a romantic myself, apart from my undying devotion to Southampton FC, I have long followed the fortunes of less  fashionable or successful football clubs.  These include Truro City, Forest Green Rovers and most notably Fort William of the Scottish Highland League.

It has indeed been a romantic journey following the misfortunes of The Fort, who have graced the Highland League for 20 years, 14 of which they have finished bottom of the league.  The last four seasons have been especially `interesting` as they have ended in that position each time having failed to win a game in all of those matches, last season finishing with a goal difference of minus 221. 

Purists might say that things cannot go on like that - romantics like me hope they might as The Fort represent all that is good in sport - the taking part, the determination, the dedication to the cause and the wishful thought that one bright day things might just be a little, well, brighter. 

But now the illusion has been broken, the romance of rejoicing in unending struggle has been dented, as yesterday they won a football match.  Yes, they actually won one.  They triumphed 5-2 against Nairn County in a North of Scotland Cup game, thus ending a 73-game winless run stretching back 840 days.  Before this win, their last victory came four campaigns ago when they defeated Strathspey Thistle 4-1.

Maybe The Fort are really on the up and for their sake I hope it`s true.   And us romantics will still avidly follow their results in the coming league season and continue to support them via their excellent Facebook page and other platforms even if a little of the romance may have died. I might have to follow Nairn County as well this coming season ?