More from the newly discovered diary of Jane Austen. Or is
it?
The X1 of Fleet Street v XI of Adelstrop, Daylesford and
Oddington
“I was extremely grateful to escape the hustle and bustle
of Bath. It is impossible to leave the house without incessant questioning on
what my next novel is about, when will it be published etc. Clearly everyone
knows who is behind the pseudonym of “A Lady”. Perhaps I’ll open a museum
selling fancies and haberdashery as worn by “a lady”.
My current project is yet another musing on The Place of
Women in Society and The Need for a Good Marriage. The familiar themes of the
unfairness of male inheritance, marriage proposals, lack of marriage proposals,
misunderstandings of intentions, balls, luncheons and Dark Brooding Men With A
Secret will all be present. If only there was a mechanical device that I could
throw these into with some social satire and crisp dialogue and I could churn
them out every month or so.
“Mansfield Park” is my current undertaking and Uncle Thomas
has kindly invited me to Adelstrop Park so that I can research estate
management, landscape gardening, animal husbandry and the correct typeface for
a lunch invitation.
The last time I came to the Park, I witnessed a cricket
match in action for the first time which I enjoyed greatly. Despite the searing
heat I was pleased to see that The Fleet Street Strollers had returned to do
battle with the local team which combined the villages of Adelstrop, Daylesford
and Oddington (ADO).
The tourists had tumbled out of a variety of mechanised
vehicles and were lounging around listlessly in the sun. Once again they were
victims of a surfeit of wine and beer at both Mrs Patston’s and a local
hostelry on the previous evenings. A thirsty lot indeed. Some were clearly as
dusty as the track leading to the ground.
I managed to quiz Mr Brodbeck on the minutiae of running
such a motley crew as it may come in useful in a future novel. He revealed that
the club had recently celebrated 50 years under his stewardship with a
sumptuous dinner at the home of cricket at Kennington Oval (Mr Lord may demur
on this point).
Many of the same players were present. The young man with
the flowers last year was Mr Trebilcock, referred to his teammates as “Trebli”
or possibly “Dribbli”. He is the much-improved apprentice of the group and
while batting received much encouragement from the sidelines, much of it
unhelpful and contradictory. It transpires that the flowers worked and now he
and his intended are living together in sin. They have bought A Bed, a sure
sign of commitment indeed.
Mr Pittams of the flowing locks and hint of chest hair is
the archetype of the Dark Brooding Man With A Secret that I used for my Darcy,
a popular character among my female readers (and some male, Lord Byron, was
particularly keen). I have resisted a Darcy sequel, though I hear that
unscrupulous scribblers are selling erotic Darcy fan fiction on the seedier
bookstalls in London.
My good friend Emily in Haworth is struggling with such a
character for her novel “Wily Windy Moor” and with a few tweaks could adapt the
persona. Maybe make him psychotic and out for revenge. That title will not do,
however.
The captain once again was Mr Oliver. Even he eschewed
running around in the heat in preparation. He did celebrate winning the toss as
if he had won the sucking pig raffle in a Smithfield pub. The Strollers were
cheered as batting first kept most out of the sun for a while.
The following report is very much due to the splendid work
of Mrs Patston and her coloured pencils illustrating her complicated ledger.
She is also an expert on the best places to buy cheese in Somerset and the
importance of maintaining a record of all the meals prepared for guests. I can
only concur - the number of veal pies that I have had to endure. Her scoring
companion insisted on using a device that stored the numbers “in the cloud”
which sounds like country superstition of the highest order. I expect my good
friend Mr Faraday at the Royal Society will agree.
The captain and Mr Rogers strode out confidently to bat.
However, the combination of fine bowling by The Village and variable bounce
made batting tricky. Mr Rogers was soon back in the changing hut. Mr Oliver was
joined by Mr Shah and the two managed to defy the quirks of the pitch to
accumulate runs. Nearly 80 runs were on the board when Mr Oliver was caught for
42 runs, much to his chagrin.
Mr Trebilcock staved off the bowlers but was eventually
bowled for five runs, followed by Mr Shah for 33, the latter innings containing
some fine shots indeed. Mr Mangham, sporting a large-brimmed bonnet, took a
no-nonsense approach with some country-style smiting.
Getting pinker and more tired by the minute, he was turning
down the opportunity to run twos, despite encouragement from those sitting
comfortably in the shade. He was eventually run out for a well-made 30 trying
for a second, thus proving he was right all along. When he dragged himself off,
he was described as the deep magenta of a new army uniform.
Mr Pittams, so successful in the previous year, was left
until late in the order, having made a hundred the previous day. He was left
unbeaten as wickets fell around him and the innings concluded at 161 in the 35
overs.
During a generous tea, the consensus was that the total was
defendable if the Strollers bowled well on a very helpful wicket.
Mr Shah is from the funeral business and was soon digging
the graves of the village batsmen who were dismissed by a combination of good
bowling and unwise choices of shot. The first wicket was the result of a
splendid catch by Mr Dela Rue (otherwise “The Lord”) who parried the ball at
close quarters before holding on to the rebound. Others followed quickly
including the captain who lobbed his first ball in the direction of Mr Hodgson
nearby. Time stood still as he, strapped up and hampered by injury, fell to the
ground gradually and then all at once, emerging triumphantly with the ball in
his hand.
Mr Broster-Turley, who had been showing off his muscles in
a sleeveless top earlier – allegedly to distract from his receding hairline – had
opened the bowling downhill. The ball was deviating all over the place and he
eventually got reward with a couple of wickets for six runs.
Mr Shah’s return of five wickets for seven runs was
surpassed only by Mr Macaulay the previous day who had lured five to their doom
for a mere six runs. The figures may be similar but the methods are very
different.
Such was the carnage that eight wickets had fallen for only
18 runs and the village record was about to be broken. Messrs Shah and
Broster-Turley were removed from the attack and replaced by Mr Dela Rue and Mr
Macaulay (the latter keen to get rid of the halo of midges that he had
attracted) and they duly wrapped up proceedings for 30 runs in total. In the
heat “a short game is a good game” by all accounts and so the teams fell upon
cold ale with enthusiasm.
The Strollers piled into their vehicles and headed mostly
back to London, happy with a good weekend’s work on the field and off it. I’m
told that a couple were later spotted relieving themselves by the side of the
main highway. Those bright green shorts can be seen from furlongs away.
My publisher has suggested that my next project be an epic
study of provincial life, possibly by adopting a male nom de plume. He even
thinks 800 pages would do it justice. Frankly no-one is going to be reading
that in 200 years.
What I would really like to start on is a story about a mad
doctor who constructs a living monster our of stolen body parts and harnessed
lightning. There’s a couple of resurrection men in Edinburgh that may be able
to help with research.
Capt: Glen Oliver. Wkt: Steve Rogers.
Match report: Alastair Macaulay.
