En-gal-lund part 4

Mick being the most organized and conscientious man alive, set the alarm for 6am local time..he figured that if he set his alarms and kept his body clock closely aligned to Australian time he would suffer less jet lag, it was either genius or OCD.

After a quick shower we strolled the sights of London, making our way past Buckingham Palace, Harrods, Big Ben and many other famous landmarks capturing photo's as we went. We walked past a statue and I noticed a security type figure patrolling the area with an eagle on a leash taped to his arm, when I asked what was its purpose Mick told me that because of the pigeon plague in London the eagle scared them away thus leaving the statue pigeon shit free. It was an enjoyable morning and after a continental breakfast in Michael's plush hotel, I made my way back to Croydon for yet another game of cricket.

I caught up with Menace and he chauffeured me to the game, it was a beautiful day for cricket and the first time I'd celebrated my birthday in summer. The wicket was a cracker and our skipper won the toss and we made first use of the conditions. I was batting fourth wicket down and after an impressive spell by their opening bowler I was out in the middle at 4/40 odd, as I made my way out I heard a cheeky snigger about my performances to date. I made my way to the crease and took 11 balls to get off the mark before getting one over pitched which I gratefully hammered over mid off for four (a by product of the Nuffield sixes the week before). I then proceeded to scratch around to about 50 odd with a few decent shots in between, once I got to fifty I attempted a cheeky reverse sweep but put it in the kit bag after copping it on the forearm. From then on I hit my last fifty off just 19 balls, I have never before or since hit the ball as cleanly, the standard of the opposition wasn't brilliant but I was still ecstatic to finish on 111* of 107 rocks. It was also enjoyable to share a partnership with menace valued at 79...of which he hit nine!!

In the field I took a catch, was involved in a run out and snared three sneaky wickets, happy birthday Mr Wheatley!! After the game we headed to sanctity of the chip shop clubhouse where I was informed that I would be shouting everyone a beer to celebrate my hundred, surely it must be the other way around!? I thought they must have been joking....they weren't!! It was well worth it however and I went to bed that night very pleased with my birthday weekend, it would be one that I wouldn’t be forgetting in a while.

Showing up to work the next day is always a sobering prospect after a weekend like I'd just had and it was back to listening to poms whinge about their over priced auto mobiles failing them. I worked in the Premiere Auto Group section which handled vehicles from such prestigious brands as Aston Martin (the car that James bond chaperoned his sexy lady companions around in), Jaguar and Landrover.

Dealing with the Aston Martin customers was a breeze, when their car broke down it was just a matter of organizing a technician to visit the site. When offered the option of a hire car which was standard in their cover they would simply reply 'nah that's ok, I'll just drive the Merc or the Beamer today.' Wouldn’t it be nice to have the luxury of that kind of money!?

The Jaguar customers were not so pleasant, often a screen would pop up when the phone rang indicating it was a Jaguar customer I would sigh, take up a deep breath and answer the call and more often than not it would be some rude posh twat on the other end of the call!!

These three brands had recently been taken over by the auto group Ford, what we knew and what we were allowed the tell the customers was as interesting as it was frustrating. The standard Jag was essentially a glorified Ford Mondeo with plush leather seats and fancy interior trimmings and as such when their cars broke down our first option for a hire car was of course a Ford Mondeo. Well you can imagine that went down about as well as a cheap King’s Cross prossie.. 'a Ford Mondeo!? Do you know who I am!? I'm Sir Lloyd such and such' or 'I am the Lord of stoke on Trent I'm not driving around in the mediocrity of a Ford Mondeo' what I wanted to say and what I was allowed to say were two starkly contrasting things. 'I think you'll find sir that as a replacement car the Mondeo will provide you with what you require to keep you mobile until we get your vehicle back on the road' is what I had to say.... what I would have preferred to say was 'listen Sir Lloyd twat Lord of the c*+#'s, your ridiculously over priced shit heap is actually a Ford Mondeo that's been pimped up by Xzibit and his homie’s, maybe if you earned a bit more dosh you could afford a real car... Like say.... an Aston Martin!?'

Anyway it provided me an income to enjoy my holiday. I was quickly running out of money after enjoying myself and spending a night in 'For Your Eyes Only' an English exotic dancing establishment which I would normally never be interested in visiting except for the fact that it was co-located with a walk about pub and one Friday night after a few Vb's and extra dry's (it was nice to have an Aussie beer sometimes) I spent 170 pounds (at the time it would have equated to over $400 Australian) on the charming and hospitable dancers therein. There was one rather plump Swedish girl who was trying her best to alleviate me of the money in my wallet and when I politely denied her request she retorted with:

Fatty: That would be right, its true what they say about Australians, your all arrogant wankers!!

Taken aback I gathered myself before replying...

Wheats: Sorry chubby.. Obviously it's not true what they say about Swedish women then"

Fatty: and what's that!?

Wheats: that you're all blonde and hot!!

Needless to say she was not pleased...

The other good thing about work was that it was providing me with some fair dinkum pommy colleagues with which to socialize....

En-gal-lund part 3

After a whirlwind entry to the country, it was time to settle into the English culture and find some employment to prolong my stay but not before squeezing in a few more games of cricket. I was looking for work in pubs and clubs or retail which I had been doing for the previous couple of years on Australian soil but found them more elusive to come by than Osama bin laden.

My next game of mid week cricket, proved slightly better than the the first, I hit one decent on drive through midwicket before trying to launch the following delivery into the next postcode... sadly I only managed as far as mid on!! The oval we played at had a foul odour (the only thing that had stunk more up until that point was my cricket) that lingered across the ground, it wasnt until tea that I was informed a sewage plant was stationed near-by... not the ideal location for physical exertion. After tea I watched the oppositions over sea's player go about his work.... he only scored 40 odd but he was prepared to bat for extended periods and I realised I'd just been throwing my wicket away, a habit I'd had for a while. It was enough to inspire me to 'dig in' and be more patient next time.

The following game, I was up against the might of Chipstead in the President's day game...I had been given a spot in the visitor's side which normally comprises of ex-chippies, former international's and opposition who had built a rapport with this incredibly friendly cricketing village. I was keen to show them that I could play a bit and was better than my previous efforts and hoping to do it against rather than for them on this occasion.

The Chippies had a few handy players up there sleeve including a young buck playing for a spot in the Essex under 19's squad by the name of Chris Sterling or 'Sterlo' as he was affectionately known. He was a great kid who listened intently and we often talked cricket and I tried to impart some of my experience to date on to him (one theory I was throwing around at the time was 'owning the zone' but Ill go into that more later.) Anyway the 'chippers' won the toss and threw us into bat and I opened the innings, one of the more pleasant idiosyncrasies English grounds provide are tree's (normally only one large oak tree) which are allowed to grow in the outfield. Every club has thier own rules relating to thiers, some are dead ball, others are six on the full etc... so it's best to ask around before you get on to the pitch. So it was very pleasing to bring up my first runs on chipstead soil by cutting one into the outfield and watching it roll up the trunk of the great oak flourishing at backward point, picking up four bikkies along the way.

Unfortunately young 'Sterlo' got me soon after with a late outswinger which was his trademark nicking into the slips cordon, whilst being slightly annoyed I was happy to go to the young fella. One thing I was not doing was owning the zone.

Late in the Australian summer I had developed a strategy in conjunction with legendary westies left arm ortho Mark Hatton of protecting my stumps, as it is roughly 70% of batting. I drew an imaginery line about 6 inches outside the off stump and anything outside of that line I left alone, but anything within that line including on my pads marked 'my zone' and being in complete control of that area. It seemed to work in the last game of the season where I managed 79* against a very strong ANU first grade line up after I had struggled badly throughout the season against much weaker teams with a highest previous score of 36.

Lunch time was an incredible feast with many tales of Presidents day gone by.... one of the better ones was of a fast bowling chap who was invited to take part for the opposition for the day. One of the more experienced Chipstonians challenged the most dangerous of the 'oppo' to a drinking competition during the lunch interval. I could understand the young fella's thinking 'how much damage can you do over a 40 minute period!?'  Over the course of lunch they managed to get through 2 pints of lager and a couple of quick ports, those who have experienced the hard hitting fortified wine know it can pack a punch rivaling a youthful Mike Tyson. The big fast bowler made it out to the field, got through a couple over before feeling a bit dry and requested a jug of water at his quarters down at fine leg. The 'chippies' pounced quickly filling a huge jug (comparatively it must be able to handle three pints) with not only water but also six shots of vodka. Down at fine leg the thirsty trundler knocked back half the jug without blinking an eye, three balls later he polished off the rest, after his next over he was lay sprawled across the boundary line KO'd and unable to take part in the rest of the game.... Well played Chippies, well played!!

Back in my game, we had an Ex Kiwi international floating around in our side but at the age of 46 was well past his best. Still I was keen to impress and as I have a tendency to do, over thought things in the field and put in another embarrassing display... still it was hard not to enjoy a day like this one, the social side of cricket in England is incredible and something I wish could be replicated down under.

Off the field things were looking up, Menace had lined up an interview at his work for Mondial Assistance a company similar to the NRMA in Australia. How bad could it be listening to whining poms whinge incessantly about their poshed up cars breaking down!?

On the Monday we had a tournament called the Nutfield 6's, a great competition built around two of my favourite things slogging sixes and emptying pints.... sounded like my perfect day and the following week was the 25th anniversary of my date of birth!!

I was pumped for the 'Sixer's' comp and it would be the last day, before I started work (could be dangerous.... and was...) we made our way cracking a beer before we had a chance to crack the first ball of the day. Fielding after a couple of cans was difficult maintaining balance and co-ordination but batting was great. There obviously wasnt much time to build an innings so it was the norm to go after it straight away, whether it was the relaxation of the tinnies onboard or the fact there was very little pressure I managed to hit a few big sixes down the ground and over mid off, not my usual hitting zones but I enjoyed them immensely. Finishing runners up for the day, we proceeded to the bar and ordered a few Pimm's and lemonades, a charming concoction that went down refreshingly well... after one too many it was hometime and off to bed.

Now I dont reccomend starting your first day in a flash new job hungover but I reasoned 'how much can you learn on the first day!?' normally its a bit of orientation and ensuring you know where the lunch room and gent's are. I battled through the first day and week without too much trepidation. I was too busy looking forward to my first trip to London to catch up with my mate Dennis and brother in law for my birthday.



At the curry house for my Bday with Sterlo and a junior.



On the Thursday we headed for a curry with menace"s junior cricket side accompanied by their folks at a local establishment, this was the first time I'd fallen captive to the Indian cuisine. Photos were taken, birthday cake eaten and taste buds burnt to an inch of there existence.

The following day it was off to London town where I caught up with 'The Den', he was one of those friends I mightn't see for years at a time but when we did, we we're straight back where we left off. I remembered he also had a way with the ladies, as we made our way outside kings cross station he noticed an attractive girl in front he deliberately tripped her up, she turned up around sharply and he unleashed a disarming smile, apologized and promptly asked her what she was upto that night... (gee this bloke worked quickly).

Later I caught up with Michael Aspinall who was stopping over after captaining a flight with Qantas and we shared tea at a local pub had a brisk walk around the city before an early night as the next day was shaping to be a busy one...

En-gah-lund (Part 2)

Having spent the previous two days on the piss in the confines of the hotel bar educating my new American friend on Australian slang, I thought it was time I ventured out of my comfort zone to seek a visa to ensure my safe and swift exit from China... after two days and one too many horror stories I was anxious to get out and get out quick. The thing about China is that if you’re on top of your game you embrace the natural buzz of the place and ride with it but when you're not it can suck you in and trample all over you.... at this stage I was feeling the latter.

Apprehensively I made my way to the Visa office with the yank in tow, he had a better command of the language and general local knowledge than I, so he came in handy. For a 'septic tank' he had a very good sense of surroundings, he realised that the world didn’t evolve around him and United States, which is a lot more than I can say for a lot of them... while waiting to be allocated a room by the hotel receptionist, an American woman in front of me was chastising the friendly staff about their lack of communication skills before turning around to me and whining 'I can’t believe these people don’t speak English?'..I thought to myself... 'Are you kidding me? You are in THEIR country you should be making the effort to speak THEIR language'..The epitome of hubris.

Useful as pockets on a pair of underpants!?

On the journey to the Visa office we felt very much the outsiders, I have a feeling our hotel was not placed in the tourism hub of Shanghai.. and as we made our way down the street I felt many eyes watching these pasty skinned, round eyed westerners walking the pavement... more of curiosity than aggression, I saw them murmuring to each other what I can only assume was something along the lines of ‘Hau du dey get dere eye’s opwen so wide!?’. I also happened to notice parents dangling their children ala Michael Jackson style out of windows and over bridges, when I quizzed the 'tank' about their actions; he explained that because many struggle financially under the communist regime they could ill afford nappies. Instead they had pseudo nappies with the crotch and arse cut out of them (pointless really), so whenever nature called it was a matter of whipping 'We-ing Cok' out the window and letting it run down the side of the Toyota.

After brief negotiations with the Visa's office they told me all I needed to do was pay a fine to the Custom's officials and they would let me through the gate (Money talks in any language). I went back to the comfort of the hotel and sadly farewelled the 'tank', we promised to keep in touch but as it was the day’s pre-facebook it was a promised left un-kept. I kept myself occupied the evening before my flight by reading the Holy Gospel, the word according to Stephen Waugh in 'Out of my comfort zone'. An incredible read, as if his unflinching, ruthless style of cricket was not enough, his ability to analyse and compartmentalise not only cricket but life made him an even bigger hero in my eyes.

Eventually my head hit the pillow but not before setting every alarm clock available, leaving the curtains open inviting the morning sun to wake me and having the television on turned up whilst the Chinese version of Australian Idol (it should be Idle Australians) played in the background. If this show was not agonising enough, you should hear this shit in Chinese... Finally I was off in the land of Z's and before I knew it, safely onboard my vessel to the Motherland...

The flight was largely uneventful, it felt surreal to look at the navigation tracking system that maps the planes journey and think that I was flying over places like India, the Middle East and Europe. Finally we hit the tarmac and I said my goodbye's to a lovely American/Chinese tee tolling lass who was studying French in England (work that one out) who accompanied me during the flight. During which she preached to me the evil's of alcohol 'All my friends go out and get wasted and embarrass themselves and yadda yadda yadda... why would you do that to yourself!?' at which point I was too tired to argue the many pluses of the amber fluid 'the lack of inhibition, increase of personality and the improved if somewhat unwarranted self confidence levels' and agreed with a polite but empty 'Yeah.... why would you do that!?'.

We exited the plane and I entered a tin shed to collect my luggage.... not exactly what I had in mind for Heathrow one of the world’s busiest airports. 'Puleease loin up here sir' were the first words I heard spoken in a broad Londoners accent straight out of East Enders as a staffer ushered me into the cue.

Getting through customs, I was picked up by Western Districts and Chipstead legend Mark Ennis, who was sporting a rather ordinary looking 'tach, long before Movember’s popularity. It of course was part of his costume for the long awaited 'Extravaganza' (a night of boozing, dancing and frivolity) which I had made in just a nick of time. All I remember is Matty Boothroyd buying my first English beer (which was made in Japan) and seeing some massive unit (I later found out he was the 'Big Big Jimmy') dressed as Richie Benuad..... THAT IS IT!! Those poms know how to throw a party.

The following day I was woken up by Mennis' mum offering me a cup of tea...'yes please, white and two' was my response. Somebody ludicrously scheduled a cricket game the day following the extravaganza that I was selected to play in. So it was a collection of dusty heads and parched mouths that met outside of the Pavilion. I don’t remember too much about the days play apart from when I walked out to bat a Bangladeshi spin bowler wished me luck on the way to the crease... I was taken aback 'is this bloke having a f*%#en crack or what' by the time I thought of something smart to say back I realised he was genuine... clearly I was not accustomed to these sorts of well wishes in Australia. Approximately four minutes and one run later I made my back past the 'deshi who consoled me with a 'better luck next time... it was almost as bad as being sledged!!

In the field my only memory of worth was a ball being skied my way at mid off, instantly I set off charging into catch the miscued off drive before realising the ball was sailing over my head, quickly I tried my best to rush back but my spikes failed me and I ended up splayed out on the turf only to see the ball land precisely where I was standing whence it was delivered. In the distance I heard some Pom quip 'This is why we now have the ashes'. Filled with embarrassment, the only thing I was looking forward to was the tea interval.

At tea I was surprised somewhat that they actually drank tea, I assumed like in Australia it’s just a 20 minute stop to freshen up and smash some icy cold fluids to rehydrate after spending a few hours in the hot Australian sun but of course the mercury over here has more trouble getting up than a seventy year old war vet.

After whinging and taking the piss out of their tradition I succumbed to their peer pressure and made myself a cup of tea 'but only with milk and sugar, I’m not drinking that black shit' after pouring the tea and applying my sugar I then proceeded to spill what was left of the milk all over the tea room the table leaving me with a boiling hot overly sweetened tea....Brilliant!!

Welcome to England..

1st test V's the Kiwi's

The opening test of the series got the first day of summer underway with the Aussies taking on the sheep shaggers. A new look Australian line up spent the first day in the field with three debutants donning the baggy green for the first time. Openers McCullum and Guptill replaced the velcro gloves for batting gloves and made their way to the crease confronted with the new ball partnership of Pattinson and Siddle. Pattinson impressed with brisk pace and movement in the air and off the deck, while Siddle played role of workhorse with plenty of hustle and bustle, he is a modern day Mervyn Hughes.... without the penchant for Big Macs and salted fries!! He managed to nip out Guptill to Haddin for just 13 runs.

A left handed, darked haired quick named Mitchell came on at first change and praise the lord his last name wasn’t Johnson, that bloke has dished up more loose balls than a swingers party. This Mitchell was a 'Starc' contrast to his namesake bowling with consistent swing and control; his fastest ball clocked 146 on the gun and was delivered from a height. He picked up two fortuitous wickets much in the vane of Johnson caught at point but that shouldn’t diminish his performance, he bowled with swing, pace, lift and most importantly control. He could be a star of the future....

The last prong to the attack was added to the bowling attack just before lunch... The 'Gabba' known as a fast bowlers dream on the first morning of a test was no distraction for Nathan Lyon who came on and impressed with drift, drop, bounce and spin. Like Swann of England he has a knack of dropping the ball out of the sky and exploiting lazy footwork, if he can continue his rapid improvement hopefully we will have a full time fixture in the spin department.

The Kiwi's were reeling before lunch at 5 for around the tonne.... former black cap international Chris Cairns must have gone to lunch eating humble pie after spraying the Aussies and embattled number four batsmen Ricky Ponting earlier in the week at the XXXX beer promotion in Queensland, one can only assume a few too many amber ales had impaired his judgement.

After lunch the Kiwi's staged a gutsy comeback with former skipper Daniel Vettori leading the way, apart from his impressive left arm spin he offers great value down the order with the willow in hand. It took him a while to get his batting career started but with 22 half centuries and six tonnes under his belt he has turned into a genuine all rounder. An all rounders value can be judged on whether their batting average is higher than their bowling average, with figures of 30.27 with the stick and 33.61 with the leather shows his class.

Unfortunately the day was brought to a halt by inclement weather and bad light, hopefully today’s proceedings with brighten up the day!!