Getting ready for the England v India Test at Headingley
MONDAY, JUNE 16
The wicket at Headingley is being prepared for the First Test against India, which starts Friday. Our room – The Michael Vaughan Room at Headingley Lodge – overlooks the cricket field, and in 48 hours or so the room will be converted into a corporate suite along with all the other rooms on this level. There is a Rob Burrow mural in a street near the ground, a tribute to the former Great Britain and Leeds ‘ Rugby League star who died from MND. Burrow was a favourite of fans at the Headingley rugby league stadium, which adjoins the cricket arena. The train my wife, Marie and I board for Taunton in Somerset, leaves on time and travels through Sheffield, Birmingham and Bristol.
Our Taunton apartment is advertised as ‘luxury’, but doesn’t really fit the description. It will do. We dine at Cosy Club restaurant opposite the Mecca Bingo Hall which hosted the Beatles in 1963, when it was the Gaumont Palace Cinema.
TUESDAY, JUNE 17
After a walk around Longrow Meadow, Marie and I enjoy morning tea at The Weir Cafe where a waitress asks if we want Marmite on our scones. Is nothing sacred! We enjoy drinks in the Hideout Pub on Castle Green while watching races from Royal Ascot. Later we walk in beautiful Vivary Park where Taunton Dean Cricket Club players are turning up for practice ahead of a game against Frome.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18
A mate from way back, Frank Kennedy rocks up in his old Land Rover as Marie and I prepare to catch a bus from Taunton to Minehead. Instead we cram into the front seat of Frank’s pride and joy, me in the middle with the gear stick between my legs (no jokes please). Frank, a former bricklayer from Widnes, is keen for a swim – and a gelato – so we drive to Watchet Harbour, which, like Minehead, is on the Bristol Channel. Frank bombs out on both counts. The waters of the Bristol Channel are uninviting, and the seafront vendors only sell ice cream. I didn’t know there was a difference. Instead, we have a drink at 16thC Bell Inn where we talk about the brutality of rugby league, a game we both played, me for Brothers Murwillumbah, Wingham, Brothers Brisbane and Norths Brisbane; Frank for a few clubs in England’s north as well as amateur clubs in London. Frank, an uncompromising front rower in his day, regrets some of the punishment he dished out. I got to know Frank when he was on a working holiday in Australia in 1973-74, and he moved into a flat previously occupied by my Murwillumbah Brothers’ captain-coach, Brian Atherton, another Widnesian. Frank is a long distance swimmer of some renown, and made a number of appearances as a fitness instructor on the Michael Parkinson television show, when Frank lived in London. He now lives in Spain, but also has property in Gloucestershire, where he has been in recent weeks.
Back In Taunton, Marie and I search for an Indian restaurant. The first place is deserted – not a good sign – so we walk out; the second that I Googled – Blue Mango – is permanently shut. Instead we dine at Deck House Bar and Restaurant, where the food is ordinary and overpriced to buggery. An Indian couple at a table next to us don’t talk at all to their little boy who is with them, which seems weird.
THURSDAY, JUNE 19
Cricket at Taunton’s beautiful home ground is the reason we are staying here and tonight Somerset host Hampshire in the T20 Blast. But first we walk the 7.5km Cotlake Hill Circuit, which takes us through the village of Trull, and then up Cotlake Hill, past apple orchards. In Trull we visit All Saints Church where is a tribute to Lieut. Colonel John Mills, who fought with the Royal Scots Greys at the Battle of Waterloo. We enjoy lunch at Winchester Arms (fish and chips moi; broccoli and Stilton soup Marie). I enjoy a pint of Hanlon’s ale from Devon while Marie has a local Sheppy Cider – Somerset is the home of cider. The pub is a real gem, and hosts lots of activities. There are a number of cricket photos, one of the coin toss before an England v South Africa Test at Lords in 1994, with Michael Atherton the England skipper and Kepler Wessels in charge of the tourists. I was Kepler’s ghost writer for his column in Brisbane’s Telegraph newspaper in the mid-1980s when he played for Queensland and Australia.
There is a carnival atmosphere at the cricket, with live music and food and drink carts. Marie has her first Pimms of the trip. A lady at reception in the….. Stand is “Ex-BrisVegas”, and has been here many years after marrying an Englishman. Spectators seated near us know their cricket and are great company, their West Country accents making it sound like we are among a group of pirates. A group of blokes sing ‘Cheerio, Cheerio, Cheerio’ as a Hampshire batsman finally walks after disputing the umpire’s decision. The crowd appears to be entirely Anglo-Saxon, although lads handing out the scorecards as we entered the stadium are all from the sub-continent. It seems people of Indian/Pakistani descent come out in huge numbers if ‘their national’ side is touring, but don’t support domestic cricket. If they were real cricket fans – and if they are assimilating (a dirty word, I know) they would get along to these County games. Somerset win convincingly with Cambridge born Will Smeed top scoring with 68. England rep. James Vince top scores for Hampshire with 54. Medium pacer, Benny Howell (Hampshire) is the most economical of the bowlers with 2/12 from three overs. Born in Bordeaux, France, Howell has had a stint with Melbourne Renegades in Australia’s Big Bash.
Marie and I enjoy one drink at crowded Ring of Bells near the ground. Everything is so well organised with a greeter walking us to a table and taking drink orders. Great idea, given the bar is quite small, and it would be a shit fight getting a drink. Marie knocks over her cider, but the lass who serves us (Rachael) brings a replacement without asking for money. I tuck into a pint bitter from a brewery in Bristol.
FRIDAY, JUNE 20
My last coffee from The Weir Cafe is excellent. A mum pushing her toddler in a pram remarks to her little lad that the cuddly toy she is retrieving from a hedge did not jump there by itself. As I cross French Weir (over the River Tone) back to our apartment a large lady comments to a friend that she was into bridge jumping in her younger days. I let that one go through to the keeper.
Our train to Paddington in London leaves on time. There is one (white) family group on the train who would be described as Bogan back in the Australia, although in this case that might be too generous a term. In a seat near us there is a bloke wearing an Australian Parliamentary Sports Club polo. Marie and I get a tube from Paddington to Victoria to catch a British Rail service to the medieval town of Faversham in Kent. Rail staff, all of West Indian descent, prove so friendly and helpful.
In Faversham we book into 16thCentury Sun Inn, where we also dine, sharing calamari and ham pie. Our room is spacious, inviting and fitted with all mod-cons, although it looks like something out of the 13thc Century, which is fair enough, given the building was completed in 1396. Records show that Elias Stopple was the first publican when the building started serving ale in 1608. The current publican is Brendan McBride who has been here since 2008.After dinner we walk to Faversham Creek for drinks at The Quay (bar and restaurant), where we strike up a conversation with two down-to-earth blokes. One, born in Hong Kong, is a lorry driver, while the other (born in Newcastle-on-Tyne) is a fitter and turner. I enjoy pints of ale from Dorking in Surrey, while Marie tucks into local gin.
SATURDAY, JUNE 21
At breakfast in the Sun Inn an American remarks that anyone who doesn’t have brown sauce with their hot food is a Philistine.
The reason we are staying in Kent is to catch up with Maggie Dobson and family. Maggie (maiden name Heyburn) and my sister, Kerri, met on a coach tour of Europe in 1975 and struck up a friendship which endured until Kerri passed away in 2006. Marie and I first met Maggie and her late husband, Paul in 1978 during our first visit to the UK. Maggie and her partner, Tony Kriehn have come up from Dover and we enjoy morning tea at Creek Creative, a not-for-profit art centre which also has a lovely cafe. Tony supports Chelsea in the Premier League, and has done so since 1970.
We move down to Standard Quay, where there are bars, restaurants and retail outlets. We are joined by Maggie’s son, Jared and his partner, Amy who have been on a ‘park run’. It is the hottest day of the year, which is probably fitting seeing it is the longest day of the year. After we farewell the Dover crew, Marie and I adjourn to the Phoenix pub where we enjoy a drink along with pork bites and calamari, sitting outside on the footpath. A passer-by stops after spotting my Queensland State of Origin polo. He is a former Australian diplomat, who lives here in Faversham with his English wife, who he met when based in Bonn, Germany. In Australia he lived in the Balmain area of Sydney and naturally he follows the Tigers in the NRL.
SUNDAY, JUNE 22
Wake to the news the USA has bombed Iran. Our resident American is commenting on how ridiculous it is that Derby is also pronounced ‘Darby’.
Pipe smoking (but not while driving) Lionel Kipling is our cabbie to Belmont House, where retired detective, Stephen Coates takes us on a tour of the 18th Century mansion located in Kent’s beautiful North Downs. Stephen is a war historian and cricket lover, and proves an excellent guide. Belmont House was in the hands of the Harris family for around 200 years, with one particular Lord Harris taking a cricket side to Australia in 1878-79. They were billed as ‘The Gentlemen of England’. As luck would have it, there is a cricket match taking place on the field here at Belmont House, with the local side playing the village of Eastling. The players on both sides are white, the exception of one Pakistani. I saw a cab parked near the ground, and sure enough, it’s his. We see one wicket fall – a caught and bowled.
On our return to Faversham we have one drink at ‘The Creeker’s’ craft brewery bar – Oyster Stout in my case, Kent Cider for my better half. After a rest and a freshen up, we venture out into the evening sunshine for a walk past the Shepherd Neame Brewery, the oldest still operating brewery in England. I was introduced to Shepherd Neame ales by Maggie Dobson’s late husband, Paul who rated them the best in the UK. Marie and I visit the excellent Bear pub for farewell drinks to this delightful town. As the barman pours a Whitstable Bay Pale Ale he tells me has an 80-year-old relative (surname Savage) who was in radio in Perth for many years. In ‘The Bear’ we also chat to a local couple who also have a house in Tallow, Ireland. He is a former engineer, while she (Theresa) worked in finance in London. They have Irish grandparents. Another local (Ian), who is sitting at the bar, joins the conversation, and says he played rugby league at Maidstone here in Kent after his union side folded. “Rugby League is so tough,” he says. “It’s the speed of the game that get’s you.” Last night Kent defeated Yorkshire in the (rugby union) Bill Beaumont County Final at Twickenham. Rugby League is THE rugby code in Yorkshire of course. But there once was a professional rugby league club in Maidstone – Kent Invicta, and the Medway Dragons, based at Gillingham, are still going strong, as far as I know. When it comes to sport, Kent is mainly known for its cricket team, which carries the name of Spitfire (Ale) from Shepherd Neame on its playing strip.
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