What Next?

Contrary to what some people think – and what it may look like – a certain amount of thought often goes in to this blog.  I have to confess, however, that the only sure thing about this week’s was the featured pic – and since that often depends on everything running smoothly from a technical standpoint, it’s no given.

The photo is of a lovely magnolia in the park just across the road from me and it takes centre stage because it means that spring has sprung and its time has come.  It could be a very short time because, beautiful as they are, magnolias don’t last long and it’s still chilly enough for them to be living on borrowed time.  We’ve got to enjoy them and marvel while we can.

The clocks have changed but it’s too early to ditch the winter woollies so that can mean only one thing:  the cricket season is about to start here in England, with the county championships beginning today (Friday).  Warwickshire are playing Surrey at Edgbaston and a friend and I are hoping to go on Sunday, weather – and play (sometimes four-day matches don’t go beyond two days let alone last the distance) – permitting.

I’m intending to drive us to the ground and hope it’ll be more successful than my last effort when I picked up a fine for driving in a bus lane that was a no-go area for us ordinary motorists.  Oops.  Fingers crossed we get things right this time.

The IPL – Indian Premier League – has just started and it’s the high-class smash-bang-wallop 20-over stuff (if that’s not a complete contradiction!).  Whatever you think of the brutal short form of the game, the level of skill – batting, bowling, fielding – is mind-boggling and once you start watching, it’s impossible to take your eyes off it.

I decided to follow Dad’s lead – he had a football team in every division in England, Scotland and Ireland, to ensure that he had an interest at every level (Sunderland remained his first love wherever they found themselves) – and pick a side.  “What’s the most northerly team?” I asked a mate who knows about these things – and many others, though, like most of us, he’s not infallible.  For instance, he didn’t know that Jack Nicklaus won the Masters in 1986 but I digress – and, of course, he does now.  “Punjab Kings,” came the instant reply.  Right.

“We” (that indicates a tentative we) were at home to the Gujarat Titans, whose uniform was infinitely classier than “our” red and blue mess with gaudy gold numbers and I was tempted to switch allegiance should the Titans win.  However, they didn’t.  So I’m now cheering for the Kings come what may!  We’re away to the Chennai Super Kings today, so at least my knowledge of Indian geography should improve as I scrabble for my one remaining atlas – a Peters one dating from 1989, so it could be time for an update.  Chennai was probably still called Madras then.  Wonder if I have room in the house for a globe…

On the golf front, we played the Coronation Foursomes on Tuesday and my weather app (the Met Office) indicated that it was going to chuck it down with rain early on and be quite cold.  I rugged up accordingly:  thick winter leggings (which were in the pile to go in to summer storage), waterproof troos, lots of layers on top, woolly hat.  It didn’t rain, the sun came out and I was so warm that I had to take off a mid layer to avoid melting away altogether.  My partner and I came third despite making a bit of a mess of the last two holes and, wonder of wonders, we didn’t blob a single hole.

Going back to India – and up a few levels in golf – Alex Fitzpatrick, younger brother of Matt, US Open champion in 2022, won the Hero Indian Open at DLF Golf & Country Club, just outside New Delhi, his first victory on the DP World Tour.  What made it even more special was that Matt had won the Valspar Championship in Florida the week before.  Apparently it was the first time that brothers had won back to back on the two tours.

“It can be hard sometimes when you’re constantly chasing someone’s accolades,” Alex said, “but luckily it’s my brother so it’s not horrific.  I idolise him and I’m just trying to be like him in every way.  It’s been a good week for the Fitzpatricks.”

With a bit of luck Maureen was about ten when she saw sense and gave up idolising her big sister, having already recognised the feet of clay.  Perhaps Matthew F can cope with all that goes with being an idol…I certainly can’t/couldn’t.  Yikes.