Wicked, wickets and wheat

Wicked…

Last week, Ron and Kate, two friends from graduate school, were in town. Kate grew up in Wales so they came back from Singapore, where they teach in the American School, to visit family. We were able to get together twice, once in Windsor and then again to see “Wicked” at the Apollo Victoria. In Boston terms, the play was not wicked. I’d have preferred Alice in Wonderland at James’s school. Seeing Kate and Ron and their two daughters was great, as we quickly resumed our warm friendship from 13 years ago.

wickets, as in cricket,…

This past weekend, Sarah, who works in London, and I took in some of the city since she had to work on Saturday morning. We took the Thames Clipper - a combination tourist and commuter boat – from Greenwich to Embankment (near Parliament). We had some lunch, hastily took in an exhibit at the Southbank Centre, saw a play (Avenue Q) and had dinner with Phil and Kate. Phil is a partner in Sarah’s practice and they have known each other from back in their post-medical school training days. Kate is also a doctor. She is what they call a renal consultant. She consults with kidneys. Actually, she is, in American terms, a kidney specialist.

We stayed over at Phil and Kate’s and, for breakfast, had the English version of a bagel. It was smaller than an H & H bagel but surprisingly similar in consistency and taste. I had mentioned to Phil that I wanted to see an exhibit held at the Lord’s Cricket Grounds, written up in the NY Times, comparing cricket to baseball. Little did I know that Phil has been a member of Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), site of Lord’s Cricket Grounds, for over twenty years. After breakfast, Phil, Ralph (their son) and I took off for a cricket match at Lord’s Cricket Grounds, the oldest site for cricket in the world. It was clear across London so Phil served as tour guide for the drive, while also navigating traffic that easily surpasses New York’s. At Lord’s, Phil was a gracious host and explained the game while we witnessed a county match between Middlesex and Yorkshire. The spectators were so civilized, politely clapping at good fielding plays and batters’ hitting accomplishments. We drank Pimm’s, Britain’s quintessential quaff, and it wasn’t half bad. Something like iced tea, but carbonated, more fruity, and with a little kick. Apparently it is common to the occasion. But the most important message for the day was the motto of the MCC: Play hard, play fair. Who can argue with that?

If you want to read a history of Lord’s Cricket Grounds at Marylebone Cricket Club, check out: http://www.lords.org/history/mcc-history/

and wheat

I learned that England is 75% farmland. Here, in the English countryside, as Woody Allen said about Russia in Love and Death, “Wheat... lots of wheat... fields of wheat... a tremendous amount of wheat...” Actually the crops are rotated between wheat, hay, and rape (as in rape seed oil). In this area (and I’m not sure what “this area” encompasses yet), Sarah informs me, the farmland is owned by Ted Barclay, hence the title “Sir” or “Lordship”, as mentioned in an earlier post. I’ll tell you more about him after tonight. He is deigning to have dinner with us at Jo and Woody’s house, upon Jo’s invitation since Ted’s wife is out of town for a while. Since he is landed gentry, I thought it would be topical to tell him my version of "The Aristocrats."