Trent Bridge – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (125: Reaching Nottingham)

Sam continued rowing Pacific Pete along the River Soar through Leicester,

passing the National Space Centre, and

Sam displaying Pacific Pete to Outdoor Pursuits Centre

Outdoor Pursuits Centre boys and Pacific Pete

introducing boys at an Outdoor Pursuits Centre to the boat.

A harvester gathered in the crop; a coot paddled by; a mallard breakfasted with her ducklings; and a water snake broke the surface of the river in which a mallow was reflected.

James having returned home for a short period, I got to work the locks.

Anyone who has read https://derrickjknight.com/2022/03/25/a-knights-tale-118-the-long-walk-begins/ will know how I avoided encountering bulls in the fields I had to cross. This rather amused a gentleman I met en route. He said that no farmer would dare leave a dangerous animal on such a public area. Following this advice with a great deal of trepidation, I mounted a stile around which this herd of cattle were clustered. As I climbed over the animals all ran away; the scary bull in fast pursuit.

Here Sam approaches Ratcliffe lock, in sight of the coal fired Power Station opened in 1968.

Further on, at Beeston, we made another group of friends. Paul, with the long hair, owned a wonderful Dutch barge, on which I slept overnight.

Sam and James in Pacific Pete at Trent Bridge

James had rejoined Sam by the time he rowed under Trent Bridge, in sight of The Brian Clough stand of Nottingham Forest football ground.

My son was then interviewed on the bank of the river by Radio Nottingham.

Sam and James in Pacific Pete, Jessica watching

For the penultimate, short, leg of the trip, only four miles in length, we were joined by Becky’s friend Jo Stone, and by Jessica, who watches our son and James moor on the Nottingham waterfront. Sam was to row the race in aid of Cancer Research. Jo suffered from leukaemia, and Jessica from myeloma. The far younger Jo was not to live much longer; Jessica survived until July 2007, having accompanied us to the finish at Port St Charles, Barbados in March 2004.

The Penultimate Leg

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This morning I scanned more colour negatives from the long walk of July 2003.

Sam continued rowing Pacific Pete along the River Soar at Leicester.

He passed the National Space Museum.

Boys at an Outdoor Pursuits Centre were introduced to the boat.

A harvester gathered in the crop; a coot paddled by; a mallard breakfasted with her ducklings; and a water snake broke the surface of the river in which a mallow was reflected.

James having returned home for a short period, I got to work the locks.

Anyone who has read ‘Nettle Rash’ will know how I avoided encountering bulls in the fields I had to cross. This rather amused a gentleman I met en route. He said that no farmer would dare leave a dangerous animal on such a public area. With a great deal of trepidation, I mounted a stile around which this herd of cattle were clustered. As I climbed over the animals all ran away; the scary bull in fast pursuit.

Here Sam approaches Ratcliffe lock, in sight of the coal fired Power Station opened in 1968.

Further on, at Beeston, we made another group of friends. Paul, with the long hair, owned a wonderful Dutch barge, on which I slept overnight.

James had rejoined Sam by the time he rowed under Trent Bridge, in sight of The Brian Clough stand of Nottingham Forest football ground.

My son was then interviewed on the bank of the river by Radio Nottingham.

This post culminates in the penultimate, short, leg of the trip. Only four miles in length, during which we were joined by Becky’s friend Jo Stone, and by Jessica, who watches our son and James moor on the Nottingham waterfront. Sam rowed the race in aid of Cancer Research. Jo suffered from leukaemia, and Jessica from myeloma. Much younger Jo was not to live much longer; Jessica survived until July 2007, having accompanied us to the finish at Port St Charles, Barbados in March 2004.

Given that we will probably just enjoy snacks this evening, Jackie provided a brunch of fried bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms, baked beans, poached eggs, and toast.

This afternoon, putting in the final touches of this post at half time, I watched the televised Six Nations rugby match between Wales and Scotland.

We will shortly be leaving for Walkford to make up a fundraising quiz team at Shelly’s church. Should there be anything of moment in this, I will report on it tomorrow.

A Cricket Lesson

So many readers of yesterday’s post have expressed horror, disbelief, or dismay, that I may have missed the most incredibly dramatic first day of a Test Match that the world has ever seen, or is ever likely to, that I have to say that I did watch the highlights on Channel 5 + 1, after I had published my offering. At Trent Bridge, his home county ground, Stuart Broad, watched by his father, Chris, a former England opening batsman, took eight wickets for fifteen runs as Australia were dismissed for 60 in less than two hours. Despite the loss of three early wickets, the home side replied with 274 for 4. Those unfamiliar with our national game may find this brief description of how it works. The epitome of the sport is a series of international Test Matches, each lasting five days. This no doubt stems from the idea that there are many battles in a war, and it is the final outcome that counts. First you must win a five day match, then you must win more than half the total of those in the series; always 5 between England and Australia. The current match is the fourth in the series. The tally is 2-1 to England. In each game each team of eleven players may bat twice. Each attempt with the bat is called an innings. The toss of a coin determines who bats and who bowls first. The batting side aim to score as many runs as possible; the bowlers intent is to take ten wickets (dismiss ten batsmen) as cheaply as possible. The opening innings in a match is usually a cat and mouse period, with the batsmen hoping to carry on to the next day and total 400 or more. It becomes apparent that to be all out (dismissed) on the first morning, and finish the day 214 behind, still needing to take six more wickets, before being set the unenviable task of overtaking whatever the ultimate lead was to be in order to set a reasonable target for England was an unmitigated disaster for the Aussies. This morning England advanced to 391 for 9 declared. This means that they closed their innings with one wicket left. Australia replied with 241 for 7. The match will finish in England’s favour tomorrow, probably without their having to bat a second time. Unfortunately, I spent most of the day trying unsuccessfully to sleep off a bad headache, so all I can offer readers less than fascinated by cricket is a photograph of a Peacock butterfly on the buddleia bush, taken when I could face the sunshine. I dined on a vegetarian salad sandwich and sparkling water.