Hi everyone!
When History looks
back on the 20th century and comes to choose – from the 1,200
available – the Month of the Century, I’d be confident that July 1969 will be there
or thereabouts.
In July 1969 - 50 years ago this
month - the Eyes of the World were gazing up into the Heavens.
For on Sunday 20
July 1969 Neil Armstrong – a 38 year old from Wapakoneta, Ohio – piloted the
Lunar Module down towards the moon landing.
A BBC podcast Apollo Moon landing: the 13 minutes that
defined a century was recently issued to commemorate the 50th
anniversary.
It perfectly caught
the tension of that 13 minute flight:
“CAPCOM we’re go for landing"
“Eagle Houston you’re go for landing. Over”
“That's One Small Step for
man, One Giant Leap for mankind.”
Read all about it !
In 1962 Armstrong’s two year old daughter Karen had died of a malignant brain tumour.
Did the First Man really
leave Karen’s bracelet on the moon?
Well … perhaps.
But since Armstrong
passed away in 2012, we won’t know for sure until we go back to the Moon,
something that hasn’t happened since 1972.
Maybe it’s well more than time for us to return there.
Editor:
Just after 3 o’clock on the afternoon
of Friday 27th October 2017, having walked 500 miles across Northern
Spain, Ric was standing on the cliffs just beyond the lighthouse at Finisterre,
the most westerly point in Continental Europe.
As Ric stood there, looking out
across the Atlantic, he realised that it was time to say goodbye to the pebble he had brought with him from Rottingdean beach, where his daughter Laura had loved to walk along the undercliff path from Brighton Marina.
Ric KNEW the answer to the mystery of First Man and the bracelet...
Ric KNEW the answer to the mystery of First Man and the bracelet...
#ForeverYoung
What a month July
1969 was.
In Sport the key
date was Saturday 12th - exactly 50 years ago today!
On that day Tony
Jacklin won the Open Championship, the first British winner for 18 years.
But - of course –
THE sporting event that day was the School v Old Skinners at Southfields on the
edge of Tunbridge Wells.
The final game of
the Summer of ’69.
They do say Bryan Adams
really wrote his song about that Cricket Season:
Oh, when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I'd always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life
I won the toss & chose to bat.
The Old Boys soon
had us in a shed load of trouble at 25 for 6.
But Laurence
McCluskey with 58 and Richard Farrington with 32 helped us to a teatime declaration
of 123 for 7.
Those who remember
the much-missed Frank Packham, the Old Boys wicketkeeper, won’t be surprised
that Extras with 22 were the third highest score!!
Graham Clayton opened the bowling from the Southborough end and then Dave Green from the High
Brooms end.
Both top bowlers who would go onto illustrious club cricket careers for Tunbridge Wells Borderers.
But it was Nick
Pyke who was the stand out bowler.
The Old Boys made very
good progress and reached 116, needing only 8 to win with 6 wickets remaining.
That Saturday
afternoon long, long ago none of us had ever heard of the Duckworth-Lewis 'DLS' scoring system – and even if we had, we definitely wouldn’t have understood it!!
But just like Neil
Armstrong, we had absolutely no thought of conceding.
The Old Boys opener
Stroud, who had made an accomplished 56, was caught Smith bowled McCluskey.
116 for 5
On the same score
Park was caught McCluskey bowled Pyke for 11
116 for 6
And then Priestley
was LBW Pyke for a duck.
116 for 7
Graham ‘Bish’
Bishopp, a fellow Founder of the Upper Banner Farm Cricket Club 'UBFCC', was run
out for 2.
117 for 8
Tulley was caught
Clayton bowled Pyke.
120 for 9
4 to win and 1
wicket left.
Pyke bowled Costin
for a duck to finish with 6 for 14 and to Win the Game!!
Now that’s what I
call a Close Match!!
The closest I ever played in.
----
After the
celebrations had begun to calm (a bit!), I walked round the outfield to say
hello to a grey haired man & a young girl out on the midwicket boundary who all afternoon had
been chatting amiably & watching the game intently .
Southfields
No introductions are needed to Dad.
I regularly talk of him in the blogs.
Next year in 2020 there’ll be three
blogs dedicated to him; GINORMOUS decennial anniversaries of Days that are
Never to be Forgotten.
But it is exceptionally
remiss of me not to written before now about the young girl.
For - in modern
parlance – right through our teens and well into 20’s Fiona were Besties.
A young girl out on the midwicket boundary
Our backstory starts some 6 years before - in July 1963 ... …
The Andersons –
mother Irene & her children Fiona and younger brother Stuart – had
emigrated from South Africa to the UK in late 1962.
After a few months
in rented accommodation in Frant, a village about 3 miles south of Tunbridge
Wells, in July 1963 they moved to 83 Farmcombe Road, some ten houses away on the
opposite side of the road from where I grew up at 102.
Backing the car out
of the drive on his way to work, Dad had seen a lady walking an Airedale.
A nod one morning
became a smile the next time & then a:
“That’s a handsome looking dog.”
Irene introduced
Jock & herself.
Later that morning
Mum popped down to No. 83 to ask Irene for a cup of tea … and a close friendship
that would last 40 years had begun!
Initially Fiona
& I – both 11 year olds – were watchful, even wary of each other.
But that all soon changed one wet
afternoon in August.
The Andersons were
invited to play at No. 102.
Fiona & I
started with Scrabble.
Within a few
minutes we both realised that:
“If it
isn’t all about winning, why do they keep the score?”
In the next 15
years we would play games 100s & 100s of times.
Fiona would
routinely win at Scrabble.
(OK, late on the evening of Saturday 17 February 1973 I won by
going out on KESTREL, with a treble square. #JustRemembering !!)
The Andersons &
the Pipers would regularly play games; in the Winter months often on a Sunday
afternoon.
It became a
tradition that the last game of the day would be Dad v Fiona at draughts.
Titanic struggles, with no quarter asked for & certainly never given.
Two years after
they started playing, by the Autumn of 1965 the draughts games were becoming ever
closer.
And one day Dad
lost his first game to Fiona.
He was surprised,
disappointed and - perhaps – proud too!
Dad was of the
generation where you waited to be asked to call the adult by their first name.
Facing up to his
loss, he announced: “Fiona, it’s time for
you to call me Fred.”
He lent across the
board and offered his hand.
Fiona stood up and
said: “Beyond Handshakes, Fred!”
She stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
On that first
afternoon Mum introduced us to Auction Forty-Fives, a card game for 2 teams of
2.
Mum partnered
Irene, with Fiona partnering me.
I don’t like to
think how many times in the next few years the four of us would play the game.
Fiona & I
declared ourselves World Champions – though we never played other than against
our Mums!!
As the afternoon drew
to an end, Watchfulness became Friendship.
Fiona declared that I was to call her
Fifi.
And she would call me Ricci.
Though they would
spend the next 40 years denying it, that was the day on which our two
Mums hatched Project Ensemble.
Get the Wedding Hat brochure out!!
On Wednesday 4
September 1963 Fifi & I walked together to our first day at secondary
school; her at Tunbridge Wells Girls Grammar School ‘TWiGGS’ & me at
Skinners.
Fifi soon settled
into her new school.
She was bright, very bright.
In the years to come there would be top
grades in O levels and then A levels
And good at sport
too.
By the Fourth year
(the modern day Year 10) it was generally accepted that Fifi was the best
tennis player at TWiGGS since future Wimbledon winner Virginia Wade had been
there half a dozen years before.
Though I was far
below her standard, I would regularly partner Fifi at doubles.
We often played
Mary Kelland (a friend of Mum’s) and her daughter Susan (a friend of mine from St
Mark’s Primary School).
Fifi’s advice to her junior partner was always the same:
“Smash the rubbish, Ricci !”
One year we entered
the mixed doubles.
The orgulous club
chairman told Fifi that she really should get a much better player as her
partner.
Over half a century
on, I can remember exactly what Fifi told him:
Thank you for your advice.
Which indeed I did not ask you for.
Ricci is my Plus One.
He plays !!
Schooldays passed
by in a flash & soon it was off to college.
No one was
surprised that Fifi won an Open Scholarship to Somerville College, Oxford to
read English.
She combined getting a First with three Blues for Tennis.
Fifi & I always
met a couple of times during term time and most days in the holidays.
Scrabble, crib, draughts …
We were always each
other’s go-to Plus One’s.
Our mothers smiled
… Project Ensemble was alive &
well!
After university
Fifi headed into the City & merchant banking with Rothschilds.
We stilled played
the games as competitively as ever.
And doubles at
tennis; where I remained - to most people’s amazement – the Plus One!!
But for Fifi there
was unfinished business in Africa & in her late 20’s she headed back to
South Africa.
During the next two
decades she would be widely recognised as the pre-eminent Investment Banker of
her generation in Southern Africa.
But in those
pre-Internet days keeping in contact was not straight forward …
And – though we
both didn’t realise it at the time – we drifted apart.
Of course, our Mums would
regularly try to keep Project Ensemble
going.
But the sad truth for
Fifi & me is that it turned out that going from Plus One to The One proved One Small Step too
far … …
----
Well, dear reader, we’re heading into the T20 Vitality Blast fixtures.
How about coming to a Friday night game at Hove Actually?
As you may know, the wind usually comes from the West.
It can get very chilly,
so do please bring a coat to keep warm.
But just occasionally the wind is from the South.
As it blows the warmth of Africa across the ground towards the Cromwell
Road end and the Sussex Openers take guard, the crowd goes silent.
If you listen carefully, from the plains of Africa you can hear
Fifi giving her advice:
“Smash the rubbish.”
Don’t believe me?
Well come along & listen …
After
all ….
Why read a Lord Ric Cricket Blog, when you can star in your own.
See you soon!!
Ricci
Lord Ric of Beckley Furnace
Follow me on Twitter: LordRic52
PS
In early May 2002 I was in
South Africa on business.
The FA Cup Final Arsenal v
Chelsea was on Saturday 4th May.
Cyril, who was the Chairman
of the company where was I chaired the Audit Committee, collected me from The Bay Hotel in Camps Bay where
I was staying and drove me to the waterfront area in downtown Cape Town.
The Quay Four restaurant was packed. We didn't have a reservation, but
Cyril was 'well-connected' & we quickly got a table in front of one of the
giant TV screens showing the game.
At Half Time it was still 0 –
0.
As Cyril & I were watching the First Half highlights, I felt a pat on my shoulder.
“Smash the rubbish, Ricci !”
Fifi joined Cyril and me for
the Second Half (which Arsenal went on to win 2 -0).
Cyril asked Fifi and me how we knew each other.
So, dear reader, we told him what you have just read!
Email addresses & mobile numbers were exchanged.
So, dear reader, we told him what you have just read!
Email addresses & mobile numbers were exchanged.
…
The years went by, with
regular e-exchanges & watching cricket at Hove up at the Cromwell Road end when Fifi came to the UK on
business.
Still time for Scrabble too!!
On the morning of 16 February
2018 I was copied into an email exchange between Fifi & - the now President of
South Africa - Cyril Ramaphosa.
Having been appointed President
on the 15th, one of Cyril’s first actions was to ask Fifi to lead
the initiative to accelerate the development of women entrepreneurs in South
Africa.
Fifi regularly leads courses.
After Introductions, Fifi
tackles Imposter Syndrome, a psychological pattern in which an individual
doubts their accomplishments and has a regular fear of being
exposed as a "fraud".
If you ever think you’re suffering from it, Fifi says, just
remember to:
“Smash the rubbish!”
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