With the skiing leg of our recent trip to California decimated by illness (the subject of an upcoming post), we took the opportunity of the glorious spring weather on our last day in South Lake Tahoe to finally realise a decade long ambition of driving round the entirety the lake.
Below are some of the photos we took, which I hope provide some illustration as to why Mark Twain claimed that “it must surely be the fairest picture the whole world affords”.
Posted in General, Photo Gallery | Tagged Lake Tahoe, Mark Twain, Photos, Photos of Lake Tahoe, South Lake Tahoe, Tony Quarrington | 3 Comments »
Only after we returned from our latest trip to San Francisco did it occur to me that, during the ten night stay, we had neither visited such perennial favourites as the Golden Gate Bridge, the Palace of Fine Arts or Alamo Square, nor taken a single ride on a cable car.
How can you travel nearly 6,000 miles to one of the most popular cities on earth and not take in its most iconic locations I hear you say? Surely, you are missing out on the greatest experiences it has to offer?
That is not, however, the way I see it. Rather than accept that this represents poor planning and an opportunity missed, I rather view it as a sign of our growing maturity as visitors to San Francisco. The fact is that we no longer feel the need to tick off as many of the guidebook recommendations as possible, tiring us out unnecessarily in the process.
The nature of our time spent there is increasingly taking on a different, more relaxed, you might even call it ordinary, tenor, one that more closely mirrors that of how we live at home. Being in San Francisco has become such a familiar and regular part of our lives, somewhere we visit more often even than the places we love in our own country, that it has assumed that status of our second home, and, therefore, somewhere we neither have to pretend to be what we are not, nor have to do what we feel we ought to do.
Choosing to stay some distance from the tourist enclaves of Union Square or Fisherman’s Wharf, as we did in Noe Valley this year, allows us to do as much, or as little, as we feel on any given day.
If all we want to do is to hang out at the apartment in the morning, watching the Bay Area news on TV whilst catching up on household chores, before strolling out to a neighbourhood café for lunch, followed by gift and food shopping and then returning to the apartment for a glass or two of wine on the outside private deck whilst watching the world go by, then so be it. We then might eat in in the evening – or we might try out one of the local restaurants. Or we might decide to take the metro downtown and eat in Chinatown or North Beach.
The point is that we are at liberty to do as we wish, not as we feel we ought to do to make the most of the trip and the not inconsiderable expense. Of course, it has been the happy conversion from hotel to apartment living over the past three years that has enabled us to do this.
And if it sounds to you that living in San Francisco has become less exciting for us, even routine, even a chore, then you could not be further from the truth. Whilst I can comfortably claim that we now feel at home in the city and, for myself in particular, probably did so before I ever visited it, I am tempted to suggest even that we have become, in a small way, San Franciscans, interested in its politics (with a small “p”), culture and, undeniably, its sport – just as we do at home.
And remember – those wonderful attractions are still a short drive or a bus or taxi ride away.
Nor is it the case that we no longer go sightseeing – far from it. On our recent trip we may have bypassed some of the more renowned locations, but we made a conscious effort to sample new, and nearly new, experiences, some of which were long overdue. These included a tour of City Hall, exploring Nob Hill, the Castro and Hyde Street Pier in depth, reliving the Summer of Love on the Flower Power Walking Tour, sunbathing in Dolores Park, and spending an afternoon in the excellent California Palace of the Legion of Honour.
Attending two Giants games at AT & T Park and a thrilling Elvis Costello concert at the Warfield, as well as eating out at more traditional restaurants such as John’s Grill (in the Maltese Falcon room) and the Daily Grill (Lefty O’Doul’s was too busy) added real richness to our stay.
And we still found time to take in several of our favourite spots – Golden Gate Park, including the Japanese Tea Garden and Stow Lake, Sunday brunch at the Cliff House, dinner at the North Beach Restaurant, Beach Blanket Babylon, Haight-Ashbury, the Ferry Building and the depressingly under threat Gold Dust Lounge. And, of course, a spot of DSW shoe shopping for my wife in Union Square – now, heretically, resident in the former Border’s bookstore (the shoe shop, that is, not my wife – though she might like to be).
Having read the above, perhaps the vacation wasn’t quite as relaxing as I first thought!
Posted in San Francisco | Tagged Alamo Square, AT & T Park, Baseball, Border's bookstore, Cable cars, California Palace of the Legion of Honour, Castro District, Chinatown San Francisco, City Hall San Francisco, Dashiel Hammett, Dolores Park, DSW Shoes, Elvis Costello, Ferry Building, Fisherman's Wharf, Flower Power, Flower Power Walking Tour, Gold Dust Lounge, Golden Gate Bridge, Golden Gate Park, Haight-Ashbury, Hyde Street Pier, Japanese Tea Garden, John's Grill, Lefty O'Doul's, Major League Baseball, Maltese Falcon, MUNI, Noe Valley, North Beach, North Beach Restaurant, public transport in San Francisco, San Francisco, San Francisco attractions, San Francisco Giants, San Francisco tourism, San Francisco transport, San Francisco travel, shoes, Stow Lake, Summer of Love, The Daily Grill, Tony Quarrington, Union Square San Francisco, Warfield Theater | 4 Comments »
Having been back in the City for the past three days and nights, I am pleased to report that we are making great progress on the primary objective of this trip – visiting locations we had, criminally, either not patronised at all or given short shrift to on our previous eight trips.
The only part of Nob Hill we had explored previously had been the top floor restaurant of the Fairmont Hotel during an evening excursion on our very first (coach) trip 17 years ago. Whilst we contrived this time to try to access the Top of the Mark in the period between breakfast and lunch services, it gave us the opportunity to spend more time in the stunning Grace Cathedral, with its dazzling stained glass and murals.
A walking tour of the Civic Center took in a visit of awesome City Hall, which including access to Mayor’s office as well as the supervisors’ meeting chamber. The irony of a constant procession of (heterosexual) couples making their wedding vows within feet of the bust of Harvey Milk could hardly be lost on anyone aware of the ongoing debate about gay marriage in the country in this election year.
A return visit to flower bedecked Macondray Lane, likely inspiration for Barbary Lane in Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City series of books, has been another highlight.
I don’t know whether it is the responsibility of the oh so lucky residents or the municipal authorities, but somebody really ought to repair that iconic wooden stairway before it rots away completely. That said, it did take my weight comfortably, so it may be more robust than it looks.
A few more random reflections on the trip so far:
1. As I start to write this on Opening Day, and look forward to Opening Night, when we will be part of the MLB experience for the first time, can there be another town that loves its sports teams more? Even major financial institutions fly Giants flags from their stratosphere stretching rooftops and vagrants -with little else to call their own in this world – besport team baseball caps or fleece jackets.
2. There may be no better place in the city to spend $5 than Hyde Street Pier with its collection of historic ships, notably the Glasgow built Baraclutha or the paddlesteamer ferry, Eureka, that once brought more than 2,000 commuters a day from Sausalito and Oakland?
3. We have, by using the J Church line from the Embarcadero to our apartment in Noe Valley, finally discovered the fabulous Muni Metro system – doh!
4. But we won’t desert the Muni buses or the crazy, clanking F Streetcar service, both of which provide the perfect stage for San Franciscans to play out their anxieties or set the world to rights.
5. Noe Valley is proving an excellent place to stay. It has the feel of a suburb but, because of the J Church Muni Metro, allows swift access into town. Both Hayes Valley and North of the Panhandle, where we stayed in the past two years, much as we liked them, still felt as if they were “in town”.
6. The main thoroughfare in Noe Valley, 24th Street, provides an eclectic array of shops and restaurants, and it is interesting how the Mission at the eastern end morphs into Noe Valley as you travel west along the street. Tacquerias give way to smart cafes and trolleys to strollers – a fascinating example of how San Francisco’s neighbourhoods coexist so fluidly.
7. On our first morning we walked into town via the Castro, the former Irish catholic neighbourhood that, since the sixties and seventies, has became the focal point for the gay community. As with other areas it boasts many beautifully renovated residences.
Enough for now – the Haight and the Giants beckon!
Posted in San Francisco | Tagged 24th Street, 28 Barbary Lane, Armistead Maupin, Baraclutha, Barbary Lane, Castro District, Castro Valley, City Hall, Eureka, Fairmont Hotel, Grace Cathedral, Harvey Milk, Hayes Valley, Hyde Street Pier, J Church, Macondray Lane, MUNI, Muni Metro, Nob Hill, North of the Panhandle, Places to go in San Francisco, San Francisco, San Francisco attractions, San Francisco Giants, San Francisco shopping, Tales of the City, Things to do in San Francisco, Tony Quarrington, Top of the Mark | 1 Comment »
Last year at around this time I wrote a 24 day travel diary on our trip to Tahoe, Vegas and San Francisco, and I’ll confess it was hard work, especially when some posts topped a thousand words!
Part of the reason for that was I was attempting to document our activities in considerable detail. That provoked a number of plaudits, particularly from friends who were genuinely interested in our exploits, and not only when things went wrong – as they regularly did!
I started off in the same vein earlier this week with a monumental post describing our flight with Virgin Atlantic and arrival in San Francisco. Whilst it enabled me to exorcise the demons of the former, I for one found it extremely boring (“hurrah, thanks”, I hear you cry, “we didn’t like to say, but yes, we too found it pretty tedious”).
So the good news is that I do not intend to carry on like this. The bad news is that I will still be blogging periodically over the next eleven days, though it will take the form of brief observations and reflections on aspects of life here. If they are worthy of it, I may expand on some in later posts, but, for now, I will keep them short and, hopefully, pithy. After all, I need more sleep so I can be refreshed to enjoy the experience!
I trust that you will find that more interesting and even entertaining on occasions.
Posted in San Francisco | Tagged San Francisco, Tony Quarrington, Travel diary | Leave a Comment »
Which is more than can be said for Virgin Atlantic!
The first morning of what appears now to have become our annual spring break to San Francisco dawned bright and chill in an unbecoming but convenient hotel outside Heathrow Airport. Having already checked in online on the previous day, our procession through bag drop and security was as serene as Manchester United’s to their 20th Premiership title, permitting us time for breakfast before boarding Flight VS019 to San Francisco International Airport (SFO).
Now, my wife and I are loyal customers of the Virgin brand, having flown nearly 30 times with the company since 1999, mostly to San Francisco but also to Las Vegas and Orlando. We have also enjoyed internal flights with Virgin America. We have chosen Virgin even when the price of the flight has been greater than that for the comparable British Airways flight.
That loyalty runs deep. We take Virgin Media broadband at home and ride regularly on the north west coast rail line when visiting Janet’s parents. Moreover, I was one of Sir Richard Branson’s earliest customers when I travelled – on my father’s rail season ticket – from Kent every Saturday morning in the early seventies to his original record shop in Oxford Street, buying the latest Neil Young, Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan albums as they were released!
I am sorry, therefore, to report that we experienced very poor service on yesterday’s flight. It was due to take off at 10.35am, landing at SFO at 1.25pm local time. Unfortunately, due to an issue with the in-flight entertainment system, necessitating the delivery of parts from off-site, we did not actually take off until 1.45pm.
I understand and accept fully the captain’s decision to return to the stand when the matter was discovered, however inconvenient it might have been at the time. The safety of both passengers and crew must be paramount.
My first concern related to an announcement made by the supervisor of the cabin crew only after we had started proceeding to the runway that the cabin crew was one short due to somebody going sick at the “last minute”.
Now, I don’t know when that “last minute” was but we were, by this stage, two hours late. Surely, Virgin have staff on standby to replace sick colleagues in such circumstances? Had it been after the two hour delay, there might be a defence for not providing a substitute, but if it was a matter of somebody just not turning up for their shift, I think there was both time and a responsibility to provide a replacement. To leave 354 passengers, 250 of which were sat in the economy cabin, and, just as importantly, their crew colleagues, without that support, was extremely poor service.
This meant, again understandably, that the initial drinks and meal deliveries were combined, although that effectively halved the drinks available to economy passengers.
My main concern, however, was with the handling of the hot meal. My wife and I were sat in row 62 i.e. towards the rear of the aircraft. We realised that, by selecting those seats, there was a risk that the range of food available to us might be limited by the time it reached us.
We were handed, for the first time in many years, a printed menu card prior to the service. This gave us a rather surprising, and frankly ambitious, choice of 3 main courses, namely beef cobbler, chicken and bacon and roasted vegetable penne. We both decided that we wanted the pasta, though we would have accepted the chicken and bacon had there been none of the former left.
By the time the trolley reached us there was only the beef dish left. We explained that we did not eat red meat (indeed, a fast reducing number of people do nowadays, hence the oddity of having it on the menu in the first place). The in-flight attendant explained that they were waiting for the premium economy passengers to finish their meal (sic) to establish whether there were any of the other dishes available, and if that were the case, we would receive one.
Two rows in front of us a couple, presumably in a similar predicament to ours, complained vociferously for between 5 and 10 minutes about the situation. It was clear that the same attendant, despite his best endeavours, was being given a very hard time by this couple and was being affected by it.
After what must have been another 20 minutes, and with just about everyone else in the cabin having finished their meal, the in-flight attendant brought three ravioli dishes and proceeded to hand the first two to the complaining couple, despite the fact that they had been “served” after us. This left my wife and I with a single ravioli meal (there were no chicken and bacon dishes at all) between us.
This was a classic case of “he (and she) who shouts loudest” gets what they want, and the attendant, understandably in some ways, not least due to the fact that his team was short-handed and back-up limited, caved in under the pressure. I’ll confess that I remonstrated with him briefly on this point but it was to no avail as he was quite content to lie to me to wriggle out of the problem. Interestingly, however, we saw little of him in the second half of the flight. It was if he was hiding or being protected – which, of course, had the effect of heaping even more pressure on an already understaffed crew.
I did achieve one minor triumph on the flight though. I always seem to attract the first person on any flight who wants to put their seat back, landing violently in my lap within seconds of hitting the skies. True to form, the middle aged woman, travelling with her daughter (who brought her own pillows and a week’s supply of chocolate), slapped her mask on her head and slammed her seat into my lap before I’d had time to get settled. Although I prefer to sit upright I have no alternative in the circumstances but to put my own seat back, thereby inconveniencing the person behind me.
However, when meal arrives, I don’t think it unreasonable to want to eat it sat upright so I politely asked the woman if she would put her seat back up for the duration of the meal. She appeared a little flustered but acquiesced. Nine hours later and she was still sat upright! However, in the meantime, her daughter had resumed the assault on Janet instead!
The remainder of the flight proceeded without incident, and we made up a little time, touching down at SFO at 2. (1 hour 50 minutes late).
Given that we were not visiting Tahoe until the middle of the holiday, we felt there was no need to hire a car for the first week. Whilst this saved us the vigil of the shuttle ride to the car hire center, and the traditional debate over whether we should upgrade to a four wheel drive car, it meant waiting in line for a taxi to transport us to our apartment in Noe Valley, to the south of the City.
This arrived within 5 minutes and we were “home” by 4.30pm, a not unreasonable $43 poorer but glad to have arrived so “early” after it had looked earlier in the day that we might be arriving a good deal later.
After 2 blissful weeks of virtual unbroken sunshine last year, the weather forecast, at least for the first few days, is grim, a mixture of light and dark clouds and intermittent rain, before settling down at the weekend when we make our two trips to AT & T Park to cheer on the Giants.
Although Nob, Telegraph and Russian might be the most famous, there are 40 (some say 41) other hills in the area and we can had intended to negotiate a handful of them in our first couple of days but it would seem prudent to put that off until the weather improves at the weekend.
Before the rain became heavier, eventually causing the A’s game against the Kansas City Royals across the bay to be suspended, we managed to get out and buy some basic provisions at the local wholefoods store as well as trying out the local coffee shop, Luv-U-Java.
Having been awake for more than 24 hours it was an early night.
Posted in Travel Diary | Tagged AT & T Park, Baseball, British Airways, London Heathrow, Luv-U-Java, Noe Valley, Oakland Athletics, San Francisco, San Francisco Giants, Sir Richard Branson, Tony Quarrington, Virgin Atlantic | Leave a Comment »
“I’m coming home again…..never to roam again” the song continues. Well, sadly, I will be roaming back to the UK in no time, but not until I have spent the next fortnight back in the “one in all the Golden West”.
Many of my previous posts attest to my love for The City, especially http://www.tonyquarrington.wordpress.com/2011/10/29/my-san-francisco-top-ten/ .
Those of you who have stayed the course with me will be relieved to learn that I’m not going to dribble on about cable cars, bay views and hippie Haight in this post – well I might find myself unable to avoid rapping a little on the last one……..man.
No, as our upcoming ninth trip approaches, this post looks ahead to some of the less touristic experiences that await us. Some are perennial joys whilst others will be savoured for the first time.
In the best “traditions” of TV reality shows (so I am reliably informed), they are presented in no particular order:
1. Eating Sourdough bread
Taking that first bite from an authentic sourdough loaf will almost certainly be the first, and last, taste sensation of our visit. Whilst, allegedly, I can purchase sourdough bread from a farmer’s market or wholefoods supplier in the more enlightened towns and cities of the British Isles, it will not be made from the Boudin “mother dough” and, therefore, not carry the unmistakably tangy taste of the San Francisco original.
If you want to read more about the genesis of the Boudin sourdough, you can do worse (just) than read my article at:
2. Riding on the MUNI
“I get sourdough bread but MUNI – are you crazy?” I hear any resident or informed visitor exclaim. “The “service” is totally unreliable, the drivers insolent and a sizeable number of its customers are so weird that they’d fail the audition for any self-respecting freak show”.
Ah, but there be the rub, me hearties. It is the “all human life is there” quality that makes it so endearing – provided, of course, that you’re not planning to be any place soon or are of a squeamish disposition.
I wrote about one particularly entertaining and ingenious tableau in my diary from last year’s vacation:
3. Watching the Giants play an MLB game at AT & T Park
Two actually – the (Pittsburgh) Pirates on Opening Night, complete with fireworks, on Saturday 14th April and the (Philadelphia) Phillies two nights later. An earlier post documented my initiation into baseball, and following the San Francisco Giants in particular:
http://www.tonyquarrington.wordpress.com/2011/05/12/bitten-by-the-giants-baseball-bug/
Visiting the City that little bit later this year has meant that we can finally graduate from attending desultory pre-season games featuring squad players to joining a full house crowd at a “real” game, or rather two, with heavy hitters, or rather pitchers, such as Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain.
Oh, and eating those fabulous garlic fries – and taking cover from the dive bombing seagulls towards the end of the game.
4. Getting to Know New Neighbourhoods
After successful stays in Hayes Valley and North of the Panhandle in the past couple of years, we are staying further south this year by renting an apartment for the first week in Noe Valley, or “Stroller Valley” as it is affectionately known for the preponderance of resident families with young children.
We aim to “stay local” as much as possible that week, exploring unfamiliar neighbourhoods such as Noe Valley itself and semi-mountainous Bernal Heights, Potrero Hill and Twin Peaks, as well as re-familiarising ourselves in particular with the Castro and Mission districts, much neglected on our previous trips. In fact, we are venturing further out of the City than we have ever done before, though public transport will whisk us briskly downtown should we, in the unlikely event, crave a fix of the wharf or corporate shopping at any time (that said, our two appointments with the Giants will steer us towards the bay on those days).
5. The Flower Power Walking Tour
For all my reverence for the Dead, the Airplane and the late sixties San Francisco music scene, I have resisted, in the past, signing up for the flower power walking tour of Haight-Ashbury, expecting it to be too clichéd, preferring to truck around the area on my own. But the testimonials are so compelling, and the bona fides of the individuals conducting the tour so intriguing (they lived through the Summer of Love), that I now anticipate it with relish.
6. Exploring the Old and Public San Francisco
Aside from our initial, guided trip 17 years ago, we have never explored Nob Hill in any detail. We have clanked past it on the California and Powell/ Mason and Powell/Hyde cable cars (sorry, I know I promised I wouldn’t mention them) many times but given little heed to Grace Cathedral, Huntington Park or the grand hotels – until now.
We will aim to combine that with a morning skulking as much of the public buildings that comprise the Civic Center as we are permitted to enter. I am particularly keen to visit the public library.
7. Breakfast with KRON4
Preparing for the day ahead in San Francisco has never been complete without the accompaniment of local TV station, KRON4, informing me of the weather prospects, the state of the “Bay Bridge commute” or the latest Giants news. Whilst Darya Folsom is my favourite presenter, I’ll also confess to having followed Sal Castenada’s traffic reports on rival station KTVU too for many years.
8. Skiing the Sierras
The full story of our miscalculation over the short skiing leg of our trip in Lake Tahoe will have to wait for another day. Suffice to say that the outcome is that we will finally be forced out of our customary torpor and ski somewhere other than Heavenly this time. Sierra-at-Tahoe and Kirkwood beware.
We return to the City for the final three nights of the trip, staying in a hotel on Fisherman’s Wharf. Our sixth performance of Beach Blanket Babylon and meals at two of our favourite eating places, the North Beach Restaurant and Cliff House await. And much else besides.
So, San Francisco, “open your Golden Gate”, don’t let this supplicant !wait outside your door”.
Posted in San Francisco | Tagged AT & T Park, Beach Blanket Babylon, Bernal Heights, Boudin bakery, Cable cars, Castro District, City Hall, Cliff House, Dolores Park, Fisherman's Wharf, Flower Power, Flower Power Walking Tour, Golden Gate Park, Haight Street, Haight-Ashbury, Heavenly ski resort, Isidore Boudin, Kirkwood, Lake Tahoe, Major League Baseball, Mission District, MLB, MUNI, Nob Hill, Noe Valley, North Beach Restaurant, Pier 39, Places to go in San Francisco, Potrero Hill, San Francisco, San Francisco attractions, San Francisco Bay, San Francisco Giants, Sierra-at-Tahoe, Skiing, sourdough, South Lake Tahoe, Things to do in San Francisco, Tony Quarrington, Twin Peaks | 3 Comments »
Although the county championship season does not start for another fortnight (sic), and the squad may still not be quite finalised, the commencement of domestic cricket at Beckenham tomorrow with a one day friendly against Middlesex might seem an opportune moment to speculate how well prepared Kent County Cricket Club are for the coming season.
The Close Season
Much has happened since that last grubby pink ball was despatched to the extra cover boundary at an eerie and chilly St Lawrence Ground in Canterbury at 8 o’clock in the middle of September.
Firstly, former coach, Paul Fabrace, paid the price for the team’s pitiful 2011 LV County Championship campaign, when they were only spared the wooden spoon by Leicestershire, and had one of their worst seasons since the days when Queen Victoria was looking forward to her Diamond Jubilee. In one of “life’s little ironies” as Thomas Hardy referred to them, Kent’s first competitive game of the season is a trip to Headingley on Maundy Thursday to face his new employers.
Farbrace has been replaced as “Head Coach” (rather than “Director of Cricket”, the title he held), by former West Indians batsman and captain, Jimmy Adams, an appointment that has been met with cautious optimism amongst the county’s followers and considerable enthusiasm in the dressing room.
Two of the club’s most experienced batsmen, Joe Denly and Martin van Jaarsveld, also departed for newly promoted Middlesex and South Africa respectively, the former to play Division One cricket and further his stalled England ambitions, and the latter to play out the rest of his career in his home country, where he hoped to recapture the form that had largely deserted him in his final season at Canterbury. Recent reports indicate that the move is proving a success.
In addition, the county released infuriating and injury prone quick bowler, Robbie Joseph and former England U-19 batsman, James Goodman, left first class cricket altogether to attend university before pursuing a business career.
Overseas player(s)
Australian born West Indian test player, Brendan Nash, will be the overseas player for the entire season. The 34 year old will certainly add some steel and dependability to the middle order in the championship side, and is already in form with a double century for Jamaica against Guyana just four weeks ago, but it is difficult to envisage him strengthening the batting in the T20 competition, having played just one game in that format in his career and not even making it to the crease (though he did execute a run out!).
Adams has expressed hope that there is still room for at least one other, more dynamic, player for the T20 campaign in the budget, although the Club’s management appear to be less enthusiastic. That said, that was the thinking at this time last year when the Club insisted that they would manage without an overseas player in that competition, and then proceeded to make what some felt were panic signings in Wahab Riaz and Charl Langeveldt.
Given that there are less T20 group matches this year, with the consequent loss of revenue, it is crucial that the Club strives to secure the services of a “name” player (or two), not only to encourage spectators through the turnstiles, but also to increase the chances of the side progressing past the group stage, a goal that would, at present, seem challenging.
Batting
Following Denly and van Jaarsveld’s departures, Chairman George Kennedy, promised that the savings accrued would be reinvested in “established international batsmen”. Whilst with 21 tests under his belt, Nash may fit that bill, supporters have been rather underwhelmed by the signings of Glamorgan veteran, Mike Powell, and 32 year old left handed opener, Scott Newman, the former on a permanent contract and the latter initially on a two month loan, ironically determined to use the experience to regain his place at the top of the Middlesex order usurped by Denly. Both men have indicated that they have a point to prove to the “former” employers, which, it is hoped, will work to Kent’s advantage.
Ben Harmison, younger brother of Ashes winning fast bowler, Steve, has also moved from Durham where he had become surplus to requirements. After a century on his first class debut in 2006, he has largely underachieved and it is hoped that the move will resurrect, or rather kick start, his career. In fact, it is unclear at this stage whether he is a genuine all-rounder, a bowler who bats a bit or a batsmen who bowls a bit. It will be interesting to watch how he adapts to his new county. By all accounts, Adams was impressed with him on the trip to Antigua, which augurs well, but this is a big season for him.
That phrase – “this is a big season for” – could, in fact, be applied to several Kent players, none more so than 22 year old Sam Northeast, the schoolboy prodigy who had a mediocre 2011, largely batting at number 3 in the LVCC, though he did show some aptitude as the “enforcer” in the one day side. At the end of the season, perhaps surprisingly, he only signed a one year contract, indicating that he wanted evidence of Kent’s ambition before committing himself to something more long term. This irritated some supporters who felt that it was not only putting himself under more pressure than necessary, but, should he have a stellar 2012, would be enabling him to secure a longer term contract at a more fashionable county at the end of the season.
Another of the home-grown players who needs to start converting his undoubted talent into big runs is 23 year old Alex Blake. His century at Headingley on what proved to be the penultimate day of the 2010 season as Kent were relegated from the LVCC Division One, appeared to herald great things in the future. However, apart from an impressive 96 at The Oval, when he was run out by number 11, Ashley Shaw, a combination of injury and injudicious shots early in his innings, blighted his season in 2011. Now he has completed his studies at Bradford University, and is available for the full season, the powerful left hander has the opportunity to cement his place in the top / middle order. If he succeeds, his “stand and deliver” style will be highly entertaining to watch.
With Geraint Jones’s batting suffering a (hopefully temporary) decline in 2011, there were calls for Sam Billings, who had impressed in the one day game, not least for his brilliant boundary fielding (ironic given that he is the second choice wicketkeeper), to be blooded in the LVCC side. Jones’s natural desire to play every game, and Rob Key’s wrist injury calling for an opener as replacement, the slot went to exciting England U-19 opener Daniel Bell-Drummond. Billings will be at Loughborough University, where he is captain, until July, but his time will surely come. Bell-Drummond is more likely to be a regular in the one day side this season and 20 year old Chris Piesley, whose appearances in the LVCC side in 2011 were traumatic, may need to wait this chance, as will Fabian Cowdrey.
Darren Stevens also had a modest time with the bat in the four day game in 2011 and, in fact, displayed his match winning talents more often as a deadly medium pace bowler. It may only be speculation that that had a detrimental effect on his ability to occupy the crease for a long time, but it might still be better not to over rely on him as a stock bowler in 2012.
Despite being expected to concentrate on one day cricket, veteran Pakistani, Azhar Mahmood headed both the county’s first class batting and bowling averages. The decision to finally give him his head and allow him to bat at first wicket down in the T20 competition, proved inspirational as he was a revelation, carrying that form into his late season LVCC innings further down the order. It is not fanciful to think that, as the amount of bowling he is able to do inevitably diminishes, he could hold down a place as a front line batsman.
The lynchpin of the batting, as it has been for the past dozen years, should be the captain, Rob Key, who displayed, before his wrist injury terminated his 2011 season prematurely, signs of high class, most dramatically in his almost match winning innings at The Oval. If he can remain injury free and resist the lure of a full time media career, he can make a lot of runs for Kent for many years yet.
If Stevens and Jones can recreate their form of previous seasons, Northeast showcase his talent on a more consistent basis, both Powell and Nash provide solidity in the middle order, and the captain bat like he did in the period leading up to his injury in 2011, the lineup could deliver big runs. But that is no guarantee. Last season, the county boasted arguably the most experienced top six on the circuit, yet persistently underachieved.
Seam bowling
The spearhead of the four day attack in 2011, Hampshire loanee, David Balcombe has returned to his parent county, leaving the pace bowling department looking particularly threadbare. The paucity of experienced medium fast bowlers even led Kent to re-sign veteran Simon Cook when, for most of the late summer and autumn, it had looked that his Kent career was over.
That “big season” tag could also apply to 21 year old Matt Coles. An enthusiastic trier, he looked genuinely quick at times last season and earned himself a call-up to the Potential England Performance Programme in India, from whence he joined the England Lions tour as of Sri Lanka as replacement for Stuart Meaker. He is also a powerful left-handed batsmen and could yet become a genuine all-rounder.
Supporters will hope that Balcombe’s exploits will be replicated this year by 6 feet 7 inches Cornishman, Charlie Shreck, who signed after nine solid years at Nottinghamshire. Whilst Cook might be a bit part player, rather than the reliable “go to” bowler of previous years, much is expected of England U-19 captain, Adam Ball, whose left arm seamers impressed in 2011, especially in the T20 competition. He also looks a compact, orthodox batsman, but can clear the boundary when the occasion demands.
Although he can no longer be expected to bowl long spells, there remain few more canny seamers in the game than Azhar Mahmood, particularly “at the death” in one day games. It is likely, and probably prudent, that the burden upon him be lessened, if for no other reason than that it will allow him to build on his resurgent batting. Twenty year old left armer Ashley Shaw has produced some high class spells of swing bowling, but his persistent shin splints problem threatens to hamper his progress. Young quicks, Ivan Thomas and Ben Kemp will probably have to bide their time this season.
Thirty one year old Mark Davies, released by Durham after a spate of injuries, joined the squad on its recent ten day training trip to Antigua, and apparently impressed. A fit, hungry Davies would certainly bolster the seam attack.
Spin bowling
James Tredwell will, as he has done for the past half dozen years, spearhead the spin bowling department, though his return to the England fold for the current Sri Lanka tour has given him renewed hope that his international career is not over yet. This may give off spinner, Adam Riley, twenty tomorrow, more first team chances, though he is still at Loughborough University. He showed some real promise last season, particularly early on, though injury and university limited his opportunities. He is still very young in spin bowling terms, but looks a potentially sound long term replacement for Tredwell. It should not be forgotten that the departures of Denly and van Jaarsveld will limit the part time slow bowling options, which might be a real issue in the one day game.
Prediction
The signings of Powell, Shreck, Harmison, Newman and, potentially, Davies, have raised the average age of the first team squad dramatically. Having looked at the end of last year that the club was going to rely upon the emerging and, in many cases, still unproven, youngsters, the first team is now a much more experienced one. Time will tell whether the additional number of bodies has the required quality to challenge for honours in either the four or one day game.
Indeed, it is difficult to predict where Kent will finish in each competition. After a disastrous 2011, becoming competitive, particularly in the four day format, will be an improvement. That said, pre-season optimism dictates that a genuine challenge for promotion back to Division One of the LVCC, and reaching the knock-out phases of both the T20 and CB40 competitions, might not be beyond this squad, provided that the new recruits and established members deliver, and the youngsters make good progress.
Posted in Kent cricket | Tagged Adam Ball, Adam Riley, Alex Blake, Ashley Shaw, Azhar Mahmod, Beckenham, Ben Harmison, Ben Kemp, Brendan Nash, CB40, Charlie Shreck, County Cricket Championship, Daniel Bell-Drummond, Darren Stevens, Fabien Cowdrey, George Clifford, Geraint Jones, Ivan Thomas, James Tredwell, Jamie Clifford, Jimmy Adams, Joe Denly, Kent County Cricket Club, Kent cricket, Mark Davies, Martin van Jaarsveld, Matt Coles, Mike Powell, Paul Frabrace, Rob Key, Sam Billings, Sam Northeast, Scott Newman, Simon Cook, St Lawrence Ground, T20, Tony Quarrington | 1 Comment »
Last night I did something I can’t recall having done before in my near sixty years – I ate out alone in a restaurant. I don’t know what that says about me, particularly as I dine out as often – and probably more – than I can afford. Perhaps I am such sparkling company that I am always fending off a queue of admirers willing to share, and be seen to be sharing, a meal in public with me? Yes, of course ………… not. It’s more a case of my being too self-conscious to be seen unaccompanied.
Until last night.
Having passed a dozen restaurants in Covent Garden, all full, catering for the demands of theatregoers, I spied a spare table at Pizza Express, opposite Charing Cross railway station, and, as boldly as I could in the circumstances, went where I had not gone before, and entered.
I felt some trepidation about the experience, expecting everyone to stare at me and either poke fun because I had nobody to share my meal with or, perhaps worse still, cast pitying glances in my direction. This may be pathetic and irrational, not least in these days when an increasing number of people live alone, but it was, nonetheless, real.
I was met with a beaming smile by Yamina, a delightful and attentive waitress whom, I would hazard, was of middle eastern extraction, and escorted to my table. She removed the “spare” set of cutlery, thereby indicating to my fellow diners that I was truly on my own, and not just waiting for my “date”.
She promptly took my drink order of a large glass of Pinot Grigio. I declined the offer of water, not least because the prospect of having two glasses, and perhaps a bottle too, on the small table before me (and this was before any food had arrived), might prove too much of a temptation for me to spill the contents and expose me still further as a sad hick.
On returning with my drink – which comprised a wine glass AND a carafe (anxiety level spirals) – I ordered dough balls “Pizza Express”, followed by “Padana Leggera”, a thin crust pizza topped with goats cheese, spinach, caramelised red onion and garlic oil, with a veritable forest of rocket engulfing it. Yamina declared that I had chosen the “best” pizza on the menu, with which judgement, despite the absence of at least four varieties of cheeses bubbling in it, I concurred.
The food was good if not outstanding, but then, the last time I looked, Pizza Express was still awaiting its first Michelin star. It is, however, reliable, tasty and relatively inexpensive. And, having been one of the first pizza chains in the UK, opening its first branch near the British Museum, over 40 years ago, it has maintained its position in the market in the intervening years in the face of growing competition.
Last night, the dough balls were a little dry, although the garlic butter helped to alleviate that issue. Goats cheese and caramelised red onion are a delicious combination, though the profusion of rocket atop it just took the edge off the heat a little more than I would have liked.
The service throughout was excellent. Aside from the ever-smiling Yamina, both the young man who delivered my main course and the woman – whom I presumed to be the maître dit who collected my empty plate – were equally charming and attentive.
Now, when you have somebody opposite you at the dinner table, you are obliged to engage them in witty, intelligent conversation or, failing that, check your e mails and Facebook accounts together on your mobile phones. When you are alone, however, your thoughts tend naturally to wander over the minutiae of your life. For me, the experience of being in a restaurant, on my own, monopolised my thinking.
One fantasy I harboured that might account for the superb service I received was that the staff might have mistaken me for a food critic. Fanciful idea I know, but my alternating between taking a bite of pizza and scribbling in my notebook, must have appeared odd. Nothing like drawing attention to yourself when you’re trying to be invisible. But, in a way, I was – this article is as much a modest restaurant review as it is an exploration of my psyche.
Or perhaps their amiability was borne out of pity for my plight of solitude.
(There I go again – it’s no big deal, really. Thousands of people do it every day, and without making such a fuss. Get over yourself).
And besides I wasn’t really alone. I had the company of a six by four foot mirror disconcertingly close to my left cheek, reflecting back my profile. Thankfully, it displayed my better side, though that is not saying much. Inevitably, I cast the occasional glance in it, but for no other reason than to snoop on my fellow diners without staring directly at them. Oddly, they appeared to have no interest in me, my scribbling or my hangups (nothing worse than being spoken about………).
After forty five minutes I paid the bill, leaving Yamina a handsome tip, and strode out into a balmy, bustling Strand where the rush hour with its constant stream of taxis, buses and pedestrians remained in full swing.
(There, that wasn’t so bad was it? Well, OK, but I think I’ll take my wife next time).
Posted in Personal | Tagged caramelised onion, Charing Cross, Coptic Street, Covent Garden, eating out, goats cheese, London, London restaurants, pizza, Pizza Express, restaurants, Strand, Tony Quarrington | Leave a Comment »
It is 10am on a bright, brisk market day morning in March in a town in the south of England. I order a decaffeinated skinny latté from an eager young man in the one cafe that does not reek of grease, and take a seat outside.
On his way out to me the trainee barista trips over a discarded beer can and spills the coffee over the pavement. He apologises and returns to mop it up, but fails to offer me another cup, and then is visibly irritated when, wholly unreasonably, I request a fresh one. That said, he brings a prompt replacement, seasoned with a further apology.
From the doubtful comfort of my three and a half legged plastic chair I scan the establishments around me – “Nails Palace – Professional Nail Care for Ladies and Gentlemen”, “Cash Generator – the Buy, Sell and Loan Store”, “Tanning Heaven”, “Tattoo xxxxxx Ltd”, “Cheques Cashed”, “We buy Gold – any Condition”, “Residential lettings”, “Betfred” bookmakers and the “Community Store”, run by the Salvation Army and offering “Heart to God, Hand to Man”.
“Eel Pie Island”, which specialises in all day breakfasts, announces itself in large, yellow lettering to be a “Caf’e” (I doubt the apostrophe police saw that one coming). Upstairs is a dental surgery which, somehow, seems appropriate.
The “Hot 4 U Pizza, Chicken and Kebab” shop is closed, victim of too much competition in the fast food field, proof that you can have too much of a good thing. Breakfast for those not crammed into McDonald’s consists of sausage and bacon rolls and fresh cream puffs. Obesity seems a badge of honour.
The traditional gentleman’s barber shop is missing his iconic red and white striped pole. Nothing for the weekend here.
The local pub is also boarded up. A ragged, handwritten paper sign flaps in the light breeze. Somebody has inserted an “i” between the words “to” and “let”.
The compensation culture is in full swing. The frontage of the “Claim Shop” is emblazoned with a huge sign proclaiming “have you been involved in an ACCIDENT or suffered an INJURY through no fault of your own!!!”.
A council street cleaner fights a losing battle with bottles, cans, and food packaging, strewn over benches and pavement. On the opposite side of the road a modern day Steptoe proceeds in stiff but stately fashion along the pedestrianised street, peering professionally in all directions for unwanted morsels.
The air reverberates in a veritable Babel. English is spoken, or rather shouted, liberally infused with swear words, but it is no more heard than is Polish, Russian, Arabic, Turkish or Punjabi.
Young gap-toothed men wearing baseball caps or hoods and gripping cans of super strength, but astonishingly cheap, lager, swagger past, trailed by tattooed teenage mothers already carrying their next child, barking at their toddlers who are committing the heinous crime of being ……………….. children.
As the weather is uncommonly mild, plain white vests, accompanied by sometimes matching sweat pants, appear to be the dress code of choice, at least for the men. Whilst this might be an attractive look on a young man with taut muscles in the right places, it does not sit well with balding, unshaven, middle aged men, stomachs bursting from a diet of gassy beer and burgers. Bare arms are bedecked with body art depicting snakes, eagles and pseudo-oriental slogans.
Their Staffordshire bull terriers, acquired for menace, encircle each other, doing nothing more threatening than sniffing at each other’s private parts.
And yet, I am observed quizzically, even suspiciously, by passers-by with my fancy coffee, book for reading and, especially, notebook and pen desperately trying to capture the vivid images around me.
The young mums congregate outside Gregg’s and Iceland to share a cigarette, compare frilly pram and buggy decorations and show off the clothes they have just bought for Bailey and Madison in Primark. As the conversation turns to X Factor and piercings, their progeny become increasingly testy, provoking screeching admonitions to “shut up…… now”.
Shoppers seek bargains in the many charity shops, notably Scope, Cancer Research, Oxfam, British Heart Foundation and Demelza (for children in hospice care), but the upstart 97p conv£nience store has recently closed, sent packing by the more established and cavernous 99p emporium.
In the bustling market the stalls selling inexpensive imitation leather jackets, shell suits and sweatshirts are doing a good trade. Following close behind are those offering household goods and toys, jewelry, watches, mobile phones, rugs and carpets, curtains, handbags, purses and luggage – the selling point in every category being cheapness.
Country crooners from the fifties dominate the airwaves from the two stalls specialising in CDs and DVDs. A local driving school and the RAC try to rein in passers by, but most people here do not drive. Surrounded by fast food outlets, the centrally positioned greengrocer is still highly popular, as is the plant stall.
The meat wagon man is not so successful despite his saucy entreaties to “come on girls, don’t be shy, give my lovely meat a try”. A further invitation to feel his pork loins goes similarly unheeded. Despite his impressive discounts, a middle aged couple try to barter with him to no avail – another sale lost.
An octogenarian sea dog (this is a naval town, after all), dressed in a tweed jacket and waistcoat that displays several medals, shuffles past pushing a shopping trolley. Woe betide anyone who gets in his way, for a wheezy verbal volley and a clip from his walking stick will befall them. He sports a flourishing white beard reminiscent of Uncle Albert’s in the TV sitcom, Only Fools and Horses.
A slowly warming sun glints through the trees as I drain my latté and head for The Works in the hope of picking up a bargain book to add to the already overstocked shelves at home.
Florence this is not. Nor is it Bath or Edinburgh. But it is a area of contrasts. Despite having some of the worst school exam results in the country it boasts four universities, and the local sports centre has been refurbished and rebranded as an Olympic training venue.
If the picture I have portrayed here only depicts one side of that, it is because that is what I see on this March Monday morning.
And, as someone infinitely more eloquent than I said “it’s alright ma – it’s life and life only”.
Posted in Personal | Tagged 97p store, 99p store, Bob Dylan, Britain, British Heart Foundation, Cancer Research, charity shops, Chatham, chavs, Demelza, dependency culture, Desolation Row, Gillingham, Gregg's, high streets, Iceland, It's Alright Ma I'm Only Bleeding, Kent, market day, McDonald's, Medway, Modern Britain, Only Fools and Horses, Oxfam, Primark, Scope, shopping, Staffordshire bull terriers, The Works, Tony Quarrington, underclass, X Factor | 4 Comments »
Recently my wife and I did some house sitting for friends. It had been a welcome short break for us too – leaving our three bedroom terraced house in town for a spacious five bedroom detached cottage deep in the Kent countryside, with ten acres of land and nothing on the horizon but trees and the occasional oast house.
Our duties had not only been confined to the “country pile”, but a minor menagerie too. Firstly, we were asked to attend to the needs “on demand” of the family cat, a deaf, sixteen year old with the onset of dementia and the personality of an East End mobster. Then there was the cacophonous collection of ducks, moorhens and pheasants that hung out together around the pond, and the mass of birdlife, including woodpeckers, assorted tits and finches, wood pigeons, thrushes and others at their feeding station.
And finally, there were two shetland ponies, one palomino and the other chestnut, whom, for the first 24 hours, we were responsible for steering into their stables in the evening and out of them into the field the next morning.
Originally, we had been expected to look after the elderly black labrador dog too, but she had been unwell of late and travelled away with her owners. Disappointing though this development was, it did allow us to walk a lot further, which we took full advantage of.
But let’s return to the cat. We were told to feed him “when he whines”. That sounds easy – until you discover that he whines at least once an hour as he stands over a dish that, a short while ago, was gleaming with cat food, steamed with such delicacies as tuna, salmon and sardine. Periodic bowls of prawns completed his exotic, and clearly delicious, diet.
Once replete, his “demand” then extended to standing by the back door, insisting, in steadily increasing volume (remember, he is deaf), that, despite the fact that he could use the cat flap designed for the purpose is located in the front door, he be let out via that route (only to return by the cat flap, of course).
His life appears to be a constant cycle of eating and sleeping – which he did for hours on end, usually curled up by the side of the sitting room T.V. Just occasionally, he would ordain that he be stroked for a few moments, but not for long enough to engender sentimentality or diminish his street credibility. And, after all, we needed to know our place.
Now, I know his alternately independent and needy manner is only his cat nature, but it was the way in which he articulated the latter that was particularly alarming, and not a little scary. Dependent, I presume, upon his level of dissatisfaction at being ignored when he “whines”, he has an extraordinary range of sounds, from the traditional miaow, to a cute, lamb-like bleat, a remarkably human conversational tone and, ultimately, a hair-raising growl – the last usually doing the trick (crikey, where’s his food?).
Despite repeated staring competitions, and raised voices on either side, I’d like to think that, by the end of the weekend, whilst not becoming great friends, we had at least arrived at a tenuous understanding, though which of us was David Cameron and which Boris Johnson, I would not presume to guess.
And then there were the ponies. As their stables had already been “mucked out”, and their food and water prepared, our duties on the first evening were merely to guide them from the field into their respective stables, with the reverse operation the following morning. Now I’ll confess that we were not a little anxious about this.
Would they – especially as were strangers – take this opportunity to make a run for it when that gate was opened at 5.30pm? Or would they attack us, annoyed that they had been obliged to wait so long for their evening meal (despite the fact that they had each eaten a ton of grass during the day)? Or, perhaps, even worse, and I acknowledge that this would have been the least likely scenario, would they refuse to budge at all?
So we prepared very carefully for the ordeal.
Gate to outside world and freedom firmly closed?
Check.
Stable doors open to receive residents?
Check.
Route to compost heap cut off by strategically placed wheelbarrow (and male human of advancing years)?
Check.
Here goes – gate to field opened.
What happened there?
Within two seconds, and in a whirl of dried mud, hay and galloping hooves, they were ensconced in their respective stables, muzzles in their buckets of feed, hay and apples, oblivious to our concern as we picked ourselves up from the stony path.
For details of the following morning’s similar stampede, just read the foregoing account in reverse order.
Piece of cake then – or, perhaps, bowl of hay might be a more suitable metaphor.
The entertainment provided by the animals aside, it was a glorious weekend with warm spring sunshine throughout.
Fine weather helps of course, but these few days have confirmed that country life agrees with me. The only sounds were delightfully natural ones – the ducks greeting the dawn which, unfortunately, for some, appears to have broken at 2am, the diversity of birdsong, the calling of woodpeckers across the valley, and even the whinnying and kicking from the stables as the ponies became impatient to be released from their overnight custody.
As I finish this piece a pheasant scoots across the meadow in a hilarious audition for the role of the roadrunner in the re-creation of the Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons. A squirrel clambers clumsily onto a bird feeder, only to be ganged up on by a crowd of coal tits. I will, however, gloss over the shenanigans in the vicinity of the pond where three male mallards chase and ultimately pin down a single female. Spring has undoubtedly sprung.
I would write more but I can hear the cat whining again.
Posted in Personal | Tagged Boris Johnson, cats, David Cameron, dogs, ducks, house sitting, housesitting, Kent, Looney Tunes, Merrie Melodies, pheasants, roadrunner, shetland ponies, Tony Quarrington | 2 Comments »
Tony Quarrington 