testing

blah blah blah I do hope we get another wicket

Unfamiliar Waters

Last night I went to a dinner party, in the midst of which, all the other five attendees lit up. Sure, it wasn't my house, we had the french doors open and I was heavily out numbered, so I didn't feel I had the right to be enormously offended - but I was quite shocked. I couldn't think of a single mate in the US who smokes (well, on second thoughts, there's BobB, but these days he seems to be sticking to the Lucky Dip (chewing tobacco)).

The other disconcerting thing was the sheer amount of alcohol drunk. Doing a quick count at the end of the night, there were ten green bottles up against the wall: three bottles of sparkling rose and seven of red wine, plus a couple of random beer bottles and a bit of gin. I am pleased to say I held my end up OK, especially since I'm still getting up to speed after coming back from the US and drinking on average one and a quarter light beers a week. The only that saved me from getting trolleyed was that I ate a SuperSize-Me amount of food (scallops, rack of lamb, orange chocolate pudding and cheese, since you ask....)

But in case anyone thinks that Americans don't live the high life, I should point out there was present a skeletal, very well groomed, American expat there who ate two spoonfuls of rice, smoked an entire pack of fags, and by the end of the evening was doing an excellent impersonation of Tara Reid on a particularly rough night. She eventually ended up going home with one of the other guests, whom she'd met for the first time in her life that evening.

Conclusion: in matters of partying, there is a great deal of evidence to point to Nurture winning out over Nature...

Back now, hen the wiser

Three years in the US of A had forgotten me that Cricket was so exciting.

I became extremely attached to my radio on the drive to Newmarket races on Saturday for part of The Future Mrs Archer's Hen Weekend, and was very disgruntled on arriving to discover that there was not one single TV screen on the entire racecourse showing the Cricket (2nd Ashes Test). I just can't understand why they didn't put a big screen up like Windsor did - it was very selfish of the Authorities. I am certain that oohing and aahing over the luscious newly-blue-haired KP and Ashley Gillo would have been a much better lubricant for a Hen Afternoon than the runners and riders for the 2.45 at Haydock Park.

My mood did not improve when, despite betting £2 on a horse in claret and blue colours, then a horse with the name Shepton Villa, and finally a horse that was allegedly trained in Lichfield (where in Lichfield?? Round the station car park? ), I won zilch.

Nevertheless, the races were fun, mainly because of the decent bunch of girls there. I am extremely wary of hen weekends, as they can be excruciating, particularly when you don't know most of the other hens. We also got v good goodie bags, consisting of:

1 Super Slimmers food diary
1 miniature of Archers Peach Schnapps
1 bright pink fluffy hairslide
1 bright pink fluffy fan (as used by strippers)
1 biscuit in the shape of a lunchbox, if you follow my drift
1 Future Mrs Archer dogtag.

I was sad to see them head back in their minibus. But the rest of the weekend beckoned, and I had to get back on the road to deepest Suffolk to see lurkingricardo, Jane and wee Robbie (my godson). It was a big weekend for Robbie: his First Paddle (in rather cold North Sea), his First Chips (the beginning of the end) and best of all, his First Victorious Ashes Test.

I am determined that his first word will be "Wicket!"

Where's Ya Trolley?

Just got back from pre season friendly no2 (if you think this going a bit far, my mother is going all the way to Utrecht in Holland for no3 on Saturday...), this time against Walsall who play two divisions below the Villa.

It started off a lovely warm evening, still light until 8.30 or so. I like going to games at this time of year, when you can just wear your Villa shirt without fourteen layers of fleece over the top, five pairs of socks, and a balaclava. (Of course, it began to tip down with rain with thirty minutes to go, but what do you expect? This is England.)

Anyway, Walsall is a cute but tiny ground: the Away section is right behind the goal, so close to the pitch you could actually smell the Ralgex on the players as they warmed up. Attendance was about 8,000, about half of whom were Villa fans. Very long queue for pre-game pies and Bovril.Game was OK - it would have been very embarrassing if Villa had been beaten by Walsall again, as they were this time last year, but fortunately Villa were 2-0 up at half time so fans could indulge in some reasonably optimistic singing: "Gavin McCann, he's better than Zidane..."

But the highlight of the evening was when an old man in a red t-shirt came sprinting along the narrow walkway between the front row of the stand and the pitch... pushing a shopping trolley full of orange juice. He was probably the fastest mover on the pitch all night, so of course the whole stand told David O'Leary to "Sign him up" (And when later spotted, sans trolley, the whole stand roared in unison, "Where's Ya Trolley?"....)