Six Pack

As June comes to an end its time to do some catching up. After a bit if golf with the Virgin Airways golf society at Wallasey, I was able to focus once more on the trip ahead to Striding Edge and Helvellyn.

As a side, however, the Virgin golf team are called the Swingers, an interesting name choice and one which Sir Richard must have the odd chuckle about. If they knew what went on in the sand dunes near the Wallasey course, they would see even more irony in the name.

I digress, so in early June we set off to Camp Dick II, again hosted in Bampton by Seamus and Kate. They was a fair old gathering, although a few less than the assemble at Camp Dick, the original. Yep, this blog has been going over ten years...phew.
Dicks lads all have WaGs in tow now, and people had again travelled from near and far. The main topic of conversation though was the weather!!

We stayed at a B & B in the village, the host of which was the official Winter weather man and climbed Helvellyn every day to do a weather report. It was pretty clear on the Saturday morning then that there was no way that walk was going to happen. It was a huge disappointment as we had been training quite extensively for it. Safety has to come first though, so a brisk few mile hike to Shap Abbey was considered the alternative. It was good fun and built up an appetite for pie and peas, ploughmans lunch and large pots of stew. It was all washed down with three barrels of local craft beer and we all slept well on the back of it!!

 

The next exciting weekend was that just past, which started off with An Old England XI v Oxton CC in a T20 game. Mark Ramprakash was the big name but Devon Malcolm, Dominic Cork and Simon Jones were also in the team.

 

That evening the London branch of the family arrived for Ava's first holy communion the next morning. Lions rugby had to be sacrificed as we were on duty in the church for 09:45. It was then all back to Emma's house for bouncy castle, mega blow up slide, bbq and more beer. I am not sure how London Pride got on the menu but who was I to complain.

 

It also gave us a rare photo opportunity as we had one with the ankle biters en masse!

 

 

 

July starts off with cousin Mike and his wife Val coming up North for Chester races. It will be my fourth day at the course and I have yet to win any money. Lets hope the weather and the luck changes on Saturday.

Why why why Delilah?

'Camp Dick' will so be upon us. A convivial gathering of Trickie Dickies eclectic companions will celebrate his 50th birthday in 'Tosser' Quinns field. Its a camping weekend, complete with open fire, basic sanitation and pod tents. There is a yomp over the Yorkshire moors on Saturday to loosen off the muscles, although it finishes at a local hostelry where any remaining aches and pains can be nicely anaesthetised.


I have offered to run off the song sheets, and that got me thinking about the sad demise of communal singing. It really is a thing of the past.


I can remember the man in the white coat, Frank Rea at Wembley who conducted the crowd prior to the FA Cup final. The singing of Henry Lyte's famous hymn "Abide With Me" has been part of FA Cup Final tradition since 1927, but sadly the community singing died out during the 1970's.


'Beastie' , a joe public rugby cove from Old Whitgiftians, entered England supporter folk law, as the leader of the singing in the West bar under the self same stand at the old Twickenham stadium. This tradition was destroyed with the ground as Tony Hallett built his new concrete edifice under which were positioned four soulless bars which were modelled on the wind tunnels used to design the bouncing bomb. Clearly a testament to Halletts RAF background. He built himself a cosy snug in which to entertain his cronies, but 'Beastie' has been superseded by Karaoke machines.....so sad.


How many homes have pianos these days, and more to the point people in the household who can bang out a tune. Family sing songs with Uncle Albert on the spoons, and Auntie Vi on the piano are also a dying event.....

...as are the improptu sing songs around the piano in the pub. These too are vanishing as pubs become 'gin palace' or 'gastro' themed. I still harbour an ambition to walk in a pub, open the keyboard and bang out a tune everybody knows and can join in with. By the time I have learnt to do it, piano's will be extinct.


So Camp Dick looks like it will be a revivalist concert featuring the voices of some of Will Carlings old farts. These talented individuals normally perform on the H22 bus on the way to Richmond station, The Red Cow public house and ,initially, on the free bus to the game. Liberal lashings of London Price, Timothy Taylor's Landlord or a pint of the black stuff make them sound like the four tenors!