501 Places

Lord's: the spritual home of cricket on a gloomy day

Cricket has a hard time selling itself to non-believers. In its original form (test match cricket) a game can last for five days, with each day lasting for around seven hours including breaks. And at the end of those five days? More than 1 in 3 finish as a draw.

The game stops when it’s raining, and also when the light is poor. So you might pay £40 for a ticket to one day of a five day game and spend an hour or two staring at an empty field while the players sit indoors waiting for the clouds to lift enough to satisfy the umpires that play can resume. See what I mean?

Yet if you’ve never been to a game and you happen to be passing through a major cricket country (India, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, England or the Caribbean) I would recommend a day at the cricket to see one of the world’s oldest sports and learn what is it about the game that so many of the local people find so fascinating.

Cricket: a statistician's dream

Cricket attracts a passionate following in its heartlands. In India and Australia crowds approaching 100,000 can squeeze into the huge stadiums to watch their national side. In England, trying to secure a ticket for an Ashes game against Australia (more on that later) is very difficult, and usually involves entering an over-subscribed lottery and hoping for the best.

People are willing to pay large sums of money to come to a game which is weather dependent (in England!) with the risk that they may see little play if the sun decides to take a day off. What is is about this strange game that captures the imagination?

England's batsmen emerge after a lunch break

Cricket on one level is a statistician’s dream. Batting and bowling averages, countless records, fifties, hundreds: there’s some milestone passed pretty much every hour of play. “These two batsmen have just passed the highest fourth wicket partnership for England against Bangladesh at Edgbaston” might be heard over the loudspeakers on a typical day.

Then there’s the intrigue of a five day game. A classic test match will change from one side being in the ascendancy to the other and back again several times before the end. Small incidents in an otherwise quiet period of play can influence the outcome of a match. A captain’s decision over where to place a fielder or who should bowl at a crucial time can swing the balance of a game decisively. I wonder if there are more subtleties and complex strategies in a Garndmaster chess match.

Haute cuisine is part of a day at the cricket

Spending a day at the cricket has developed into a peculiar ritual in recent years. Ask many supporters and they will list three main components of a good day’s cricket: beer, fast food and fancy dress. The beer starts to flow from early morning, and as the day wears on you’ll notice the singing levels increase, the inevitable Mexican wave circling the ground and some drunken idiot deciding that a 20ft high snake of empty beer glasses (plastic) is a good idea. The banter between opposing fans does however remain friendly and unthreatening.

There are always plenty of over-priced concession stands selling fish and chips, burgers, kebabs, and when the opposition are India or Pakistan, large vats of curry. And the fancy dress? It’s not uncommon to find troops of scantily-clad nuns, policewomen, Supermen or English knights among the crowd. I don’t know why; it’s just become part of the game in recent years.

T20: the sexed up version of cricket

Cricket has attempted to capture a wider audience by introducing a shorter three hour version of the game, aimed at TV audiences and part of a ridiculous attempt at wooing the American market (often denied). This T20 format of the game is particularly popular in India, where billions have been pumped into cricket’s equivalent of football’s Premier League.

Yet arguably the biggest occasion in the sport is known as the Ashes, when England take on Australia. Traditionally fierce rivals, the England team and the English media talk of little else for the four years between the times that the two sides play their contests. In recent years Australia has been dominant although their world domination appears to be over, and England will head to Australia later this year armed with their usual misplaced confidence. The atmosphere, the banter and beer-swilling always steps up a notch during an Ashes summer.

For me the five day game still emboddies what is best about cricket. There is something about watching even a day of a five day game, where no-one is in a hurry yet the game can take a dramatic turn at any point, that makes this a sport like no other. The happy acceptance of an unclear outcome, of weather delays or curtailment, and even moments where the crowd prays for rain to stop the game and prevent an impending defeat; cricket is certainly an acquired taste.

So if you are unfamiliar with the game and find yourself travelling through a cricket playing nation, why not take the chance to see a game for yourself? I would suggest that you tag along with a local who can explain what’s going on and guide you through the many rules of this historic sport. Oh, and don’t forget your umbrella.

It often ends up like this. Washed out and deserted

St Albans Abbey

We have moved house more times than most. In fact, in a little over 20 years together we’ve lived in or close to six big UK cities (Newcastle, Leeds, Manchester, Cardiff, Bristol and most recently London) as well as a spell in New York. We were, until 2006, proud to say we had not lived within 100 miles of London and its pollution, noise, rudeness and crime. Yet here we are, in our fourth year living in one of London’s most prosperous satellite cities, and in no urgent hurry to pack up sticks and head northwards.

St Albans became the latest stop on our tour of UK places to live when I finished my latest studies in Manchester and took a job based just outside of the city. We both moved south with some reluctance, and braced ourselves for a difficult adjustment.

We chose St Albans as I had worked here on a project some years before and remembered it as a leafy, attractive small city (a bit like Chester but smaller, or Durham but without the castle and the dramatic riverside setting).

Verulamium Park, St Albans

I left my job over a year ago, yet we are still here and that is a compliment to our adopted home city. I’m sure we will move north again at some point: even a few days in north Yorkshire earlier this summer reminded us of the beauty and solitude of the northern countryside and the relative emptiness of the roads once you leave the towns and cities (down here there seems to be traffic everywhere).

St Albans has much to like about it. There is its rich Roman heritage: you can find an ampthitheatre, a Roman mosaic and a section of original 2000 year old wall in the city. Then there is the no.1 draw in the city, St Albans Abbey. It is a hotchpotch of architectural styles of various centuries that somehow comes together to make a very impressive building.

St Albans Abbey

And perhaps the biggest surprise for us are the many areas of parkland that St Albans boasts. I had a preconception that the south east of England is so densely populated that I would struggle to find any green space. So it’s a relief to know that the city is home to swathes of open spaces where people can enjoy their walks or bring their summer picnics. The largest park is Verulamium Park, home to much of the Roman heritage of the city and a place we wander around on our regular evening strolls in the summer.

Modern sculptures in the Abbey - recognise the figures?

View of the park from the roof of St Albans Abbey

It’s also very convenient for access to London (20 minutes on the train) and more importantly to its airports. When we do eventually make a move back to the north, we will miss having a 30 minute drive to Heathrow or a 70 minute direct train to Gatwick (10 minutes to Luton). Being near a major airport and not just a hub makes an outbound journey much easier, but its real benefit is when you’re coming home and know that as soon as you get off the plane you are nearly home.

View of the city from the roof of St Albans Abbey

And as for London? Well we have even become fond of the capital. Having once had to battle through the traffic to drive into the centre, or endure a long and uncomfortable journey by train to get there, we can now take a trip into the city on a whim, even going in for an evening meal if we feel like it. It has become a treat to explore its neighbourhoods and hidden attractions thanks to our proximity to the city.

Fishpool Street, St Albans

So I have gradually become comfortable in singing the praises of St Albans. It is a pleasant place to live, and the best compliment I can give is that if you have no choice but to live in the south then St Albans is one of the best places to make your home.

The ruins at Gorhambury, St Albans

St Albans Abbey in winter

St Albans Abbey at sunset

Sunset over St Albans

The perfect sunset paddle; Blouberg Beach, Cape Town

I asked my wife the other day: what makes a particular place a romantic one?  She immediately replied that it was about the person you’re with, rather than where you are. So I asked her if it would make any difference if I took her for a romantic weekend to Paris or to Cleethorpes (for those who have never experienced the delights of Cleethorpes, or have never even heard of it, do a search and see what you’ve been missing). Needless to say I got a strange and unimpressed stare from Sam, betraying a very clear preference for the French capital.

So do we take it that there is something about the location that makes it romantic? (it’s not looking good Cleethorpes; sorry) But wait: the label romantic can be applied to such a diverse range of places. Think of a deserted long white sandy beach on a Seychellois outpost, then think of the canals of Venice; both considered romantic, yet couldn’t be less alike. A hotel in one town can offer a romantic break while another property on the same road would never get away with trying. And now many cities promote themselves as perfect places for romantic breaks while at the same time offer cheap booze to attract stag and hen parties. Is there a way to reason beyond these contradictions? Is there is still hope for Cleethorpes?

Perhaps romantic isn’t about a particular type of place – after all, it could be a beach, it could be a city or it could be a hide-away hotel. Romantic certainly should involve doing things together; but those activities could be as diverse as fine dining, learning to paint or rock-climbing. It’s the togetherness that makes the romance, rather than the glamour (a night dressed up to the nines in a glamorous casino or a walk hand-in-hand along a deserted path in rough and ready outdoor gear? You get the picture).

Is it even about being together alone? Certainly the good folk who market Venice, Paris or Prague can’t sell the exclusive aspect of being alone in their romantic dreams. In their eyes tens of thousands can come to their cities and jostle each other for space while being romantic together.

So if it’s just being together that defines romantic then what does indeed separate a walk along the beach in Cleethorpes from a stroll along the Seine (smells of fish and sewerage, some would say)? Is ‘romantic’ just a label attached to a marketing campaign to attract high spending couples, who will shell out more money as a result of the romantic label than they otherwise would? Is real romance something that does exist between two people, and therefore totally independent of location and surroundings?

Others are coming round to this way of thinking. Look at this video from the guys who set out to promote Blackpool (yes, Blackpool!) as a romantic hot-spot.

Perhaps I’ll have another look at Cleethorpes after all. I hear the smell of fish isn’t so bad these days.

St Stephen Walbrook

After the Great Fire of London in 1666, Christopher Wren was instructed to design and rebuild 51 churches in the city. He was later knighted and would become the architect who, more than any other, left his mark on the city in a way that has survived more than three centuries.

Wren’s most celebrated work of course is St Paul’s Cathedral, but even within a half mile of this world famous building you can discover many of Wren’s masterpieces. You won’t find 51 churches anymore, as some were demolished when the population of the city declined in the 19th century, while many were damaged or destroyed during the Blitz.

St Stephen Walbrook

The church of St Stephen Walbrook claims to be ‘the most perfectly proportioned interior in the world’ and it’s easy to see why. It’s hard not to be impressed and feel a sense of peace as soon as you step into St Stephen’s.

The crypt of the church was also home to the first branch of the Samaritans, and a picture of the organisation’s founder Chad Varah can be seen next to the telephone on which he took those early calls.

The Samaritans' first phone, and their founder Chad Varah. St Stephen Walbrook

St Lawrence Jewry is so named as it originally stood on the eastern side of the city, which was home to the Jewish community in medieval London.

The church was badly damaged on the night of 29th December 1940, when the Germans attempted to create a firestorm in the city. It has been restored to faithfully match the original Wren design.

St Lawrence Jewry

St Martin within Ludgate

A church has stood on the site of St Martin within Ludgate since 1174, although it has been rebuilt several times. Destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, the church was rebuilt in the early 18th century and thankfully received very little damage in the Blitz.

Now remarkably accessible, we were free to wander around and climb the stairs to the organ loft. There were even instructions left out to potential organists, although I’m sure it’s not intended for strangers to come in and play.

St Brides Church, Fleet Street

St Brides Church, Fleet Street

St Bride’s Church is perhaps the oldest church in London, with links back to the 7th century. A walk through the crypt reveals the old Saxon walls. This crypt was in fact only revealed after the church took a direct hit on that fateful night of 29th December 1940 and was severely damaged.

It has long had a link with the journalists of Fleet Street, and is indeed often referred to as the Journalists’ Church. So much so that the repair and restoration after the Blitz was paid for by the neighbouring newspaper proprietors. Now you’ll even find the editor’s designated seats in the choir stalls: seeing these seats filled would be a most unlikely sight!

St Brides Church, Fleet Street

All the above churches are free to enter and open during weekdays. with varied opening times at weekends. All rely on donations, so please do drop a pound or two into the box on your way out. St Brides also offers a guided tour once a day.

It seems in recent months that anyone and anything in the south-east of England is finding a way to incorporate the word London into its name in a bid to boost business. First we had the ridiculous spectacle of London Oxford airport, so named despite it being nearly 60 miles from the capital (even a stretch by Ryanair standards). Then to top that we had North Londonshire – the promotional campaign launched by Northamptonshire. Their marketing team clearly found nothing to attract people to the region other than it being just under 100 miles from the capital.

So why not London Birmingham airport? Ok, it’s a little over 100 miles from London and it does serve a city of a million people and a metropolitan area of closer to 4 million, so it can claim its right to stand by its own name. But I suspect many people living in and around London have no idea just how easy it is to fly from Birmingham International Airport (BHX). Perhaps if they did, Birmingham could attract a lot more traffic from its southern big brother.

I must admit when I was invited to Ireland on a press trip last week and told I would be flying from Birmingham, my initial reaction was not one of unabated joy. I figured it would take me a long time to get there from St Albans, and would have been better off going from a London airport. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in fact a journey of less than 90 minutes: equivalent to my journey to Gatwick, Heathrow or Stansted using public transport. The journey from London Euston is 1 hour and 10 mins, also making it a viable option for those who live in north west London.

On top of this, the high speed Virgin Train from Watford to Birmingham International was a lot more comfortable than the First Capital Connect trains that I would otherwise have endured, and even offered a pleasing selection of overpriced snacks on board. The Air-Rail link monorail is a quick and easy way to transfer from the dated rail station to the thankfully more modern airport.

One problem that airlines face in getting southerners to travel to Birmingham for their flights is the cost of the rail fare. My ticket was £43.70 return. My flight by bmibaby to Knock could potentially have cost less than this. If passengers are travelling on a low-cost airline where fares can come in well under £100, then a taking a hit on the rail fare is not an attractive proposition. You can travel on this route for £15 return, but it does require good forward planning and a lot of seriously good fortune with flight times coinciding with the cheap trains. Airlines would do well to negotiate discounted rail fares to BHX if they want to present an all-round low-cost option to travellers.

So is there a case of London Birmingham airport? Relative to other recent rebranding attempts it’s certainly not the worst suggestion. Of course it won’t happen; the good folk of Birmingham would never allow their regional airport to be tarnished in this way and rightly so. But given the good connections with the capital (and the future potential for an even faster link) perhaps a London Birmingham name might attract a few million southerners up to the Midlands to fly off of their holidays.

I flew out of Birmingham to Knock as a guest of bmibaby on an organised press trip, with my rail fares covered by Birmingham International Airport.