Skip to content

It’s a small world

6 July, 2017

I was watching cricket yesterday evening. Or to be more precise, I was watching cricket whilst tweeting a live commentary and keeping notes so that I could write a match report to publish on the club website that I webmaster. Plus keeping track of the scores so I could produce a scorecard for the club stats. And also trying to learn how to fill in the official scorebook, which is nowhere near as easy as it sounds. Cricket is a tricky game to understand enough to watch and play – it can take years to truly know what’s going on – but even that is simple compared to Doing The Scores.

But I’ve strayed somewhat off topic. What I had intended to say was that after the game, as I cycled through the outdoor path at the sports centre, I passed the netball courts. And at that moment I heard a voice calling for the ball; a voice I recognised. I jammed on the brakes and stopped to watch – yes, small world, it was Fiona. Bizarrely we both knew that the other would be playing netball or watching cricket but we hadn’t actually made the connection that we would be in the same place. So I hung around till her game finished, and greeted her as she left the court. My cricket team and her netball team were both gathering in the pub at the centre for a quick after-match drink, but we both made our excuses. Partly because we wanted to spend this unexpected time together, and partly (mainly?) because neither of us fancied being introduced to the other’s team-mates. That woud have felt too much like being in some sort of goldfish bowl, albeit a goldfish bowl that serves beer and wine and gin.

We wandered back to hers, across the common, comparing games – my team had lost narrowly, hers had won convincingly – and also, after we had passed on the pub, discussing when/whether to meet friends and family. I had an idea; I am due to meet some old work colleagues next week (including GAW, remember her?) for a pub quiz, did Fiona want to come along and share her expertise of the Fresh Prince? There would only be half a dozen of us in the team so it’s not like she would be thrown into meeting a whole cricket team in front of a whole netball team. So she checked her shifts and said yes.

I was impressed that she agreed, she is not much of a people person same as me, and I will be nervous on her behalf. But I’m sure we will all get along fine, and it will be a fun night. Team Woo Woo might even improve on our highest ever finish of fourth, especially if there are lots of Will Smith questions.

2 Comments
  1. I enjoyed this post TRG, especially the line ‘albeit a goldfish bowl that serves beer and wine and gin’. Seems like you are actually doing this whole Fiona thing well, maybe because you are not threatened and just acting yourself, and I have a feeling she is doing the same, as you both truly like each other’s company.

    Do I remember GAW??? Of course, and the Torrent of Angst poured downstream on a weekly basis for some time. And there was another one, as I recall, although I don’t remember her assigned initials.

    I know what Cricket is, what the British Nerds play, but what is Netball? Tennis?

Speak Your Brains!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

The Bipolar Muse

From Bipolar Disorder to Bipolar ORDER

diegobranco

Just another WordPress.com site

The Count Of North Clifton

1 Man and His Bloody Dog

Writing In The Deep

From short stories to poetry to just her opinions on life. Heather writes it all.

The Mum Poet

My head is a suitcase full of unorganised treasures waiting to be formed into narrative.

Jennifer Kennedy

Writer and Teacher

thesecretblogofa30yearold

❤️ welcome to my secret blog ❤️

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.

Neil MacDonald Author

A writer's journey

ART So Provident

Art that provokes

fabricating fiction

Louise Jensen - Writer - www.louisejensen.co.uk

SNIPS & SNAPS

from a Southampton Old Lady

This, that and the other thing

Looking at life through photography and words

Silverstein Potter

and other fictitious ramblings: A blog by J. W. Nicholson

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity

%d bloggers like this: