Croquet

There are two forms of croquet - the right form (Association Croquet) and the wrong form (Golf Croquet). The latter is essentially Croquet For Dummies, so we won't dwell on it.

I played croquet for many years and immensely enjoyed it. It is a strategic and tactical challenge, involving a great deal of skill.

I was once, very briefly, ranked 637th in the world. Now, readers will no doubt wonder whether there are only about 638 croquet players in the world, or even whether the "world" in this case means England (rather like American Football or Aussie Rules). But mock not - I am proud of it.

A game of croquet takes place between two players or two doubles teams. We'll talk about singles - one player against another. Each player has two balls, of different colours. The game takes place on a lawn containing six hoops, laid out as follows:

As you can see, you go through the hoops in a particular sequence. Generally twice round, with the second half the reverse (ish) of the first. To win the game, get both your balls through the hoops in the correct sequence then hit them against the peg in the middle. Before your opponent does.

So, it's a simple game? No, it isn't. Because the hoops are around 4" wide and the balls are 3⅝" diameter - not much leeway (OK, if you want to be pedantic, I may be confusing simple with easy here, but croquet is neither). There is a sequence of shots which you need to use to position your ball in front of a hoop and then run it through.

Once both of your balls are in play and it is your turn, you can hit one of your balls to hit one of the other three - your other ball and you opponent's two balls. If you miss - unless you manage to hit your ball through a hoop - your turn is over. If you hit, you pick your ball up and "take croquet". That is, you put your ball down touching the ball you hit and hit your ball away from the touching ball - also moving that ball - towards one of the other balls or towards the hoop through which you are aiming to go. You then have a continuation shot, in which you can hit one of the other balls which you haven't yet taken croquet from, or go through your hoop. Once you get the ball through a hoop, the sequence is reset so that you can use the other three balls again.

Now here is the really clever part: because you move both balls on your croquet shot, you can play the object ball to a position where it can be useful in a subsequent shot after you have "made" your hoop and can then roquet (that is the shot where you hit your ball against another ball to earn the croquet shot) that ball again. Using all four balls, therefore, it is possible to go all the way round the six hoops and the six return hoops in one turn.

I have done it and here is the proof:

So, a twelve point break - that's all 12 hoops in one turn. No bisques - a bisque is a free turn you can use if you are playing a handicap game. Handicaps work in a similar fashion to those in golf. If I have a handicap of 7 and my opponent has a handicap of 5, I receive 2 bisques (free shots) from him/her, which I can use at any point when it is my turn. So, if I get through 5 hoops and then break down by not getting my ball through a hoop, I can use a bisque and carry on the turn (I think that may be what a mulligan is in golf).

There's a lot more to croquet than that. For instance, you have to consider the situation you are leaving your opponent in, when you approaching the end of your turn and he will take his turn next. Because you are trying to set yourself up to get through hoops, you are also trying to prevent his being able to do so when it's his turn. And beware! Since you are probably using his balls to set up your own break, you may have set them up perfectly for his next turn!You can be constructive or destructive, aggressive or passive, cautious or risky. So it's a strategic game as well as tactical.

So, to play croquet, you need to have ... a brain and good legs - like this chap:

There's a croquet club near you. Go and enjoy! https://www.croquet.org.uk/

Low boredom threshold and previous transitory enthusiasms

I told you recently about my brief reunion with the pleasure of bird watching. That set me thinking about what my bookshelves remind me of previous short-term enthusiasms.

As I sit here writing this, I can see a large , picturesque book "The Tropical Marine Aquarium". I had one once but the guppies, angelfish, mollies and the like didn't live very long, and some fish enjoyed (too much, in my opinion) eating the others. BTW (for those, like me, over 70, that means By The Way) whilst researching this post (yes I do research for these meaningless ramblings) I discovered guppyexpert.com, which has a page "20 Best Guppy Fish Tank Mates". Wow, the things people know!

If you are thinking of having an aquarium, you should know that they require a lot of effort - cleaning, checking temperature and oxygenation, etc. - and all the fish do is swim about aimlessly and ungratefully. Occasionally a mummy fish (temporary, as female guppies can apparently change sex - very woke) will have babies, which the other fish in the tank immediately treat as a new source of food. Ugh.

Next to that book is "50 walks to country pubs". Well thumbed but no use at the moment, obviously. If there was a book "50 aimless walks within 100 metres of your house", that might be relevant.

Then there's a whole shelf of cookery books. What are they for? Did some previous owner of this house leave them? I shouldn't mock, as I think one or other of my sons (maybe both) gave me some when I moved to Cornwall, in the forlorn expectation that I would be spending my retirement in my kitchen. Thanks, guys.

"Supper won't take long" is one book, by Lindsey Bareham. Too true, I gobble my food like a Trojan (i.e. inside a horse). An obviously second hand "Pakistan Cookery Book" is next to it. Opening it for the first time ever, I discover 185 recipes for such treats as Dahi Baras, Suji Cake and Kachories. Mm, delicious. And a print of an internet page "How to Cook Beetroot". Wait, you COOK beetroot? You mean it doesn't come out of a jar?

A book on Mentoring sits alongside Samuel Beckett's "Krapp's Last Tape". Diversity.

Then there is a huge "Chronicle of the 20th Century". A relic of my early Cornwall days when  I used to go to auctions. And brought home piles of tat and ancient books, to adorn my house. Ugh again.

And get this - this jigsaw...

...has been on that table for three years! You can see the picture has lots of (similar) blues and prolonged exposure to the sun, by a south facing window, has faded many of the pieces so the whole thing is a puzzle - er, yes Nigel, a puzzle duh!

Will I ever finish it? I'm probably not THAT bored.

I'm a dabbler - I try something, get tired of it, move on to something else. Like yoga. And croquet. Spotify. Netflix. Probably - at some time in the distant future - blogging.

Not to worry, there's a new computer game coming out tomorrow which I have pre-ordered. That should keep me going for a .... month?

Baking is for wimps

No, you bakers are definitely not the wimps. I am the wimp - having no confidence that anything I do in the kitchen will turn out as expected.

But...

Today I am baking some cookies. You must be aware by now that cooking and baking are not my favourite pastimes but they are definitely useful ways to fill lockdown time. Until recently I have never made cookies. And I tend to avoid anything floury on the basis that I put on weight rather easily (I know, it's also because I have an aversion to exercise).

I have made two batches of cookies recently. The first, plain ones, were not exactly a failure but on the success scale would rate about 3.5. Too wet hence rather flaky, too chunky so filling, possibly undercooked. For the second I decided that recipes were more in the nature of general guidelines rather than prescriptions, so I slightly increased the flour content, flattened them and cooked them at a higher temperature and for longer than the recipe stated. And added chocolate chips. Result: 10.0 on the Nige scale. Very tasty, probably fattening but if I only eat a few every day maybe that won't matter (just kidding, one a day with morning coffee).

Today I have run out of chocolate chips so am going to try raisins. Dunno how that will work out.

I did think of posting this as a video but that seemed rather overrating my kitchen skills and behaviour. And my grandson Oliver has already done a really good cooking video, which I cannot compete with.

In fact I decided to make oatmeal raisin cookies, using a recipe on bbcgoodfood.com (I'm not sure this is a good use of licence payers' money, or what a public service broadcaster should be doing, but I'll skip over that). With some adjustments/substitutions.

Once finished, I hope to post a picture of the finished articles.

[An hour passes]

And here they are:

You can see two things from that. One is that I probably should have made more smaller cookies than fewer larger ones (minor point, I can just halve them when eating). The other, more important, is that I probably cooked them a little too long or possibly at a lower temperature (that was one the adjustments I made - Nigel, don't think you know better than these people). They are definitely a little crispy.

[Ed: you also need to sort out the lighting on these pics]

Now for the taste test. I am pleasantly surprised at the texture - soft and chewy on the inside and harder on the outside is probably what I'm aiming for. However, they are definitely a little TOO crispy, so my overall rating for this batch is:

7.0

Big little birds

I used to be an enthusiastic twitcher (for those not in the know, a twitcher is a bird watcher; don't ask me why). In my teens. In my late teens, when most of my contemporaries were enjoying the pleasures of the Swinging Sixties, I went bird watching. I don't know whether other people think of me as sad (not a sad old git, that's different), but to myself I am a bit of a sad nerd.

I am always amazed at the clear and expansive memories people purport to have of their childhoods. I have very few and have always felt that says something about me - indeed, I have observed others' bafflement of my blank answer to the question "did [insert name of son] enjoy [insert some harmless pastime]?" Is everyone else making these "memories" up? Anyway, I do remember going bird watching when I was supposed to be revising for my A Levels. Yes, I know this is dangerously similar to Theresa May's confession of running through a wheat field. A fellow nerd.

The other day I noticed in my garden (there's another thing people find baffling about me: my indifference to my garden and in particular my aversion to gardening; I have many times mulled over the possibility of astroturfing the lot) a bird table. A sturdy stone (or is it concrete?) bird table. This bird table has in fact been in the garden since I moved into the house 16 years ago. It is rarely frequented by the birds of the neighbourhood, as there is no food on it. The top is in the shape of a miniature motte in the middle with a moat around it, surrounded by a bailey. On the bailey is a delightful (some would say) miniature sculpture of a tiny bird.

[Ed: readers with a knowledge of medieval castle terminology should feel free to comment on any inaccuracies]

This rough-hewn castle top is supported by what can only be described as a small, intricately carved Ionic column, about two and a half feet high.

[Ed: similarly for those up in  Greek architecture]

There is a flaw in the "moat". A small crack in the stone which causes water to drain away very rapidly. So birds can get their fill of seeds but don't get to drink. How healthy this is for their bodies, I don't know, but I can supply seed in the hope that they will fly elsewhere to find liquid refreshment.

Anyway, I saw this bird table. Over the years, I have had occasional spurts of enthusiasm for attracting birds to my garden by supplying bird seed. I haven't done so for a while (I usually think of this during the fine weather of summer, which of course is counter intuitive for the birds who need their food supplements in winter, but this is for my pleasure, not theirs) but immediately saw an opportunity to fill a few self-isolating hours watching pretty little multi-coloured things flitting about enjoying the high quality seed I provided - and of which I discovered I had some.

So I settled down to watch the influx of bird life into my life, over the next few days. I even scrabbled through my book shelves and found a Field Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe (see - that's nerdy), in order to identify the myriad visitors (all of whom are not subject to social distancing rules, government edicts and police drones, but I'm not going there).

What's that little brown thing? I think it's a ... house sparrow!

And that one of similar size but more grey than brown - I think a dunnock.

She with a tiny yellow streak on her crown - it's my next door neighbour. No just joking, it's a female (hence "she") chaffinch. Then a great tit, which undoubtedly would prefer one of those nut cages you hang from branches.

Whoa! Who's this huge black thing? Could it be a raven? Probably not, Nigel, ravens prefer rocky ledges, albeit reasonably common on Cornish coasts (I can't quite see the sea from my house). It's a blinking great crow! Go away, you'll frighten the children pretty little birds!

I shoo the ugly crow away noisily, which causes the whole bird population of St Austell to give my garden a miss for a while. But what is this? Two huge, plump wood pigeons arrive and (very rapidly) scoff the remaining seed. No wonder they are so obese. When one of the tiny birds tries to sneak in around the edges, they peck at them and re-claim their territory.

For Bill and Ben - as I now call them - have claimed my bird table as their own. The seed has gone but they sit there....looking ominous....waiting....still waiting....Remember Hitchcock's The Birds? I do, very scary (I saw it in the cinema as a teenager - match that, Theresa May), and this is like that.

What to do? Theoretically I suppose I could capture them and cook them - nice juicy pigeon breasts. Is that even legal? Are they a protected species? Maybe I could find my old air gun I has when I was a teenager....no, I'm not going there, although that surely trumps Theresa May.

I wake up in the morning - maybe it was all a dream. No, they are still there, lurking, threatening - dare I go out into the garden ever again?

Going all Buddhist on myself, I ask whether one life is more valuable than another. Wood pigeon, crow, chaffinch - do they all have equal rights to my bird seed? Should I just accept that nature has allowed the big to bully the little? Who knows?

Actually, they are quite handsome, in their own ways.

Smoothie lunch

Banana
Oat Milk
Chocolate Whey
Peanut Butter
(should have cocoa but haven't got any)

Mm

I am currently reading...

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu. My friend Tony rails against the use of the term science fiction for space fiction such as Star Wars, but this is the real deal.

After I finish this, I shall be reading:

• The Crusades, A History From Beginning to End by Henry Freeman

I recently finished:

• The War Of The Worlds, re-reading H G Wells' classic some 50+ years after I first read it. Stimulated by the recent excellent Fox TV series, which was more a re-imagining than simply an up to date version.
• the miracle of castel di sangro (Ed: lower case as used in the title - no grammatical purist comments, please), not only a great football book but tremendous social commentary. "In the summer of 1996, in a tiny, impoverished town deep in the remote heart of southern Italy, a sporting miracle took place. The footballers of Castel di Sangro (population: 5,000) won promotion to Serie B, the division directly below the most glamorous league in world football."
• A Thousand Splendid Suns, the second novel by Khaled Hosseini, author of The Kite Runner
• And The Mountains Echoed, the third novel by Khaled Hosseini. All beautiful books.
• Killing Pablo by Mark Bowden: The Hunt for the World's Greatest Outlaw
• The Last Day by Andrew Hunter Murray: "Murray paints a grim picture of a draconian isolationist Britain" says the Guardian Books of the Month (really? you want us to read about ourselves, Nigel?)

I also have a bedside cabinet with a pile of half-read and waiting-to-be-read books, just waiting for me to delve into. All gathering dust waiting to be started/finished and gifted/lent by family/friends:

• Black Snow by Mikhail Bulgakov
• blink by Malcolm Gladwell
• The Potter's Hand A.N.Wilson
• Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
• Mao's Greatest Famine by Frank Dikötter
• The Charlton Men by Paul Breen
• The Bones of a Season by Paul Breen
• The Fatal Shore by Robert Hughes

and...

• a job lot of The Complete Novels of H G Wells (over 55 works one down only 54 to go) - £0.75 for the Kindle! That H G, he was a busy man!

Please feel free to share your current reading here; I'd be happy to know!