A Reindeer is not a Moose......

Robbie and Rudolf have had their work cut out this week looking after Mrs FLN. They are very tired and have been missing FLN more than usual.

So I am pleased to say that when they came to tea yesterday I was able to put them straight on the big talking point of the day in reindeer land and put their minds at rest.

You see they had been thinking that maybe, just maybe, they are really mooses after all and mooses have been having a bad press of late.

As most of you will know by now an adult moose can expel 2,100 kilos of methane a year equivalent to the carbon dioxide production of a car on a 13,000 km journey . So could it be that reindeers have the same eco not so friendly impact on our environment. Do we now know the real truth behind those innocent looking vapour trails behind Santa's sleigh as it flies through the clouds pulled by the reindeer as shown on all the best christmas cards.

All this came out but they just needed a few home truths and a little encouragement. Like

- FLN himself was responsible for more methane in one evening after a good curry than one reindeer produces in a month

- FLN's brother will be working on a blueprint to harness reindeer methane for central heating purposes at Rosary Road: so watch this space and hold your nose

- it's all in the diet: stay off the reindeer biscuits and eat more Milford preserve

.......so see you on Sunday and lets see what a 2 week old crumble will do!


for more information see link http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/science/article2310627.ece

Ebenezer sledging

Long long ago sledging meant snow and hurtling down the hillside on custom made speedsters with wooden seats and metal runners, or just improvised planks with splinters in awkward places, or even tea trays commandered for the day.

Nowadays sledging is a summer pursuit for those who play the great English game of cricket. It is the idle banter between the bowler fielder and batter mastered and honed by our friends from down under, the land of Oz.

We now even share jelly beans with the opposing batters by putting them on the pitch as a sign of their soft centre under pressure.

But is sledging really such a modern invention?

I recall my early teens playing cricket in the Bacup and District Sunday School League on the remote hillsides of the Pennines where matches were often played on mats laid on concrete in the middle of a farmer's field.

In those days we used to exchange the odd word or two. Fielders might enquire politely how the dry rot was coming on in the church building or how come we could only collect 2/6d at the annual anniversary collection or how did we like it when the Rev whatsisname spoke for hours on end in his sermon or the Rose Queen who turned out for us at the annual walking day had more of a likeness to a horse's rear end than the red rose.

There was one game with Ebenezer Baptist where things went a little too far. We knew there was something up when they took the field with the Rev Septimus Crow resplendent in clerical collar and frock. When I went out to bat he shouted as the bowler began his run up "a plague of boils on the enemies of Ebenezer!" and for each of the 6 balls in the over called down another of the plagues of Egypt on my head.

The next over was about to begin and I noticed what appeared like black jelly beans on the pitch. I soon worked out that someone thought it might be funny to drop some sheep droppings on a good length and give me a clear message about what they thought of my batting skills.

I felt a bit miffed at all this but tempers went to the boil as with 4 runs to win I hit an imperious cover drive off the Rev's bowling only to find its path to the boundary halted by a cow pat freshly deposited the morning of the match. The men of Ebenezer were no softies and without as much as a sniff or wipe the Rev picked up the ball went back to his mark and delivered a fearsome evil smelling bouncer at my head.

No helmets in those days but suffice to say I did not flinch but smote the thunderbolt over the boundary line for the winning runs.

Those were the days.

a tale of two cricket grounds

On Monday Teapot and I went with Mrs FLN, Baddog, Mrs Baddog and junior BD to the Test Match at Trent Bridge. We were joined in the afternoon by Doc Spooner who came by train straight from the Children's Hospital in Birmingham.

We had a great time watching Michael Vaughan at his elegant best and soaking up the atmosphere and the sunshine which has been a bit missing of late in these parts. The Doc came with his pilot case and the latest volume of Wisden, the cricket almanac; so I was treated to all of the amusing and obscure stories of the last 12 months in between and during the action on the pitch. It was junior's first test match and he was well taken up in it all. It reminded me of my dad taking me to my first test match and me doing the same for FLN.

There was an inevitable undercurrent in all of this. We came together because we are all bonded like glue through the loss of FLN and El Pasto last September. It was my first time driving to Nottingham since I went to El Pasto's funeral and thanksgiving and for the Baddogs it was their first trip to a cricket ground since that awful September day when they were with the two of them and Mrs FLN plus others at Edgbaston to watch England play Pakistan before they set off up the M6.

And so to yesterday when Teapot and me went to the Twenty Twenty finals at Edgbaston in Birmingham. Not the same kind of cricket and not improved by Lancashire's dismal performance.

But more poignancy. Where did they sit that Sunday? Thinking about the fun of that day and then not 2 hours after leaving the ground life on this earth was over.

We are now in rewind and replay mode. We approach September 10 and ask ourselves and recall what we were doing on this day or that day, when did we last see him or speak to him. And the video rolls on inexorably. There are other friends and no doubt family too who will watch the video over the coming weeks: not the same shots and not as much no doubt: but you will still be watching.

It is something we cannot avoid and nor should we. And as we watch we will continue to learn more about and explore that huge four letter word Hope.