While down in Derbyshire last week, we enjoyed a trip to Chesterfield and I especially enjoyed lunch sitting on a bench at Queens Park, watching the groundsman going about his duties. A game would have been nice, but...
Anyway, as we ate our rolls, I pointed out various places where Dad and I had sat and regaled my wife and kids with the stuff of legend. Perrin's 300 in a day and still his team were beaten, George Pope's demolition of Yorkshire, Cliff and Les...
My daughter was especially interested in the tale of Charlie Lee being accompanied from the ground by a couple of ducks as he completed a pair back in the 1950s and looked with interest at the boating lake as I pointed it out. The same boating lake that Chris Wilkins peppered with sixes when he played there.
"Those nets wouldn't have been tall enough for Wilkins" I said, pointing at the additional safety measure in front of the kiddie playground.
"Can we go on the train now Dad?" said Rachel, impressed by the miniature loco chugging round the lake.
"You mean you don't want to hear about the day we bowled out Middlesex here for 23? Or about the Gillette Cup semi-final of 1969? Or about Ian Bishop bowling at the speed of light against India here?" said I
"Yes, I do, but maybe on the train... or maybe later" she said, sweetly, taking my hand.
"Come on Dad, let's go. Maybe we'll see one of those balls lying somewhere on the way round on the train".
We got up and walked across to the lake, Rachel leading the way, my wife, son and I a little behind. Suddenly she stopped and looked back, then across to the lake
"You know, that really is a long way to hit a ball Dad. I'm impressed. Who was he again?"
Can a man really love a daughter more?!