England v Stanford Superstars match report

There’s been a slight case of queue-jumpery here and we apologise. But it is with good reason.

Several of you said that you wouldn’t be contributing Stanford match reports because you weren’t watching the match. We asked for Stanford match reports for a reason. We want to document true cricket lovers’ experiences of the $20million match.

String writes:

Our friends Harry and Romina came over for dinner. Catriona and I decided to cook something relatively simple, so it was chorizo paella. In the afternoon we went to Majestic to buy a case of beer and a case of wine. The man wouldn’t let us try the wine we wanted to. I scowled at him, but he still wouldn’t let us. We got a case of some Chilean red plonk in the end and a case of St Peter’s ales.

Harry and Romina turned up at the wrong station at about 7.45pm, in the middle of X Factor and since it was hoying down, I drove out to pick them up. Harry broke the wing mirror off the car by slamming the door too hard.

We got in, watched what was left of X Factor, drank some ale and ate some nibbles. Harry has had a lifelong aversion to snack food, notably crisps, but encompassing nuts and twiglets and the like. So we had small pork pies – the king of finger food – with mustard.

We had dinner, followed by treacle tart with custard. Romina is French and had never had treacle tart before. She approved greatly. We then drank a bit of wine and had a bit of a lounge around and a chat. We watched the goal of the month competition on Match of the Day. Then we drank some Ricard and listened to some iTunes. We decided that we might try and hire a cottage in the Hebrides next year some time for a long weekend.

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8 Appeals

  1. Hecky thump!

    VIP doos, dinner parties, cottages in the Hebrides…….this place is getting a bit up-market for me.

    My Twenty20 for 20 evening consisted of me drinking my way through a slab and taking pictures of the telly with my new camera.

    Top report though String. Absolutely no mention of cricket what so ever! Did Harry and Romina stay the night or did you have to run them back to the station after all that wine and ale?

  2. Ed, why didn’t you send us that flawless match report you’ve just produced in email form?

    What a waste.

  3. KC, Saturday night at nine oclock….memories are a bit too vague for a report.

    I just remember Paddy (my dog) being even more indifferent than I was (despite the fact that he was lying on the sofa against my express instructions):

    http://i292.photobucket.com/albums/mm10/edstanyer/Twenty20%20for%2020/Paddy.jpg

  4. shameless queue-jumpery.

    do mine.

  5. no, MINE! it had photos and everything, only one of which was of a cat.

  6. Imagine! Your first ever taste of treacle tart being an adulthood experience following chorizo paella and cheap Chillean plonk.

    No proper frame of reference.

    No wonder the French don’t understand the English and vice versa.

  7. St. Peters Ales FTW!

    The warm autumn sunshine beat down upon us as our boat skimmed lazily over the turquoise waters of the south Ionian sea. I lay on the deck, half-snoozing as my shipmates sailed us towards our destination (occasionally turning sharply in an attempt to make me fall in). Before long, we made port and prepared for an evening of wine, food and more wine.

    I checked my phone. One voicemail. “Hi, it’s Sarah from Carrington’s [a rather fine local off-licence]. Just thought I’d call to let you know that we’ve just had the whole St. Peters range come in. They’re going fast so you’d better get down here!”

    Arse. On the one hand, an off-licence good enough to tell me when some of my favourite ales had come in stock. On the other hand, being thousands of miles away, albeit on a fantastic yachting holiday.

    I went from elated to slightly gutted, and proceeded to drink vast amounts of wine to make up for it all.

    Happy days. And completely on-topic, as I was wearing a cricket hat at the time.

  8. Mahinda, it was all going so well until you mentioined that bloody hat.

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