Stanford Twenty20 match report

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We probably should have published this nearer the time when the whole undercutting of the PR hoopla via profound disinterest made more sense. Never mind. Just imagine that it’s Stanford week and you’re sick of it.

Miriam writes:

The big day started in a bit of a rush as we were leaving the holiday cottage in Cornwall we’d been in for a week, so I ate leftover potato gratin for breakfast and packed. We then spent a few minutes dodging dog poo at spooky Roche Rock before popping into the Jamaica Inn gift shop. Here is a picture of their resident cat.

Unarguably a cat at Jamaica Inn

We then drove through Bodmin to try to avoid the worst of the traffic on the A30. Here is a sign we passed on the way.

Higher Bore Street is gay

We also drove through a place called Lanivet which we had passed several times during the week and which had temptingly advertised a “men’s breakfast” (except without the possessive apostrophe). Here is the sign.

Imaginary o'clock

By this time it was about 10.30am and we saw some happily-breakfasted men rolling out of the church. We did ask the Men in our party if they wanted to stop for breakfast while we went away and did our nails or something, but they didn’t.

We stopped at a petrol station for lunch (sandwiches and sausage rolls) and petrol. We also pumped up the tyres, which cost 50p. 50p! I remember when that used to be free, or 10p MAX.

We stopped at my mum’s house on the way for a cup of tea. Then, on the way to my flat, I made a bit of an error at Victoria by getting my 2s and 3s mixed up and got the wrong bus home, so we had to walk in the rain for a little bit.

Once we finally arrived home, I ordered pizza, which arrived in time for the cricket. I had: chicken, salami, aubergine and feta cheese. Actually, writing this has made me want that pizza again. I may order it tonight. The Man had mushrooms, ham, bacon and prawns.

After the cricket, I went to bed.

Another account of a cricket fan going WILD for the Stanford match
Our own Stanford Twenty20 experience

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17 comments

  1. Mims, I’m disappointed you didn’t get a black marker and correct the men’s breakfast sign.

    I think I would have stopped and added it. Then I might also have added a childish scribble, like the boys who live near Higher Bore Street.

  2. From the Mount Zion Church Newsletter from Gorran Haven in Cornwall: ” After enjoying yet another superbly cooked, appetizing, healthy (sic!) English breakfast, we listened to our guest speaker Martin Oliver from Lanivet…” Now then! Martin is obviously the one to write to about the missing apostrophe – plus he may have copies of his rivetting talk “Men see things differently to Women” have it on hand if Stanford ever throws another shindig

  3. Suavester, I should have done shouldn’t I, except I kept putting it off and then the last time we went past there were breakfasted men around, and I didn’t want to antagonise them when they were full of energy from their breakfast when I’d only had potato gratin.

    Ceci, men may see things differently to women, but does that excuse apostrophe blindness? I don’t think so!

    Reading this again has made me want the same pizza meal, so I’ve ordered it for tonight.

  4. My grammar used to make a fantastic breakfast fry-up – alas she took the secret of her eggy bread to the grave.

  5. jrod – as his most royal cricketness is currently tanning parts that none of us should ever dare think about, I have updated the link to your site.

    On another note, since you’ve started your own religion, have you had any thoughts as to which high-profile celebrity you intend to ensnare as your first evangelist/bankroller/crazy-person?

  6. Mims, wonderful report. A lack of apostrophes angers me greatly, though less than extraneous apostrophes, which make me want to scream.
    The greatest ever graffiti I have seen appeared on a sign in West London, ammending it to say “Corney ‘sex’ Reach”. It would leave me chuckling for hours.

  7. Top report. Men full of breakfast are not to be messed with. Especially on the point of apostrophes’s’s’s.

    Has anyone seen that apostroph’e mistake on that film poster: “The Curious Case of Benjamin (something) or other”? Apparently, there’s an horrendous its or it’s.

    Bastard’s.

  8. Good report,
    from it I deduce that you live A) quite near me, or B) in the other side of London from me, or C) are me.

  9. Prince Stickball, I didn’t realise King Cricket had minions. Are you Monty the Cat, and if so how did you get over the whole opposable thumbs issue to be able to type?

    Ne, or I could be your stalker.

    DC, the benjamin button doesn’t annoy me as much as “Double Jeopardy”, which had the tagline “Murder isn’t always a crime”. Yes it is, because murder is the NAME OF A CRIME.

  10. was it you who thought it would be a good idea to cut the part of my seat belt that was dangling out of my shitty little old car a couple of nights ago? That’s a stalkery thing to do.

    It was.

    I knew it.

  11. Mims, you don’t need opposable thumbs to type!

    Or to use a computer at all, come to think of it.

    Don’t get me started on apostrophes. GRRRRRRRR.

    Lastly (as I’m pretty late to this one), the best bit of graffiti I ever saw was scrawled in foot-high lettering on a wall in Withington:

    HOMOSEXUALS ARE GAY.

    Fact :o)

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