Tales from the Boundary
A number of years after I last played a cricket match I took my ten-year-old son to Bigbury-on-Sea to play a golf tournament. He did quite well and I had to wait while he was picking up his prizes from the golf shop. So, I went into the bar where two blokes were having a drink. "Hello, Geoff", I said to one of them. He looked at me blankly. "I'll give you a clue", I said, "Colchester, Castle Park". The years fell away as recognition dawned.
Geoff Richardson, Stuart Pritchard and I, for a season or two, in various combinations, comprised the Colchester Seconds bowling attack, aided by the off spin of Martin Pawsey and the slow left arm of Max Page.
Geoff was a Frank Tyson clone, mostly in that he was follicly challenged (bit short on top). His bowling action was more Tom Cartwright, however, maybe slightly quicker than Bill Edrich.
Stuart was large, bowled left arm over; imagine Fred Rumsey after a winter break. Stuart played second row for Colchester Rugby Club. He once caught an incredible slip catch off my bowling; off cutter, nicked by a left hander, flew high, slightly wide and handsome. The report in the Essex County Standard said he "leapt like a ballet dancer", well, like one of the matronly elephants in Dumbo. I returned the favour, moving from front of square to behind to take a high one off a pull which concluded the win.
Martin was one of the Pawsey brothers who, with their sister (Angela), ran Cant's Roses. Roger produced/propagated the near black rose, which he named 'Just Joey' after his wife. Martin was permanently tanned from hours working in the open. He shared captaincy duties with 'Pokey' Dye's son, Chris. Max Page did something in the City.
Sometimes, on the days when it's hot - as opposed to warm - I think "Did I really play in temperatures like this?" Must have done I suppose. But I can't recall many drinks breaks.