1,000 Umbrellas & Attack of the Morphs

Tony Hart's latest attempt at World domination. This is what a plague of Morph's looks like.  And it's art. 

After some months away, I had been invited back to appear on Emma Britton's show on BBC Somerset, being broadcast this particular morning "live" from the BBC bus at Barrington Court. As it is the middle of flaming June, I naturally woke up to the sound of heavy rain smashing against my bedroom window and a strong wind howling round the eaves.  Looking out across the streets and rooftops of Crewkerne it was a vista of wet misery and countless umbrellas.  Ah, it must be nearly Wimbledon fortnight.

I drove down to Barrington Court and arrived just after 8.30am.  The bus was parked up behind the court house and I was soon inside chatting to Emma and her team.  It was nice to be back with them again.  I was on the show with a lovely lady who worked as a fundraiser for Marie Curie Cancer Fund called Amy Llewellyn from Yeovil.  Our first burning topic of the day was do you throw your rubbish out the car window, or take it home with you.  Just like Question Time... Our second topic was as it is nearly Father's Day how do you feel about your father.  Well obviously my Dad is an absolute hero of mine, so I bigged him up tremendously - I hope he appreciates just how famous he is in Somerset now.  I also managed to get in a plug for my lovely friends The Tudor Roses, which they were very grateful for later.  My pleasure ladies!

When the broadcast had finished I bumped into Barrington potter Paul Jessop who very kindly invited me to his birthday party this evening (Saturday) and was then taken into the Court house to have a sneaky peak at the art installation you see in the picture above - Antony Gormley's "Field for the British Isles" that at first glance appears to be a massive convention of Morph characters from "Take Hart".  But on closer inspection it really works on so many levels - tens of thousands of these figures in three different rooms in Barrington Court, each with a beady pair of blank eyes staring at you, and each one subtly different from the one next to it.  They also gently change colour as well, so you get swathes of terracotta, then a deeper rustier colour cuts through, then slightly greyer etc.  And in the large kitchen, the sun cut through briefly and dazzled on the little army of figures.  Well worth a visit - particularly if you like Morph and being stared at.

The rain and horrible weather continues - will summer never come?  "And just when I thought that my vista was golden in hue - 1,000 umbrellas opened to spoil the view..."

A busy week next week - Newberries School in Radlett, Herts on Monday, then back to West Pennard near Glastonbury on Wednesday and Paulton Junior near Bristol on Thursday.

Cricket!

This Saturday just gone was the annual Clapton v Wayford long grass cricket match. As you can see from the picture on the right, the pitch was a little...ahem...rough, and helpful to all the bowlers. Now you have to remember that Clapton is a small village just outside Crewkerne in Somerset, and Wayford is a tiny hamlet attached to Clapton. So who had the most players who turned up? Yup! Wayford. I played for my village, Clapton, for the fourth year running. I hadn't intended to play, being somewhat hampered by being the size of the R101 and also having had a dodgy ankle for the past year, but David Lockyer came round and after showing me a photo of W.G. Grace and sobbing into a copy of Wisden's Almanack he convinced me to turn out.

For the first time in many years it was a beautiful day - if anything, it was too hot. But a splended match was played and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Wayford won the toss and inexplicably decided to bat. Clapton took regular wickets, but a couple of their players made big scores. Playing in the match reminded me just what it is I love about cricket - it is such a contest on so many levels, cerebral as well as physical. Now I haven't played regularly since I left Essex over 10 years ago, and when I was first brought on to bowl by my captain, David, the incumbent Wayford batsman was a young strapping lad of about 18, covered in muscles and obviously someone who had played a lot of village cricket and he seemed determined to smote me to all corners of the ground. So I took him on, firing in deliveries to his toes, or if he charged down the pitch to me, I would drop the ball in short and make him worry about where the hell it was going to go. And if you had seen the pitch, trust me you'd know it was a mind bender. Just a strip of grass mown short and then with a Land Rover driven over it a few times. My first over to him, despite some huge heaves he took at my slow trundling deliveries, was a maiden - perfect. He finally got me away for a four in my second over, but that was the only scoring shot he got off me. I was very happy! I snaffled a couple of late wickets to give me figures of 4-1-15-2. I was pleased with my work. We contained Wayford to 134 from their 30 overs.

After a lovely tea interval it was our turn to bat, and after a sparkling start from David and sundry others, we got a bit bogged down in the middle order, with poor old Charlie Swaffield unable to connect his swishing bat to any ball, time after time! By the time I came in, quick runs were the order of the day and I scampered through (OK, waddled) to get to three before being caught in the deep off a desperate heave. Clapton succumbed to 116 all out. So Wayford won for the first time in three years, but it was just a complete joy to play in such a lovely atmosphere.

In the evening I wandered over to Barrington Court and watched an hilarious comedy history show about all of England's monarchs down the years. Obviously their impersonation of Henry VIIIth was not a patch on mine (I wish!) but the rest of the show was brilliant.

A visit to Cobbatton Combat Museum with Matthew Applegate of Barrington is the order of the day this Wednesday. I shall report back then!