Beware The Injured Pig

When last we spoke, Big Fat Pig was looking forward to his trip to the refined golfing environment that is Woburn. He was still looking forward to it when he went for a run on the day before his departure. He was still looking forward to it as he rounded a corner at the two-thirds mark of his 5k route. Then he stumbled. He inclined forward but hoped he might be able to rescue his balance. He was wrong and he still has the vivid recollection of that moment in time when he started assessing how least injuriously to land. In the end he favoured his left side and took particular care to avoid hitting his head on the dwarf wall. Outcome - bloodied left knee; bloodied left shoulder; bloodied left hand; grazed right hand. All of this he can live with, can even deal with the lack of dignity associated with these mishaps (a nice lady walking her dog enquired after the Pig's well-being) but the real damage has been to the Pig's ribs. Not to put too fine a point on it, they're bloody painful. The Pig forgot himself yesterday and allowed a sneeze. The effect is rather akin to how one imagines it might feel to be stabbed.

The Pig was not to be put-off his trip to Woburn. And he was right to soldier on. The healing powers of Ibuprofen and the quality of the company combined to make this another memorable trip. At the root of all the fun was the stellar hospitality of VB and MB. Alcohol should not be underestimated as an anaesthetic. WM and ViperJohn joined the Pig as guests.

I have written about Woburn before but I must say that, if anything, I was even more impressed this time. We played the Marquess on Thursday and the Duke's on Friday. I had, in particular, forgotten just how fabulous a course is the latter. This despite a mildly grumpy starter on the Duke's who gave me a very dodgy look as my sore ribs and I duffed two drives (I played a provisional) into the trees on the right. Out of his caustic sight I played tolerably well and ViperJohn and I wiped the floor with WM and MB. All a far cry from Royal Pype Hayes but linked by the joy of a game played in good company. I had to cry-off Pype Hayes on Monday as the ribs took their full revenge on my daring to play at Woburn. The picture is of the fourth hole on the Duke's - arguably the most stunning hole on the property.     

The Craven Reimagining Of Cricket

Pop will eat itself. Here I go again.

As if Twenty20 cricket was not craven enough with its elevation of pub cricket (and don't get me wrong there's nothing wrong with that in its place) into something somehow godly, now we have the utterly detestable Hundred. A sub-seventeen over thrash for professional cricketers, a game devised by marketing men who hate cricket. It is served up to us by commentators who have swallowed the grim lie that this is the greatest thing ever invented and that it will 'save' the game. If this is the price then this precious sport is not worth saving. Nothing sums things up so much as the televised enthusiasm of that great talent, Kevin Pietersen - a man who sees no harm in selling the soul of the sport he graced for a mess of pottage.

Thus yesterday we had the pitiful and meaningless Hundred sharing attention with a Test match which really did what great sport can do - that is to say, expose the fallibilities and the potentials of participants. As it happens the fallibility was all English and the potential all Indian.

Pop will eat itself. God, I feel old! 

Hats And American Noir

A scathing review has it that Ed Norton optioned the source novel for Motherless Brooklyn with a cynical view to picking himself up an Oscar for portraying the central afflicted character - the disabilty in question being Tourette's Syndrome. That may or not be true but, whatever, he didn't get the award and the performance is nonetheless a tour de force shot through with humour and compassion. Norton also adapted, produced and directed so this stands as a fairly formidable cinematic achievement. Yes, the film is too long and relies overly on exposition in its dialogue. But the nods to film noir are pleasing and the necessary hats are fabulous. For those with an eye to less-than-subtle nuance there is even a bit of Trump bashing in Alec Baldwin's portrayal of the villainous property developer. Not, then, a great film but a very good one. 71/100.    

Sound Of Metal

I watched this film a while ago but overlooked blogging about it. That was a mistake because this is a compelling piece of cinema. It is about a recovering, addicted thrash metal drummer who becomes deaf. If that sounds daunting well yes and no. Yes you need to have your serious head on to get to grips with the material but no because it's beautifully realised. A serious artifact. 81/100.