Arlott, Swanton and the Soul of English Cricket

Screenshot 2020-07-03 at 15.28.51Growing up in the 1970s and early 1980s, the BBC’s Test Match Special was my summer soundtrack. I loved the ritual of turning on the radio just before 11am in time for the start of play in a test match. It was a treat to hear the rich Hampshire accent of commentator John Arlott, the voice of cricket. Arlott also wrote for The Guardian, taking on the mantle of the legendary Neville Cardus.

The other great name in cricket journalism during the mid 20th century was EW (Jim) Swanton. The two men were chalk and cheese yet Stephen Fay and David Kynaston’s wonderful book Arlott and Swanton and the Soul of English Cricket shows unexpected similarities. Most notably, both men hated racism and were appalled by South Africa’s racist apartheid laws, which segregated races and treated non-whites as second or third class citizens. As pressure grew to cancel South Africa’s 1970 tour of England, Arlott said he would not broadcast tests if the tour went ahead. And Swanton argued strongly that South Africa should field multi-racial teams. That didn’t happen until the 1990s, after the end of apartheid. More on that later.

Continue reading

Coronavirus: explaining and balancing risks

Screenshot 2020-06-27 at 21.45.30

The risk question: helmet or no helmet?

The coronavirus pandemic has raised an age old question. How do we assess risk? More difficult still, how do we balance competing risks?

The COVID-19 crisis has thrown up a stack of such balancing acts. The most prominent one is where to strike the balance between health and economics. But other trade offs are apparent. Should we shut society down in the hope of killing the virus? How do we help the young, who are by all accounts much less at risk?

Yet our view of risk changes over time. My 16 year old aunt took 13 year old Dad to the cinema in London in the middle of the blitz in 1940, retreating home hours late after an air raid. Less dramatically, as a nine year old I’d venture alone across 1970s Cardiff on my bike to my aunt and uncle’s house in Rhiwbina. No one had ever heard of a bike helmet back then. Perhaps some children tragically ended up under the wheel of an Austin Maxi – but it didn’t stop us exploring on two wheels.

Screenshot 2020-06-27 at 22.25.46

Don’t get me wrong. We were right to make work and life safer. Too many people died unnecessarily. The Great Western Railway introduced ‘automatic train control’ in 1906 to warn drivers when they were passing a ‘distant’ caution signal. Later, the GWR system applied the brakes if the driver didn’t slow down. It saved countless lives. It took half a century and the catastrophic Harrow & Wealdstone and Lewisham disasters before nationalised British Railways introduced the same safeguards on the rest of the network.

Similarly, once controversial measures to tackle drink driving and smoking now seem like common sense.

Yet human beings are not good at understanding and assessing risk. Take cycling. I have had a cycling helmet for almost 30 years. I usually wear one. (Though I didn’t in the photo opening this post – climbing a very steep hill to Todi in Umbria in 2004.) Most parents today would be horrified by the idea of not putting a helmet on their children as they pedal up a deserted road.

But helmet use should be a choice. We need to get children into active lifestyles, such as cycling, walking and sport, to reduce the risk of obesity. A report in 2017 suggested that 35% of children were overweight or obese at 11. Yet MP Bill Grant demanded that children be forced to wear helmets, so criminalising a child pedalling down a quiet cul-de-sac without a helmet. This shows a complete inability to assess risk. Banning McDonalds and fizzy drinks would be far more effective.

Screenshot 2020-06-27 at 23.19.55

Lesley Whittle

It’s a similar story with child abduction. The tragic story of Madeleine McCann, still front page news 13 years after the three year old disappeared in 2007, heightened fears that children were at much greater danger than during our childhood. Five years earlier, the murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman in Soham, Cambridgeshire shocked the country. Yet child murders are remarkably rare, and are at historically low rates. Most are committed by parents or others known to the child. The difference is that today’s saturation media coverage and social media interest raises the prominence of tragedies. (Although I vividly remember the media frenzy about the awful ordeal of Lesley Whittle, a 17 year old kidnapped and killed by Donald Neilson in 1975.) We need to remember that such appalling cases are vanishingly rare. Be sensible, and teach children how to spot risks. (The age old advice about not taking treats from strangers remains relevant today.)

The communications lessons

Back to 2020, and the coronavirus conundrum. Global companies face a dilemma: do you take the same approach everywhere, or tailor policy and advice by region? Should you keep working from home globally, or allow countries like Australia and New Zealand to return to (close to) normal?

There’s no one answer. But whatever you decide, explain your approach.

Communication is key. It’s striking that the leaders who are natural communicators and educators like Jacinda Ardern have shone in this crisis. Leadership isn’t about bullshit and bluster. The greatest leaders educate the public. This hadn’t struck me until I read Steve Richards’ wonderful study of British prime ministers of the past 40 years. The greatest failures, like Theresa May, don’t even bother. Thatcher famously used her experience as a housewife to explain why the nation needed to spend no more than it earned. (Though the parallel was arguably misconceived.) And Tony Blair – at least before the historic blunder of the Iraq war – was the great communicator, bridging the then gap between traditional Labour and aspiring middle class voters.

Boris Johnson should have all the advantages. He has a vivid turn of phrase, when he remembers to speak English rather than Latin. He’s a larger than life character and people have in the past forgiven him a lot because of that. (Except in Liverpool.)

But the prime minister seems to lack any sensible advice in government. Dominic Cummings may have helped win the Brexit referendum, but so far has proved a disaster as Johnson’s chief adviser. The prime minister has a majority of 80. He should ditch partisan campaigning in favour of statecraft. Ditch the vengeance against people perceived not to be ‘one of us’. Learn a lesson from Roosevelt in the 1930s. Take the public into your confidence. Admit there is no simple answer: that we have to balance health and economics. After all, mass unemployment kills people as well as viruses. Children’s life chances are being damaged by lockdown. Start a conversation.

Cycling my own lost lanes

 

Screenshot 2020-06-13 at 20.57.09

Lost Lanes – an inspiration

I recently discovered the Lost Lanes series of cycling books by Jack Thurston. They’re an inspiration, with evocative 1930s style covers, gorgeous photos and intriguing touring routes. I can’t wait to explore Rye and Romney Marsh, an area that has intrigued me since reading Malcolm Saville’s Lone Pine mysteries set there when I was a child. And those lovely Welsh border roads.

In the meantime, I’m exploring my local lost lanes. Tonight I cycled up to Hodgemoor Wood above Chalfont St Giles on my mountain bike – and promptly got lost. It is uncanny how easily I lose all sense of direction in this small woodland area.

D28C2D1B-7B9A-488B-96F4-43324D463363

Classic Chilterns: the view from Mumfords Lane

The real object of this evening’s ride was Mumfords Lane, a narrow lane that links the A40 between Beaconsfield and Gerrards Cross with Layter’s Green near Chalfont St Peter.  I’d never cycled it before but it was a perfect opportunity to widen my route repertoire. There was climb from the main road but my mountain bike’s low gearing made it easy. The view from the top was gorgeous – one I had never seen before, even though it’s barely three miles from home. I’ll be cycling this lost lane again.

5CCB5FD6-A8D6-4FE4-A482-6DF6EBC846CB

I was lucky to dodge a heavy June shower. I sheltered under a tree as I pulled on a rain jacket. This was the scene as the sun came out as the rain eased over the A40. This was once the main route from West Wales and Oxford to London before the M4 and M40 were built in the 1960s and 1970s.

11B156D3-841D-4ABF-BA79-16B3B2073C22

I’ve really missed cafe stops on my lockdown bike rides. Especially the longer ones, where a coffee and cake adds to the pleasure. A week ago, I decided to do something about it. I can’t reopen cafes, but I can take my own tea or coffee, thanks to my new Klean Kanteen insulated water bottle. I enjoyed my tea and snack overlooking Maidenhead’s historic road bridge this lunchtime. I even brought my Costa collapsible mug!

Screenshot 2020-06-13 at 20.57.26

I’ll end on a Lost Lanes note. As a proud Welshman, I smiled when I saw Jack’s note on my copy of Lost Lanes Wales. Cymru am byth – Wales for ever! Thank you, Jack. 

How to solve Garmin Edge false heart rate readings

I’ve had various Garmin cycling GPS devices for almost nine years. I’m a fan, as you will gather from my posts about the Edge 800 and Edge 1000. I’m now mainly using an Edge 1030.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found that the heart rate reading showing on the Edge was wildly inaccurate early in a ride. In some cases, by 60 beats a minute compared with the rate on my Apple Watch. Often the Garmin rate would be falling, even though I was climbing a hill. What was going on?

I followed the care instructions, wetting the heart rate strap before every ride and washing it regularly. But to no effect.

Finally, the penny dropped. I wasn’t wetting two small rectangular patches on the band. here’s one on the right of the band:

Screenshot 2020-06-11 at 14.42.46

And here’s the other, on the left of this photo (in the middle of the band):

Screenshot 2020-06-11 at 14.43.06

This should have been obvious looking at the diagram on the band:

AC071E5E-2EC3-4694-A508-7A035AE32291_1_201_a

Once I wetted all four patches, the Edge tracked my heart rate perfectly for every ride. That saved me buying a new strap!

Beware of GoPro handlebar mount

Screenshot 2020-06-11 at 11.53.04

The mount in place as I climb to Glenshee, August 2019

I loved my GoPro handlebar mount. I liked the way I could move the camera to film  ahead or to the side. I made good use of it on last August’s Land’s End to John O’Groats bike ride. In bought it after cycling and gadget blogger DC Rainmaker praised it in a review.

But last week, as I was cycling along a suburban street in Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire, it broke, catastrophically. I heard the sound of something falling off my bike. A light? No, my GoPro 7 Black camera. The metal joining the two parts of the mount had failed, casting my camera and the top part of the mount onto the road. (The bottom bit remained on the handlebar.) Happily, it wasn’t run over by a car.

Screenshot 2020-06-11 at 12.07.03

The failed mount

You can see here the point of failure – a metal rod connecting the two parts of the mount.

I contacted GoPro customer support to report the problem. I wasn’t necessarily expecting a refund – I had bought the mount in April last year. But I was shocked when the agent essentially accused me of lying when I said there was no impact causing the catastrophic failure. I was simply cycling along a suburban street. I’d never used it off-road. In any case, shouldn’t a GoPro mount be able to cope with something more than a local, tarmac street? Aren’t these meant to be action cameras?

I guess I will have to look for something sturdier, such as a K-Edge’s metal ones. But it’s a shame, as the GoPro mount suited me. Before it broke on a suburban street.

UPDATE, Monday 15 June

I am delighted to say that after I contacted GoPro again (thanks for suggesting that, DC Rainmaker!) Michele Eve contacted me, apologised for my original experience and offered to send me a replacement. Excellent customer service – thank you!

Dominic Cummings: the lies that shame Boris Johnson’s government

Screenshot 2020-05-23 at 19.46.31

Dominic Cummings: shameless

Boris Johnson’s failing government was on the ropes tonight after the prime minister’s chief adviser refused to resign after breaking England’s lockdown rules. Dominic Cummings travelled 260 miles to Durham when his wife developed COVID-19 symptoms.

The government had already been fiercely criticised for its car crash response to coronavirus – see my previous blog posts here and here.

The government’s response to Cummings’ disastrous mistake will make it far more likely that others will decide to ignore the rules. After all, if the rules don’t apply to the PM’s chief adviser, then logically they don’t apply to anyone else. It’s just the latest example of the government’s PR own goals. And on the day that The Times published an editorial asking ‘Where is Boris Johnson?”:

“The government is … paying the penalty for its poor communications. This risks undermining public confidence at a vital stage in the fight against the pandemic. For this much of the blame lies with Mr Johnson. It is the prime minister’s job to provide leadership. Yet he has been largely missing in action and not only when he was in hospital. Since his televised address two weeks ago, he has made one statement to the House of Commons, which remarkably was his first since the crisis began, and he has turned up twice to prime minister’s questions. Apart from that he has attended no press conferences and given no interviews. Instead he has left the communication of public policy to a succession of ministers, whose uneven performances have often added to the confusion.”

It was pitiful tonight to see an array of cabinet ministers sycophantically tweeting support for Cummings:

Screenshot 2020-05-23 at 19.36.14

Screenshot 2020-05-23 at 19.34.21

Screenshot 2020-05-23 at 19.32.43

Screenshot 2020-05-23 at 19.37.37

It is beneath contempt to claim that criticising an unelected official for breaking the law is politicising the matter. Cummings will surely be gone in 48 hours.

Cummings has been regarded as a political and communications genius by many after his role campaigning for Britain to leave the EU. It is clear tonight that his reputation as a messiah has been overstated. In reality, he’s just a very naughty boy.

Covid carelessness: UK government’s PR failures continue

I blogged in March how the UK government’s confused communications about coronavirus were risking lives. (Careless talk costs lives.) Sadly, things have not improved.

E34297E0-51BE-4327-AC8F-9E3DD9F8A618_1_101_o

False hopes

These were the headlines in the UK national press on Thursday. A nation straining under lockdown got a clear signal that freedom was beckoning. The hope raised is likely to be cruelly dashed when Boris Johnson announces whether the government is to make significant changes to lockdown rules for England. That seems unlikely with COVID-19 still far from contained.

Those headlines didn’t happen by accident. They would have been based on briefings from the government’s PR teams. This was carelessness – recklessness even – ahead of a warm bank holiday weekend marking the 75th anniversary of VE Day. Caution was needed. Sure enough, the following day’s headlines marked a gut-wrenching handbrake turn:

34ED25DF-8FA3-48B6-8454-0786507F9390_1_201_a

How could Boris Johnson have allowed this to happen? In a health crisis, words matter. The UK government has failed to apply the basic rules of crisis communications. What a contrast to the way the Scottish and Welsh governments have done things. They have been clear and consistent. You can sense the frustration in Holyrood and Cardiff Bay at the failures in London.

Matthew Parris in The Times (paywall) today brilliantly summed up the prime minister’s failure to lead and communicate. In his column, he captured the bumbling prime minister in the Commons as he struggled to string a thought together, never mind a sentence:

“The prime minister: “A-a-as I think is readily apparent, Mr Speaker, to everybody who has studied the, er, the situation, and I think the scientists would, er, confirm, the difficulty in mid-March was that, er, the, er, tracing capacity that we had — it had been useful … in the containment phase of the epidemic er, that capacity was no longer useful or relevant, since the, er, transmission from individuals within the UK um meant that it exceeded our capacity. … [A]as we get the new cases down, er, we will have a team that will genuinely be able to track and, er, trace hundreds of thousands of people across the country, and thereby to drive down the epidemic. And so, er, I mean, to put it in a nutshell, it is easier, er, to do now — now that we have built up the team on the, on the way out — than it was as er, the epidemic took off …”

Cruel but accurate. Johnson long ago perfected his persona as a bumbling, rather chaotic player. This seemed to provide a front for a man who was actually ruthlessly ambitious. Yet, now, we wonder whether it’s not an act after all – that, to quote Gertrude Stein, “There’s no there there”. Matthew Parris asks in The Times today whether Johnson is actually up to the job. He says:

“We need to be persuaded that the leader is leading: in charge, across his brief, able to bang heads together and when key decisions loom, equipped and ready to take them.”

Screenshot 2020-05-04 at 09.29.05

Wales takes the lead

It’s clear that the first ministers of Wales and Scotland have decided they cannot afford to allow London to lead coronavirus communications. True, Mark Drakeford and Nicola Sturgeon come from rival parties with little time for Old Etonian bluster. And Sturgeon in particular has an agenda to show that Scotland is better going its own way. But they have their own responsibilities in their respective nations. Drakeford announced on Friday only “modest” changes to the coronavirus lockdown in Wales, warning it was “too soon” to go further. That has to be right. Why did London not do the same? Why did Johnson delay his announcement until Sunday? It’s hard to imagine any new trends or data emerging over the weekend to justify a major change.

As Matthew Parris concludes, “This crisis is a flight into the unknown and we need the captain to stop the blustering and talk to us like grown-ups”.

Testing, testing

It’s clear now that the government seriously blundered over its target of providing 100,000 COVID-19 tests a day. At the end of April, it triumphantly trumpeted that it had reached that target on the last day of the month. But suspiciously, it then failed to meet the target on every single day of the following week. It’s hard not to conclude that the government was playing games. That’s the last way to govern and communicate during the greatest health crisis for a century.

The failures to keep promises to provide tests and personal protective equipment for NHS staff and carers recall an episode early in Churchill’s wartime premiership, recounted in Erik Larson’s superb new book The Splendid and the Vile.

Talking to a general recently evacuated from Dunkirk in 1940, the prime minister commented, “I assume then that your Corps is now ready to take the field?” The reply: “Very far from it sir. Our re-equipment is not nearly complete…” Churchill, taken aback, checked the reports that claimed that the general’s division had been replenished. The general gave a devastating retort: “That may refer to the weapons that the depots are preparing to issue to my units, but they have not yet reached the troops in anything like those quantities”. At that, according to Larson, Churchill was almost speechless with rage and threw the misleading reports across the table towards the chief of the imperial general staff. Winston wasn’t interested in massaging figures; he was outraged that the troops hadn’t got the equipment that the reports claimed had reached them. If only Churchill was in charge in 2020.

Boris Johnson could learn a lot from his hero, who became prime minister 80 years ago today. As I blogged on the anniversary 10 years ago, our greatest premier reflected:

“As he returned from Buckingham Palace as prime minister, Churchill had tears in his eyes as he told his detective that he was very much afraid it was too late. “We can only do our best.” But as we went to bed at 3am the following day, he reflected a profound sense of relief. “I felt as if I were walking with destiny, and that all my past life had been but a preparation for this hour and this trial.”

VE Day, 75 years on

88AF084A-6A66-4994-B936-C6449D6401FC_1_201_a

My grandfather at a Penarth street party, VE Day 1945

Today, Britain marked the 75th anniversary of the end of the second world war in Europe, VE Day. It was a muted occasion, held in the shadow of coronavirus and in the grip of lockdown.

BAE7F788-6C75-494A-B004-02FA0F3BF173

The 75th anniversary was more muted

True, the BBC replayed Churchill’s broadcast from 1945. And the Queen will broadcast to the nation at the same time as her father George VI spoke to the Commonwealth in 1945. (The Queen pitched it perfectly as always.) Broadcasters will offer a tired selection of wartime films.

6C407AEF-9319-4256-9161-A27ADFF636EF

Chalfont St Giles, Bucks: a coronavirus-closed pub marks VE Day 75

In a curious way, perhaps this was an appropriate way to mark the occasion. It is time for Britain to look to the future, rather than continually harking back to those six years, critical though they were. We will always remember those who sacrificed their lives. I will always be fascinated by histories of those critical years. (I highly recommend James Holland’s War in the West series.) But perhaps we will now set aside these huge anniversary commemorations (apart from the 75th anniversary of VJ Day this August) until the centenaries from 2039 to 2045.

Screenshot 2020-05-08 at 21.32.02

Victory: Churchill about to address the nation

On VE Day, Churchill in his broadcast said, “We may allow ourselves a brief period of jubilation”. On the 40th anniversary in 1985, I contrasted that sober comment with the enormously hyped BBC coverage of the anniversary. It felt then as if the jubilation had never ended. Perhaps now we can built a better, more equal world, just as the people of Britain yearned for one in 1945 as they rejected Churchill’s Conservatives and gave Labour a landslide victory two months later. The NHS, the subject of 2020’s adoration, was the result of that peaceful revolution.

Churchill added in his broadcast: “Let us not forget for a moment the toils and efforts that lie ahead”. Few on 8 May 1945 would have taken notice of that cautionary note in their huge relief that the war, in Europe at least, was over.

2020: an Easter like no other

There’s never been an Easter like it. All the churches in Britain were closed, and family parties, day trips and holidays cancelled. Beaches and parks that would have been packed on every other sunny, hot bank holiday were this year deserted.

Priests tended to their congregations in new ways. My great friend Anthony Beer is priest at Laleston and Merthyr Mawr near Bridgend in South Wales. This Easter Anthony held Eucharist on Easter Day in the vicarage garden – as you can tell from the photo on the left, it was a very different congregation this year. (By contrast, one Easter at nearby Wick Anthony brought two lambs to church on Easter Day, as seen in the second photo!) Anthony like so many other priests is ministering to his flock by phone, email and social media.

As Anthony remarked, the Easter story is of being transported from sadness and darkness to joy and happiness. Millions around the world will have prayed and hoped for happier times around the corner.

What a contrast to Easter 2019. A year ago, we were staying in my hometown, Cardiff. On Easter Day, I cycled to our favourite Welsh beach, Dunraven, Southerndown. It was a gorgeous spring day, much like this year’s Easter weather, and I revelled in exploring familiar countryside by bike not car. I even discovered an abandoned pub, the Cross Inn near Llantrithyd, which closed in 1939 after 239 years.

IMG_1639

Easter Day 2019

I close this post with a photo that captured that joy of the setting of the sun after a beautiful day. This classic E Type Jaguar was parked outside my father’s then home on the Esplanade, Penarth, Vale of Glamorgan. Presumably this Easter this lovely car was standing silently at home, waiting for life to return to normal.

As Anthony remarked on Easter Day 2020, the Easter story transports us from sadness and darkness to joy and happiness. Millions around the world will be hoping and praying that happier times are around the corner.

Coronavirus: a spring like no other

0BDE663F-6C8B-41DC-8887-2A39247B596C

They called 1940 ‘the Spitfire summer’. It was one of the finest summers of the 20th century. The endless dry, sunny days and azure skies provided a vivid backdrop to the Battle of Britain. Some seasons in history provide a stark contrast between nature and reality.

Spring 2020 is proving similarly contrasting. The coronavirus lockdown is taking place during possibly the most vivid British spring of the 21st century.

DF09D2CA-F6FF-4A60-93EE-A190CE0C61A3

I have relished this extraordinary spring during my lockdown bike rides from home in Buckinghamshire. Today, I marvelled at the glorious birdsong as I made my way to Burnham Beeches, including the call of the majestic red kite. As I skirted the beeches, one red kite swooped down barely 10 feet away from me. He landed on a tree by the side of the road, thought better of it and flew off, those immense wings giving him lift. Burnham Beeches is a historic area of Buckinghamshire woodland owned by the Corporation of London. It’s the closest I’ll get to London for some time…

6F2E8B0F-6824-45B2-9B78-137796AE013CYesterday, I was thrilled as confetti-like blossom blew in the warm wind across the country lane in my path. These natural delights soften the pain of lockdown, and give an intense taste of life renewing as well as fading; a high note of joy to lift us from the daily tragedies of the COVID-19 pandemic.

AF271DA2-936B-456E-92FD-FB8455BD662B

No one’s London-bound: the M40/M25 junction

The lockdown has emptied our fume-fuelled motorways and roads. Today, I cycled past the M40/M25 junction, above. How many times have I waited patiently in the rush hour on the slip road on the left to join the M25? Today, Easter Saturday, it was deserted. No one was hurrying to Heathrow or London. Birdsong ruled.

AC748307-97E5-447B-8994-DED7FB34BCE4

A silent Good Friday, Cliveden, Bucks

On my Good Friday bike ride yesterday, I paused to reflect on this stunning explosion of blossom at the pub opposite the entrance to the National Trust’s Cliveden estate. I love my rides to Cliveden for tea and cake on a weekend afternoon; that pleasure will have to wait. It is sad to see so many fine town and country pubs closed and quiet. Let us hope that they will reopen when the pandemic is under control.

F4EB6D2A-8E98-4A55-9FC2-E6D5273A3281_1_201_a

Camper vans: a home from home

Karen and I both saw Volkswagen camper vans on our respective exercise sessions today. These classic campers inspire an idea of freedom and the open road. For now, that idea is just a dream. The campers are on the drive, rather than the upland roads and sun-kissed beaches of Great Britain and beyond. Their moment – our moment – will return. For now, let us enjoy this spring san pareil. It’s our equivalent of that Spitfire summer as history is made as nature unfolds.

B978FCCA-DF09-4A8F-A26C-5E8149F39B02