Today the weather was gorgeous - the type of day that people in England talk about having happened once in the summer of 1976. By a lucky coincidence it was also the day of Tere, Raimundo, Rosario, and Silvi's birthday barbecue in Tilden Park. Nice weather...a park...I immediately sprang on the opportunity and dug my cricket bat (lovingly imported from home) out of the back of the cupboard.
The Muckers and I arrived just as the coals were heating up and Raimundo was carefully laying half a cow onto the grill. As ever, the food was delicious and plentiful to satisfy the hordes of guests (Chileans know how to party). After filling up, it was time for the games to begin.
I gave Vince a quick coaching sessions and we picked the flatest piece of grass we could find. As Claire toddled about I decided to bowl a few half-volleys for Vince, to allow him to get his eye in and get used to a decidedly green wicket.
He patted the first ball back nicely with a decent forward defensive and, emboldened by his success and feeling the same rush of blood that has been the downfall of so many batsmen across the years, he went after his second ball a little more aggressively.
Claire, obviously recognising cricket as the great sport it is and wanting to be part of the action, had moved into a close fielding position - silly mid off, to be precise. The tennis ball (as these things sometimes do) flew straight at her head and pinged off into trees. There was a few moments of silence...then the screaming started.
Of course she was alright, but Vince and I were given a fairly severe time out by mummy Christine and the bat was taken away. "Come on, what are the chances?" Vince pleaded. "With you, 100%," was Christine's accurate reply.
Sun, grass, trees, party.
Raimundo is in charge, finishing off the pig shortly before the cow arrived.
Cutie pie!
Vince assumes the position, seconds before 'the incident'.
All better, and ready for her close up. You can't keep a princess down.
