Leith Franklin Academicals Beige Cricket Club

“Raah ha ha ha ha! And if you think that’s funny – did I ever tell you that I was the tallest wicketkeeper at Eton Ra ha ha ha ha!”

 - And there I was in the back of Uncle Archie’s rover rushing, heart a gushing, across the forth road bridge and over to the Kingdom of Fife. The silver haired six and half footer flooring the sumptuous v8 three and a half engine and it responding with a menacing and reassuring throaty roar like the man himself.

Ra hah ha ha ha ha! He chortled again his pipe dangling at a ridiculous angle from his experienced mouth. The smell of golden Virginia seemed to refresh an already existing scent of pipeswill that seemed ingrained in the 1970’s leather upholstery of a quality seldom, and unfortunately rarely seen these days. “Ra Hah ha ha ha ah ah!” he boomed again changing down to third and uplifting the engine whilst moving past the ship inn on main street Limekilns. Ha! This is my country, my people The land of the earls of Elgin – we’re on our eleventh now - but it was the fifth that envisaged this place and the seventh that built it.” I didn’t realise it at the time but, even though we were moving through Limekilns his mind was racing a full kilometre ahead to the picturesque hamlet of Charlestown – which for this day was to be the background for our days game of athletic endeavour and my debut for the Leith beige II’s cricket team – just think of it me Paul Bilkington playing for the Leige! What a dream…

That dream was shattered in an instant as Uncle Archie let one rip in the front seat his bowels seemed to ignite with the upholstery and create what we lads referred to as  ‘ a real Bronx cheer” now registered as a trademark for the ‘whoopee’ cushion brand I believe. They haven’t, however, I’m pleased to announce managed to recreate the odour involved – thank heavens for golden Virginia and thank the god lord for Archie Linklater our form master at the Leith links academy for churlish boys. I remember well in my formative years it was the then, dark haired giant, that showed us, at great length, sometimes taking as much as four hours to demonstrate, eventually, after a while, the total, total, necessity of the…forward defensive – “I’m a big lad – and just look at my shape” he would ejaculate whilst hulking forward of the crease defying anything of 5 and a half ounces to pass within bat and pad. Strange now though, it seems, whilst reflecting, it’s something that I’ve never really taken on board – that’s Bilkington for you though.

Arriving at the ground was no genteel affair either Uncle Archie deciding that the Rover should be put through it rally pedigree paces with a genuine 180 on the outfield ending in a perfect parking position between two of the opposition’s cars – if the owners had any concerns they failed to raise them as Archiebald raised himself to his full height whilst alighting the rover exclaiming “yes, John Le Mesuriuer, he would say that - that’s soooo Hugo Fluendy just ask Jill Dando or Ron Dennis!”

 All stuff far from my mind as I followed my new found companions onto the field the captain having won the toss and choose to field. And fielding it was too! 304 – 8.  That’s quite a total isn’t it? Wickets were expensive and difficult to come by “the silent assassin Saurabh Gutpta being the most frugal at 2-30 others less so Captain “manwearing ’ McKean at 3- 66. Seasoned campaigner Dicks, enthusiastic paceman Samir ‘Sammy’ Patel and Mr methane picking up a wicket a piece to place their names in the scorebook. Mention must go to Mr Ben wood who uncharacteristically failed to take a wicket, which, alongside a lack of dedicated field grunting must have surprised the dedicated throng of seven or so very vocal female ‘Bennifer’ fans that had chosen to take the long trip over from the Burgh. Soon to be married Ben is still I believe available for hen parties and as I was informed by Steven ‘ Vocanus tubus eruptus’ Middleton that  “If you want the wood – you can get the wood.” That Mr Middleton is quite a rake and quite a temper I hear – you wouldn’t want six of the tawse of him – that’s what the lads at the academy say anyway. Some of them that is: others just say he’s a tubby fool,

 During the break some of the older lads went for a smoke while the rest of us drank cordial.   When they came back they seemed very relaxed - it still amazes me how a mere cigarette can calm the soul.

 Batting was mixed affair with Uncle Archie going for a duck along with Hugo ‘the cad’ Fluendy Mr Methane got into his twenties McKean into his thirties and dicks into his sixties. Weather caught up with us though and the game was abandoned when I was into my twenties not out under the careful tutelage of Uncle Archie – who was by now in a very ponderous mood furiously smoking his pipe and changing the scoreboard with great intent.  The game was gone but the Liege had gained full batting points and ten of a possible twenty. Travelling back was exciting between uncle Archie’s darkening mood,  cronic flatulence and the speedometer hitting a hundred and ten on several occasions – I didn’t know if I be able to keep my cordial down Things brightened though when we got back to Uncle Archie’s estate in Gorgie and went his local ale house ‘Stratfords.’ “Fine day Landlord how about four flaggans of ale for these thirsty young men eh landlord!” he boomed across the busy floor, “Fuck off you posh twat.” Replied the heavily tattooed owner.