I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
A. E. SHIPLEY
1 A mythical beast akin to an ibex used in heraldry and associated with the arms of the Royal Family since Tudor times. It also figures in those of Christ’s College, Cambridge, of which Shipley was Master.
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Timed Out
5 July 1926
Sir, The Eton and Harrow match is again at hand. May an imponderable quantity, who with countless other such, has suffered from four consecutive draws, venture a suggestion?
Whatever the rule, could it not be the practice in this match for the ingoing batsman always to leave the pavilion gate for the wicket as the outgoing batsman reaches the pavilion gate? Considering that there are 30 to 40 intervals on the fall of wickets, during each of which at least a minute (on the average) is lost, more than half an hour would be saved. Last year’s match would have been finished and not impossibly that of the year before. In fact, one has seen several draws in this match which another half-hour would have converted into a win.
This definite practice would have one other advantage: it would automatically save whichever side was tempted in that direction from lingering to the legal limit between wickets to avert defeat. Good sportsmanship, as a rule, takes care of that, but one remembers hearing shouts of “Hurry up!” The reasons against this saving of time no doubt will now be given to him, for they are with difficulty imagined by
Your faithful servant,
JOHN GALSWORTHY
The Nobel Prize-winning novelist had been captain of football at Harrow. His suggestion did not bear fruit until 1980, since when incoming batsmen can be given out unless they get to the wicket within a short time, now 3 minutes.
The annual cricket match against Eton was a highlight of the summer Season.
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Silly Point
11 August 1926
Sir, Down ’ere we be ’mazed along o’ they writer chaps an’ the goin’s on o’ they Testës. Laws be laws, an’ rools be rools, an’ they as makes ’em should keep ’em. Paarson — they sez as ’ow the rev’rend gentleman played fer the Blues afore ’e was so ’igh — tell’d us: “Once they arm-chair crickets gets yer into the papers, yer ’ave to be’ave yerself ’cardin’lye. That be the crucks of the matter.” I never learned French lingo, but we agrees along of ’im. So do Joe Rummery, as ’as umpir’d fer us nigh fitty yers.
Laast Saturday we at Firlin’ played a side from Lunnon — furriners, they be — an’ we ’ad two goes apiece, though I knaws we only played from foor till eight, cuz Farmer Beckley said Eb an’ me must finish that ten-acre field first.
I was out twice leg-afore, an’ it bain’t no use sayin’ “wot fer,” cuz Joe wunt be druv. “If it ’its yer leg, yer goes out, sartin sure,” sez Joe, who knaws the rools. Joe ’as the same coppers to count over-balls as when he started, with picturs o’ the Good Queen on ’em.
We thinks as ’ow they chaps at Lunnon be narvous, else ’ow should they be allus callin’ fer tay as soon as they be done dinner? An’ these paper chaps makes ’em wuss, a-tellin’ us wot it be about, pilin’ up pettigues (Paarson sez “worries”), till they batters wunt knaw whether they should be ther at all, or som’eres else.
Firlin’s played ’ere ’unnerds o’ yers, long afore that ther Mary Bone lady started ’er pitch at Lards in Lunnon, though we likes ’er, an’ ’opes she’ll keep purty blithesome an’ not fergit that we be cricketers too. We ain’t wantin’ foor stumps, as we finds three a plenty, an’ we ain’t thinkin’ that they pros an’ such like ’ave read the rools. If they did as Paarson sez his Irish friend did — when yer sees a ’ead, ’it it— ther wouldn’t be no cause fer this gurt talk o’ foor days.
I am, &c.,
F. CARTWRIGHT
It was felt in cricketing circles that, because of advances in preparing pitches, modern batsmen were scoring too freely off bowlers. Reforms to what was then regarded as the national game were mooted by correspondents to The Times. The options generally favoured were widening the wicket with an extra stump or extending the duration of first-class matches from three to four days in the hopes of enabling fewer to be drawn. In the event, no changes were made, prompting England some years later to target Australian batsmen rather than their wickets: see Bodyline p. 116.
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British Films
18 March 1927
Sir, I hope that Mr. Percival’s excellent letter in The Times last Wednesday will persuade those who still have minds to make up of the folly of the Government’s muddle-headed proposals for meeting mediocrity more than halfway. Professed patriots are at times very hard to understand. They prefer the word “British” to cover a multitude of sins rather than wishing it, as the more arrogant and less noisy of us do, to stand as a symbol of merit. Why a sandbag rather than a lantern?
On another page of your paper I read that a number of eminent authors and actors have placed their services at the disposal of a new enterprise called “British Incorporated Pictures.” This is, I think, the only country in the world that has not yet realized that films must be conceived and interpreted as films. None of the really great pictures have been adapted from books and few of the great performances, with the exception, of course, of Miss Pauline Frederick’s, have come from stage actors. Until literature and the theatre realize that the cinema is not a subsidiary concern to be despised intellectually and exploited financially we shall never get down to the real problem of producing good British films. After all, painters do not tell us that they are taking up the violin in order to help music!
Yours faithfully,
ELIZABETH BIBESCO
Elizabeth Bibesco was an author and the daughter of Herbert Asquith, the former Prime Minister, and his second wife Margot Tennant.
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hats Off
22 April 1927
Sir, A duty on hats would be no new thing. A century ago no self-respecting gentleman could visit France without bringing back a Paris bonnet as a present for a lady friend. But the gift was of no value unless it was smuggled. At the landing port a number of bareheaded women used to board the packet-boat on arrival. For a consideration, one would don a bonnet and go on shore with it thus making it free of duty. As soon as it was safely on land it was returned to its rightful owner. When I was a boy my father used to tell me stories of the filthy heads on which the Paris creations were brought on to British soil.
There is a legend that one of the Imperial crowns of Delhi, in the possession of an English officer after the Mutiny, was similarly brought to England, but on the head of the owner’s baby. That baby it is said, later became a distinguished General.
I am, &c.
GEORGE A. GRIERSON
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“Sarah was Right”
2 September 1927
Sir, Our weather prophets are sadly incapable of interpreting the future. I was confronted this morning with the