Wormsley (Wurmz-Lee)
adjective
1: Characterised by or abounding in worms. More commonly ‘worrmy’. Old English from proto-Germanic *wurmiz (Source possibly Old Saxon, Old High German) Old Norse ormree or Gothic waurmsy perhaps taken from the Latin vermisy. from root *wer (2) “to turn, bend a lot”
Example: (1) “Barry, Th’ dogge is scoochin’ agayne, sure he’s wormsley playne.” (Excerpt from ‘Rotten Luck in the Cotswolds’ – Chaucer’s lost works.
SHOPPING LIST!
Wormsley is not a cricket ground in a city nor is it a cricket ground in a town nor a village nor a borough nor a hamlet. It’s a cricket ground on a private estate in Buckinghamshire neatly tucked away behind a hill from the prying eyes of motorists plumbing their way along the M40 and for all the imagery such a place might inspire it couldn’t be further removed.
LINT.
I ran out of water within half an hour of arriving at the joint so I asked one of the grounds keepers if there was a place to get a refill and we got to talking. Mick Jaggers name came up of course. The estate had been passed down through the generations from back in the 12th or 13th century. Prior to that one can only assume much of the same had occurred until at some point in the 1970’s it came up for sale and some American called Mr. Getty bought it. Whether this Mr. Getty character was friends with Mick Jagger or Mick Jagger was friends with him couldn’t be ascertained but what could be ascertained was that Mick Jagger somehow convinced this yank to like cricket. In fact, Mr. Getty ended up liking cricket so much he decided to build a cricket ground replete with turf training nets, a pavilion and a statue of Ben Hollioake which was labelled ‘The Unnamed Cricketer’ apparently to save Ben the inconvenience of developing delusions of grandeur.
For anyone that might read this who hasn’t heard of Ben Hollioake his is a tale of tragedy. A very well-liked young man who’d played cricket for England and died in a car accident. The only aspect of Ben’s story that I’m having difficulty piecing together is that he was an English man who was born and died in Australia.
Confusion
I just looked up this Mr. Getty geezer and it says he’s English… his pops was a yank. When Mr. Getty passed away he handed it on to his son Mark Getty of Getty Images. Now, how Mick Jagger got shoe horned into this story and who he was supposed to have convinced to like cricket has become murky at best. The short end of the long of it is that some people have got too much money. One of these Gettys has a ‘the 3rd’ suffix on his name and when that sort of behaviour begins you can be sure that things are getting too stuffy. That said, it is a truly beautiful ground and I loved the experience. I just felt like a thumb on a fist full of fingers walking around in my track pants and hoodie as patrons chatted and chortled whilst sitting on picnic tables nibbling cheese. Thank you Mr. Getty!
A game of Cricket Happened
Coincidently there was a game of cricket between the Sparks and the Vipers in the Rachael Heyhoe Flint one day trophy tournament.
I would like to go into the game but there isn’t much to say. The Sparks batted first and hung on for dear life blocking their way along at 2 runs an over. It was looking like they might get rolled for under a hundred until a rear guard action catapulted them to all out for 160. The Vipers maintained the ascendency with the bat and paddled along at their leisure collecting the required runs by the 35th over.
I felt a pang of jealousy as I left the ground. I grew up playing cricket from the age of five with a home made cricket bat and a taped up tennis ball and here was a family with an international grade cricket pitch in their back yard. I wondered what it must be like to grow up with so much money? Is the grass really greener on the other side of the fence? I peered over the palings as I rolled away and comforted myself by reasoning that at least I didn’t have to mow all the grass on the other side of the fence.