Party like it’s 1999

Despite nearly making Lorne weep with my admission that I had no idea who W.G. Grace was (‘Hmm, definitely sounds familiar. Was he a…writer?’), last night AKA The Spirit of Cricket launch party was a huge success. Although sadly not for my quiz team, as we scored a measly six points out of a possible 22, and for some reason our plea for extra points due to our excellent team name fell on deaf ears. Sycophancy gets you nowhere apparently – spoilsports. Mind you, I think 6 is a very respectable score indeed given that we were at a major disadvantage i.e. the fact that I was on the team.

The night was organised by Duncan Steer of SPIN Magazine, and took place at the Warrington in Maida Vale, which is a Gordon Ramsey pub no less. Now I have no real feelings for Gordon either way (unlike Jamie Oliver, who for some reason makes me angry on sight) but I tell you – his food is simply magnificent. Throughout the evening we were served mini fish and chips, mini burgers, mini sausages, salmon sandwiches and chocolate-covered strawberries, the last of which Mark refused to touch on the grounds that it seemed vaguely inappropriate – Nicola and I had no such reservations and chomped through a good plateful thanks to the attentions of an over-zealous waiter.

The evening kicked off with a short Q&A between Rob and Duncan – I would love to share what they said but like I say, I was very engrossed in those strawberries. A short break, in which there was a mad rush for a) the free bar and b) the unisex toilets, the latter causing great confusion amongst almost all attendees, and then into the aforementioned pub quiz where, despite Mark’s valiant efforts, The Rob Smyth Appreciation Society racked up six points. We had high hopes for Lorne’s quiz success, given his ridiculous cricketing knowledge, but he declined to take part on the grounds that ‘it wouldn’t be fair’. Yeah, yeah Lorne, we’ve heard it all before…

And then it was onto the home strait: we sold some more books, Rob did a signing and rose was bandied about like water. I chatted about colour schemes with a TalkSport producer, compared necklaces with Alex from the Guardian picture desk,  and played a variety of iPhone games with Bruno, coming to the conclusion, somewhere about 11.30pm and a litre of rose down, that I have no natural ability for any of them. On the plus side, I do know that W.G. Grace (1848-1915), Gilbert to his friends and Gibby to his family, was an amataur English cricketer who played 44 seasons of first class cricket and is widely acknowledged to be one of the greatest players of all time and although an outstanding all-rounder, is said to have invented modern batting *and breathe*. So – swings and roundabouts eh?

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