‘I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member ‘ – Groucho Marx
As I shared on Facebook in the last month: ‘By a strange and convoluted series of events, I found myself representing Sytner (Rolls-Royce) in a croquet tournament at The Hurlingham Club today.’
This is at least as fancy as it sounds. Google tells me that, ‘The Hurlingham Club is an exclusive private social and athletic club located in the Fulham area of London, England. Founded in 1869, it has a Georgian-style clubhouse set in 42 acres of grounds. It is a member of the Association of London Clubs.’ I don’t know who else is in this 13,000 strong club but it’s unlikely to be be me any time soon. Apparently it’s one of those old money things where membership is handed down through the generations or by marriage. You must have someone propose you name and a seconder but the waiting list is now closed indefinitely, so it’s a non-starter for the rest of us.
We played our slightly surreal croquet tournament on lawn number 6 and spent most of the afternoon thanking our departed Dad who taught us the game when we were younger and more athletic. Our annual holiday at a guest house in Kent had a lawn where we became familiar with the rules and quirks of both the game and the grass we played on. Practising hard, we discovered where the bumps and divots were and could (mostly) adjust our strokes accordingly.
It’s a shame because the facilities are magnificent.
The trouble we had at Hurlingham was that the lawns are so exquisitely smooth that we were continually over-hitting the balls. They just kept on rolling… The hoops were also horribly narrow; no ‘croqueting’ (hitting an opponents ball and subsequently whacking them out of the way) was permitted, although we were allowed to bump others out/in the way depending whose side they were on, and no extra turns were to be earned by successfully navigating a hoop. Each match played for the best of five hoops in teams of two. I was surprised to learn that you can also be offside in croquet; not a rule I’d ever come across before.
For those not au fait with the game, I can tell you that I have seen the mildest of individuals absolutely loose their mind on a croquet lawn arguing over rules and routes around the course. It’s a game of strategy without the incessant boredom of a chess game (akin to watching paint dry in my opinion) and with a modicum of glee expressed through the physicality of bashing heavy balls around the lawn with a wooden mallet. So, cathartic too.
The added challenge for me was that two hours after I’d agreed to accompany my sister and make up the pair required for a team, I fell off a double height kerb in Surrey, landed ignominiously in the road and spent a tedious few hours in A & E waiting for the inevitable X-ray, boot and crutches. None of these things are considered assets in any sport or game I can think of, with the exception of the Paralympics and apparently the IOC are still stubbornly refusing to include croquet.
We were not the first choice of representatives for Rolls Royce (I can’t think why). In terms of corporate networking we were worse than useless although we enjoyed the company of some lovely people as well as the contents of sumptuous refreshment hampers which included fresh strawberries and Pimms, providing quintessentially English summer vibes under a relentless sun.
We did rather throw a spanner in the works of the individual who nominated us by winning two our of our three matches and so propelling the team through to the final. Ooops! Dad would have been proud and I trust Rolls Royce were not embarrassed either.
My thanks to the professionals who gamely coached us through the version of the game they had devised for the afternoon, with humour and tips. I am pleased to say that I learned both the theory and practice of the ‘jump shot’ that day.
Unfortunately, with the final to be played the following week, I had to bow out as I left Blighty for Cape Town two days later, where the temperature is significantly cooler as autumn is pushing nto winter with the usual accompanying storms.
Sadly, my sister and my niece (who gamely took my place) couldn’t crush the opposition in the final, but had a great time anyway. As for me, I will always be able to to say that I retired as a winner on the field of croquet battle at the famous Hurlingham Club.
If anyone is looking for a player, do get in touch, it really is tremendous fun.
dancingthroughchaos 