Hello all -
Happy Sunday!
One of my many spontaneous COVID-19 projects involved obtaining Australian citizenship to complement, not replace, my British status. My father was a fair dinkum Aussie from Melbourne. COVID extra time had triggered the long-held desire to nudge a little closer to my roots and, I guess, to my father. It took over twelve months but I got there... cobber.
This Friday is Melbourne Day in the state of Victoria. On 30 August 1835, John Pascoe Fawkner's schooner, Enterprize, sailed up the Yarra River to establish the first European settlement in the area. The settlement was later named Melbourne after the British Prime Minister of the day, Willliam Lamb, Lord Melbourne.
At that time, Melbourne was part of the colony of New South Wales, and New South Wales was part of the British Empire. The state of Victoria followed sixteen years later, in 1851.
In 1901, the six colonies (NSW, Tasmania, South Australia, Western Australia, Queensland and Victoria) federated to establish the Commonwealth of Australia. Melbourne became its temporary capital until Canberra took over the role in 1927.
142 years ago this week, 28 August 1882, marks the start of the first-ever cricket match between England and Australia on English soil. Venue - The Oval, London.
Australia had been a dominion of the British Empire since Arthur Phillip landed at Botany Bay with the First Fleet in 1788. Phillip died this week on 31 August 1814. This Australian-British dual status had caused increasing tension and rivalry between the two countries, none more so than in cricket.
Shock, horror; On the second day of the test match… Australia won! The victory may have been the first example of institutionalised pommy-bashing - a lot more was to follow. The English loss was quite unexpected and considered a national disgrace. Through practice, we’ve learned to play the role of gallant loser with more grace ever since*.
The Sporting Times called the loss, “The Death of English Cricket”. The paper went on to suggest that “the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia”.
Later that year in Melbourne, as the two teams prepared to square off once again, the English captain, Ivo Bligh, was presented with a small urn. The urn apparently contained the ashes of a cricket bail to represent the cremated remains of English cricket.
The Ashes, the biennial test cricket confrontation between England and Australia, remains one of sport’s great prizes. However, regardless of the score, that little urn, all four inches of it, always stays in England.
*I’m still English first, Australian second
Tuesday marks the anniversary of the birth (in Australia, unfortunately) of the greatest batsman of all time - Don Bradman. It was 27 August 1908, twenty-six years after that first Ashes match.
‘The Don’ would become an Australian icon. At the end of his 51st test match, Bradman’s test average stood at 101.39 runs per innings. As he began his 52nd and final test match in 1948, poetically against England, he needed to score a paltry four runs from what turned out to be his only innings of the match to retire with a test average above 100. The venue - The Oval, where the great rivalry had begun 66 years earlier.
The atmosphere at The Oval was electric. Bradman had announced his retirement in advance. The partisan crowd gave The Don a standing ovation. The English were willing an Australian to score runs for the first (and probably last) time. The English team gave three cheers. The world of cricket held its breath. Bradman settled at the crease.
Two balls later, he was out for a duck (i.e. no runs). Incredibly, he hadn’t scored a single run, ending his career with a test average of 99.94. Despite the crushing disappointment of the day, Don Bradman remains cricket's greatest son by some distance. The second-best test batting average of all time is currently 61.87.
Bradman was born on the same day as the 36th President of the United States, Lyndon B. Johnson (27 August 1908).
Mention the name Lyndon Johnson and you'll be told that he was the president who took charge after Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. You might also hear that he was responsible for the escalation of the Vietnam War in 1965.
But history will also recognise his ambitious program, The Great Society, whose objective was to reduce poverty and racial injustice in the USA. Johnson collaborated with Martin Luther King Jr. to advance civil rights legislation.
King had suitably stirred the pot with his inspirational speech on civil rights, delivered 61 years ago this Wednesday, 28 August 1963:
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.
Footnote: the world’s oldest living person, Maria Branyas Morera, died peacefully in her sleep at her nursing home in Olot, Spain, last Monday. She was 117 years old, arriving into this world in 1907, a year earlier than Don Bradman and Lyndon B. Johnson.
Latest podcast episode...
Episode 39. Operation Clinker
During the 18th and 19th centuries, the British (via the East India Company) cultivated opium in India to export to China - up to 2,500 tonnes each year. The outcome… widespread opium addiction and social unrest across China. This, in turn, led to the First Opium War between the British Empire and China.
This Thursday, 29 August 1842, marks 182 years since the Treaty of Nanking signalled the end of the war. China was forced into numerous concessions, including the surrender of Hong Kong to the British, with whom it remained until 1997.
That preamble gives me the excuse to revisit a previous episode talking with former rugby-playing friend, Bill Renwick. Bill joined the Hong Kong Police in the 1980s and was a protagonist in one of the great Asian drug busts of the time, Operation Clinker.
While stationed in Hong Kong, Bill volunteered to work undercover with the narcotics team that seized a record haul of drugs (along with its perpetrators) somewhere in the South China Sea.
Bill tells the extraordinary story with charm, self-deprecation and plenty of laughs. Thanks again, Bill.
Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or just about any other podcast player of your choice. Check out the Operation Clinker for the links and transcript to learn more.
My favourite quote from the episode (tricky as there were so many)...
Bill: There was a thing they used to do out there called 'fish bombing', which was illegal, which was basically... they'd go out in sampans at night, big bright spotlights shining into the water, to track the fish up, and then they'd lob dynamite in.
…. we all sat around and met the village elders and one of them was called 'Ah Sek' who only had one arm. He'd lost it in a fish bombing accident, you know that was a sort of badge of honour I think. He was quite revered.
Steve: Did he elaborate on how he lost his arm?
Bill: Uh, no, not specifically, but I think it was just probably hanging onto the dynamite for too long.
Listen to the clip here.
Podcast extra...
By the way...
A couple of weeks ago, I joined two long-suffering school friends for a weekend on the Grand Union Canal. The narrowboat experience comprises frequenting a succession of pubs linked by stretches of canal. One such pub, The Boat at Berkhamsted (see image below), served up an excellent bangers and mash.
British canals have existed since Roman times, but the golden age of canal building was the late 18th to early 19th centuries. Today, the Canal & River Trust maintains over 4,500 miles of canals across the country, primarily for leisure, not for stoking the fires of the Industrial Revolution.
The section of the Grand Union Canal through Berkhamstead where we had lunch was opened 226 years ago this Wednesday, 28 August 1798. I’m sure I’ll return to the subject of canals in the future. Thoroughly recommended! Thanks Vince and Pete.
Dates with History...
Tuesday…
You may remember I checked out the world’s shortest-serving leaders a few weeks ago. This Tuesday marks the anniversary of the world’s shortest war — the Anglo-Zanzibar War, 27 August 1896.
At the time, Zanzibar was a British protectorate. The British-appointed Sultan Hamad bin Thwaini had died. His nephew Khalid appointed himself the new Sultan without checking with the British first. Somewhat peeved, the British Navy lined up offshore and bombarded the palace relentlessly. Forty-five minutes later, Khalid fled and the war was over.
Later this week…
Thursday marks the birthday of Jack Butler Yeats, 29 August 1871. Jack was destined to be famous only as the brother of the poet W.B. Yeats. That is until the International Olympic Committee included art as an Olympic event in 1912. As such, Jack achieved his own acclaim by winning a silver medal at the 1924 Paris Olympics for his painting The Liffey Swim.
Question of the week...
"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."
Twelve years ago today, 25 August 2012, marks the death of Neil Armstrong, the world’s most recognised astronaut who delivered those immortal lines as the first man in history to step onto the moon in July 1969. Twenty minutes later, Buzz Aldrin joined him. What was the name of the third astronaut who remained on the command module Columbia for the duration of the mission?
(answer at bottom of newsletter)
And finally...
The former Poet Laureate, John Betjeman, was born 123 years ago this Wednesday, 28 August 1906. Last year, I chatted with Tim Wells about life as a voice actor - Episode 25: Confessions of a Voice Actor. At the end of our conversation, we thought combining one of Tim’s classic voices with one of my favourite poetry segments would be appropriate and fun. I hope you agree.
Tim recited the first stanza of The Last Laugh by John Betjeman in the style of David Attenborough:
I made hay while the sun shone.
My work sold.
Now, if the harvest is over
And the world cold,
Give me the bonus of laughter
As I lose hold.
If you'd like to hear that snippet, check out The Last Laugh.(14 seconds)
Spread the word...
If you've enjoyed this newsletter, please help me spread the word by forwarding it to a friend.
If you have received this newsletter from a friend and would like to receive your own weekly copy of The Breezer, then feel free to sign up here.
Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
P:S: Incidentally, I am always keen to receive your feedback to help me continuously improve this newsletter and the podcast. Just hit reply to this email and...... let it rip! I respond to every email that I receive.
Answer to Question of the week: XMichael Collins. Collins (below, centre) spent over 20 hours alone on the command module during the mission, often out of touch with Earth as the module passed behind the moon. Sounds quite lonely.
NEXT WEEK'S BREEZER
Julian days to Gregorian ways: Britain’s 11-day vanishing act
LAST WEEK'S BREEZER
Careening your way to success
Attribution (cover image): From The Sporting Times, September 2nd 1882: Death of English Cricket.
THIS NEWSLETTER IS PUBLISHED ON THE BATTING THE BREEZE WEBSITE WITH A 2-WEEK DELAY. TO RECEIVE YOUR PERSONAL NEWSLETTER ON THE DAY, WHY NOT SIGN UP NOW. THANK YOU.
You can listen to the Batting the Breeze podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or any other podcast player of your choice. See podcast player links at the top of this page.
Copyright © 2024 Logical Business Ltd. All rights reserved.
