BEATING THE CLOCK

Evening Post, Volume CXXIII, Issue 47, 25 February 1937, Page 28

BEATING THE CLOCK

CRICKET FOR BREAKFAST

The close-of-play scores in the Test matches in Australia are heard by listeners in England four hours before the day's play begins if one goes by the calendar.

Commenting upon this fact in a recent issue of the London "Radio Times," A. A. Thomson writes:— There used to be a good old song, "Somewhere the Sun is Shining." In this phrase the poet expresses not merely a pretty fancy or a pious aspiration, but an incontrovertible geographical and meteorological fact., Somewhere the sun is shining; perhaps not in. London and certainly not in Manchester, but somewhere ... It is shining like billyho in Brisbane and Sydney and Melbourne 'and Adelaide; in fact, all over the jolly old Antipodes. Surely there is inspiration in the thought that, while we have fog in Flint, icicles in Ipswich, and chilblains in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, there are parasols in Parramatta,' blue skies in Toowoomba, and open-necked shirts in Coonavarrabran. There are Test matches in Australia, and all's right with the world. What's more, commentaries on the matches are to be broadcast. Here we see Nature and Science collaborating in perfect harmony. If I were a sculptor, I would like to knock out (in bronze or butter) an allegorical group, portraying this happy reunion. I can't give you exact details, but there would be twi> graceful female figures, with linked arms, carrying in their free hands a cricket bat and a portable microphone, respectively. A cheerful-looking lion and a friendly kangaroo would play at their feet. I say nothing of the fact that we shall hear the close-of-play scores at 8.30 a.m., that is, four hours before the day's play, begins. This is a natural and

scientific miracle, and I can't go into, it now, though'if I were a betting man, it might appear to open up fascinating possibilities. The crowning achievement of this broadcast is that it comes to us with our breakfast bacon. We are a great people, but, frankly, we do not shine at breakfast-time. At that hour geniality functions with difficulty. The British citizen, good soul though he is, rarely blossoms into sunshine and laughter before 11 • a.m. Moroseness mingles with the marmalade and melancholy marks him for its own.

But now, with cricket in and on the air, we have no longer any excuse for biting our families at breakfast-time. This usually irritable meal should automatically turn into a feast of reason and flow of soul. Stern faces should smile and hard thoughts should vanish, for there is always the chance that Leyland may have rattled up a hundred of the best or that Verity may have lured six or seven of the enemy to destruction. With such stirring tidings ringing in our ears, we can munch our toast with zest.