Archive for June, 2009

T&T trip: cricket

It was good to be where talk of cricket comes naturlly, even in the bank, where the TV was cued to the 20-20 competition then underway. The mercurical West Indians, thoroughly thumped by England in the recent Test and one-day series, salvaged some pride by turning the tables on the Englishmen, the Guyanese duo of Chanderpaul and Sarwan holding out for victory. Then we came up against the wily Shri Lankans for a chance of going into the semi-finals, and folded, captain Gayle batting through the innings for 80. The Lankans went into the finals against Pakistan and were roundly defeated, the Muslim cricketers easily prevailing against their Buddhist counterparts. But the story of the competition featured, unblelieveably, Dutch cricketers. Netherlands trounced England, and for good measure, did it at the holy of holies, Lords!


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T&T trip: public art

Some wise person or persons decided that the commercial adavertising long defacing the walls around the Queen’s Park Oval be scrubbed and replaced, incredibly, by the work of Trinidaad artists. A free art gallery for the marish and the parish! It was such a brilliant idea it was co-opted by the purveyors of the strutting new hotel and conference complex on the watrfront, next to the refurbished Breakfast Shed. I went wild talking pictures of some wonderful stuff on those walls (and now wonder if I can feature them on my photo Blog). But, you know, it was too resplendent a gift for some to bear: some genius ran a nail, orĀ  screw driver, along the length of the northern wall of the Oval, a thin white line of shame marking the transgression. Thoughts of pearls and swine, cobo and sponge cake, come readily to mind.

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Another side

I saw on the Huffington Post today that Michael Jackson sought out Deepak Chopra from time to time, that he was familiar with Sufi poetry and with the work of Rabindranath Tagore. There is so much about this troubled hero that was hidden from view, some of it pointng to a need he obviously felt and which prompted him to search for something not represented by, and far from, the searing spotlight. Seems this remarkable fellow was emotionally imprisoned in his childhood and was a kind of Peter Pan to himself. But he did touch the world, and not many of us have the genius to do so.

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