The sport of kings: Mornington Crescent

[ComeIntoTheGardenMaud]

Good morning, all. What better way to begin the long weekend than a new game of the ineffable Mornington Crescent? All are welcome - veterans and newbies alike.

To set the tone, I will start with one of my favourite moves - a double shunt to

Kew Gardens

Ahhh time for the old reliable…

Belsize Park

I'm back after a weekend of perusing the MC library in the old rectory. Delightful as always, although single malt was sadly lacking. But then again the curate never did have much grasp of the purse strings (although in other areas he is most impressive).

Anyway!

A centrifugal Watson to Mile End

Ah, the old rectory. Last time I was there, the string quartet cancelled at the last minute because their pantechnicon had run out of petrol, so we were entertained by the grand duke on the banjo and the grand duchess on the tequila slammers. Those were the days.

Perivale

Such happy memories!

Perivale on a Monday? How enlivening!

I have saved the Parson Russell’s signature move for just such an occurrence…

Golders Green. Yes, I know it’s inverted on the obverse, but Parson Russell’s dog-leg negates the need to pass through Leicester Square first.

<happy sigh>

Okay, I see people are bringing out the big guns.
In memory of another occasion with the grand duchess, sadly not featuring tequila slammers, but still entertaining (have you seen her doing the merengue?), I'm playing a Backwards Quarter en dehors to take us to Marylebone

Ah, LittleBitofBread. You’ve clearly heard the rumours about the grand duchess before she was the grand duchess. Apparently (so I was told by the contessa, who famously has her ear to the ground) she was a showgirl, with yellow feathers in her hair and her dress cut down to there. She would merengue and do the cha cha. But it’s only rumour, as I say, and I’m never one to gossip.

Euston Square

Indeed, Maud, music and passion were always the fashion, is what I heard.

Barbican, observing the contrapposto rule.

Quite, although poor dear Rico went too far and received a lifetime ban, having been rather too passionate about a downward fillip on the Bakerloo.

Arnos Grove

Dear Rico. Doing so well in Buenos Airies according to Madam. He needed a new start. So pleased for him.

South Ruislip, the reverse polo counter swing, in his honour.

Rico was quite the mover. Snake-hipped, one might say…

Great Portland Street (Hammersmith and city line) seems to be best option, from those available. It does necessitate a diversion on the branch line but that’s all to the good really.

Downward fillips can do that to a person. The understudy conductor in Harpenden narrowly avoided the same fate, one assumes purely because of his closeness, if you will, to some on the disciplinary board.

Let's go stochastic.
Morden

Stochastic? That reminds me that my dear great-nephew Alphonse is about to complete his PhD on the application of chaos theory to the game of games. The emeritus professor has provided many insights at high table.

Heron Quays

If it's the emeritus professor I'm thinking of, high table is often the scene of insights into… other things too. But I'm sure your great-nephew has a good head on his shoulders.

Wanstead, using the induction rule.

Yes, that’s the one, but Alphonse was in the Boys’ Brigade so knows what’s what.

Waterloo

I do like a troupe of young gents in nicely pressed uniform. They always look so smart. It reminds one of many sparkling evenings at Chelsea Barracks on the arm of the adjutant. And the Brigadier. And, on one memorable occasion, the General.

Sloane Square

Anyone who's had the arm of the General is lucky indeed!

Holborn works, I think, if I add in a varietal McDuff?

The General cuts a very fine figure indeed. Not many people could carry off spats and plus fours, but she certainly does.

Euston

I am glad of the interchange rule that takes me to Euston Square and then onwards via the Metropolitan and Jubilee lines to Queensbury. I don't recall anyone wearing spats at any of the tournaments I am aware of, though there was some strange attire at the first 1983 tournament.

Strange attire in 1983? I do hope you’re not referring to my off-the-shoulder sequinned diving suit and Cartier tiara. My personal stylist took a great deal of care over that outfit.

Hackney Downs

There have been many stranger outfits. I remember Carnoustie in 2013.

A four-corners to Neasden

Wot, wot, wot? Hrmph

Leicester Square

Zzzzzzzzzz

Carnoustie? Leicester Square? Pass me the smelling salts as I recover from the flashbacks and stagger unsteadily to

Plaistow

Have a little sit down Maud. It sounds like you need it. Can I offer you a fortifying tincture?

While you recover I shall bring some order to proceedings. I’ve not played this move since the days of the old GLC. How we romped down the corridors of City Hall…

Great Portland Street.

I can currently reclining, wanly, on the chaise longue while the Colonel peels me a grape and reads aloud from the hatches, matches and despatches column of the Times. A fortifying tincture would be most welcome, TragicMuse. Thank you.

Until then, I fear I can only muster enough strength for a lateral ffanshawe to

South Hampstead

if ever you see the retired attaché (you know the one I mean), Muse, ask her to tell you the story about City Hall involving the mop-and-bucket cupboard and the regional representative for meat and dairy.

Maud, I hope you feel revived. I offer a gentle Livingston to Upminster