This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive to you, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author. My thanks to John who has read this through for any details that me need explanation for transatlantic, or non UK readers, and made several corrections. Any remaining errors, grammatical, spelling historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
If you wish to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.
This story is dedicated to Ron, who lives in an English village, and whose chance remark while we were chatting gave me the idea for this tale. The story bears absolutely no resemblance to his relationship with J. Neither Ron or J identify in any way with either of the two main characters.
Resume:- Malcolm and Simon are two gay men in their 60s who live in a homophobic English village. They have met, but they carefully conceal their sexual orientation from each other. Both have been thinking over their own personal sexual stories
A TALE OF TWO ENGLISHMEN. PART THREE
Simon continued to think over the question as to why he had got married.
It was the second Sunday after Easter when Father Simon, the rather elderly parish priest of Our Lady's, in that North London suburb, introduced Father Michael as his new assistant priest. The young man who stepped forward was short, just over five feet in height. He was slim, with dark wavy hair. When he spoke, it was with a soft southern Irish accent. He was one of the many of the young priests who were not needed in those days in Ireland, and came over to England or Scotland for most of the years of their ministry.
Simon looked at him, little realising the significant role he would take in his own story. Chris also looked at him and nudged Simon, who was sitting next to him. "He does look young."
"Fresh out of college I would think. Doesn't look much older than us."
Father Michael was not much older. He had been brought up in County Cork, gone to Maynooth, and was now a newly ordained priest. He was full of the zeal and freshness of the newly ordained.
At the end of the service they went to the door of the church and stood in the line to shake hands with Father Simon and his new assistant.
"Are you members of the Youth Club?" asked Father Michael keenly.
"Yes," they both replied in unison.
"I look forward to meeting you properly on Wednesday evening, then."
When they had passed out onto the pavement Simon spoke first, "I wonder what he's really like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Will he be all full of doctrine, and 'do nots'; or will he be human, and understanding of the likes of us."
"Are you going to find out by confessing what we get up to?"
"No way. I am not that much of a fool. By the way, the other day, I heard my Dad talking to Mum. They were discussing whether is was a mortal sin not to confess the use of birth control, when they went to confession."
"They said that in front of you?"
"No. They didn't know I was in the next room, and the door was open," said Simon.
"Perhaps we can find out by asking Father Michael if the failure to confess a sin like that is mortal or venial."
"He would probably blush with embarrassment."
"You'd go as red as a beetroot, just asking him," said Chris, barging into Simon with his shoulder.
They laughed and continued on their way.
Father Michael's youth and enthusiasm were infectious, and both Simon and Chris became even more committed members of the Church Youth Club.
That Summer Term was for both boys a blissful time. They enjoyed their relationship to the full. As they were both in the Lower Sixth they had no public exams. Though they worked hard there was not the exam pressure of the year before, or the pressure that they knew would bear down on them the next year. And of course, there was cricket. The previous season they had played regularly for the second eleven. This year they both played several times for the first team, though not often at the same time. Simon's spin bowling brought him a good crop of wickets, especially if he was bowling on a damp or dusty wicket. He was also a good close fielder, often fielding as second slip, silly mid on, or silly mid off. Chris was a something of an all rounder. His batting improved and he moved up the order. He usually fielded in the covers. Cricket was an important item in the boy's conversation. [See footnote for further details about cricket]
When the summer holidays came they decided that they would go off together on a camping holiday. They decided that they would try to walk from Bradford to Durham. Neither of them had been to Yorkshire or County Durham before. The weather was kind to them, on the whole. They usually rose fairly soon after sunrise, and packed up their gear and walked through the morning. They aimed to have lunch in some secluded spot, where they could strip off, sunbathe, and enjoy each other. Then about four o'clock, they would walk for another hour, before finding somewhere to pitch their tent for the night. In the mid 1950s there were not the rules and regulations over where you could camp that afflicted the many more campers of later years. Most farmers would allow them to camp in a field. In some of the more open moorland stretches of their path they camped beside a stream, undisturbed by any human being. There they felt free to wander around naked, unless it was too cold.
One afternoon they were stretched out of a grassy bank of a stream, their bodies now quite brown from the hot sun. Already there was no whiter equatorial region on their bodies. Both were dozing after their usual round of sexual activity. Chris was lying, with his head on Simon's chest, while one hand played casually with Simon's limp cock. Simon's hand idly played with one of Chris's nipples.
"I've been thinking," said Chris.
"That's a dangerous occupation on a sunny afternoon! What have you been thinking about?"
"About Father Michael."
"What about him?"
"I was just wondering if he is like us."
"In what way?"
"You know. Liking sex with men."
"You're not serious are you. He's a priest." expostulated Simon.
"I know, but behind the dog collar is a human being and a man. I shouldn't think sexual urges are driven out by the bishop's hands as a part of ordination."
"But he has to be celibate, and chaste."
"I'm not suggesting he goes round screwing men, or even screws just one man.
I just think he might like to. Might be wishing he could."
"When you come to think of it, all those young men at Maynooth, locked up for their most sexy years. No women. Some of them must have sought relief with another ."
"But have you any evidence for what you are saying?" asked Simon.
Chris got up and sat so that he could look at Simon properly. "Have you ever tried to flirt with him?"
"No, I've not," said Simon firmly. "What an idea! Have you then?"
"Yes, sort of."
"How? When?" asked Simon.
"Just two or three times. At Youth club. I've looked him in the eye, smiled, raised an eyebrow or something. Almost like we flirt when we are saying to each other we want to have some sex together, though not quite so blatantly."
"You're a bold hussy," said Simon.
That remark provoked Chris, and for a while the conversation broke off for some wrestling. This was not serious and soon calmed down into the resumption of the enjoyment of bodily contact. It ended with a bout of kissing.
"What happened? What did he do?" asked Simon.
"He grinned, and went bright red."
"Do you think he knew what was happening?"
"Pretty sure of it."
There was a short pause in the conversation.
"I must try it when we get back." said Simon.
"Would you like him to respond?" asked Chris.
Simon thought for a moment. "He is attractive, now I come to think of it. Good figure. Tight arse. Fancy, sticking your cock up a priest's bum!"
They both convulsed in laughter.
"Perhaps we should ask him to come camping with us next year." said Chris.
"Threesomes every day. We could take turns as to who could sleep in the middle."
"In the nude?"
"An essential requirement."
"But we'd have to say all the offices with him. That'd take an age."
From then on the sexual orientation of Father Michael became a recurring subject of their conversation.
The next school year was different. The work began to pile on. Both boys found they could not spare time from their home work to go to the Church Youth Club. They talked it over with Father Michael. As they were not the only ones busy with school work, Father Michael suggested that they all came round to the presbytery rooms on a Sunday evening for coffee and discussion.
Father Michael's rooms were in the Presbytery, where the Roman Catholic clergy lived. It was a large rambling Victorian house. In previous days there was often the parish priest and four or five assistants. In the mid '50s it was usually just Father Simon, and one, or at the most two assistants. They were looked after by Father Simon's aged female housekeeper. Father Simon had been priest of that parish for more years than most of his parishioners could remember. He was now in his late seventies. He would have liked to have given up, but the Bishop said he was indispensable. Father Michael's rooms consisted of a bedroom, and a large room that combined as a study and sitting room.
The number of youngsters who met with Father Michael varied between ten and half a dozen. They usually began with coffee, and then discussed some subject for an hour. Then they drifted home.
Simon soon tried flirting with Father Michael. It was exactly as Chris had said. He grinned back, and blushed slightly. But there was a consequence to this. Father Michael seemed to watch both Simon and Chris very carefully.
"He thinks we're up to something," said Simon.
"In what way?"
" I think he is wondering if we are having sex together."
"I wonder if he'll say anything."
"I doubt it. He'd be too embarrassed. He'd go a real beetroot colour."
Christmas and the New Year came round. Nigel announced that he was having another party. Both Simon and Chris were invited. They discussed it carefully before hand. They would go. They would join in the games. They would grope, kiss and fondle. But they would not suck or fuck any other guy who was there. As soon as the games were over they would seek each other out, and spend the whole night just enjoying each other.
This they did. They joined in the games whole heartedly. Making it very obvious they were enjoying the fun. But when it came to the free for all, for them it was free only to each other.
The winter term saw the work load steadily increase. They were lucky if they were able to have a sexual time together just once a week. Often it was a quick grope and mutual toss off in some dark corner on their way home from the Presbytery on a Sunday night.
Chris parents insisted that he came away with them for the Easter weekend to France. By protesting, and then asking if Simon could come as well, he got what he really wanted.
"You'll have to sleep with him, his mother said. "You know that there are not enough beds for an extra one really."
"I suppose I can put up with that. I hope he doesn't snore or kick," said Chris.
"Well that's your look out. You want him to come."
Chris could hardly contain his jubilation. At school the next day he rushed to tell Simon what had been planned. Simon's parents were happy, because they knew that Chris and his family would be going to Church for their Easter Mass.
Needless to say they both enjoyed the trip to France. It provided a break from work, and the delight of sleeping together. The only draw back was they could not make any noise, as there were the others in the house. Unlike when on their camping trip when they could express their sexual pleasure as loudly as they liked.
Then it was back to work. The first part of the summer term fled past, the exams were taken, followed by almost no school work. They could devote their attention fully to cricket. In the long light evenings when they were not playing cricket they went out walking, or cycling together. They had discovered a number of places where they could reckon on being unseen and uninterrupted on a summer evening. They made the most of it. The strain of the exams faded from their faces.
After the end of the school term they both got jobs to earn some money. Then they went away for another holiday together. This year they went to the Welsh border. But this year the weather was not so kind, but often when it was wet a friendly farmer readily gave them permission to sleep in one of his barns, on strict condition they did not smoke or attempt to cook in the barn. There were a number of times when the farmer's wife allowed them to cook in her kitchen. There an eye could be kept on them.
There was a sense of coming change about their relationship. Their exam results were sufficiently good for them both hoped to go to University. Simon had a place at Nottingham, where he was to read maths and economics. Chris had a place at Birmingham, where he intended to read history. They planned to meet during the term, but they knew it would not be on the daily basis of the last few months.
Two evenings before Chris was to go up to Birmingham for the Freshers Conference, Father Michael invited the two of them round for a meal and evening at the presbytery. It was really so that he could talk to them about the hazards and dangers of University life. The housekeeper had prepared the meal which they ate with Father Simon. The lads were rather in awe of him, as to them he had always been a rather remote and austere figure. They had both made their first, and many subsequent, confessions to him. To their amazement he regaled them with some highly amusing and slightly risqué stories of his student days in Dublin.
When the meal was over they adjourned to the sitting room where they had coffee. Then Father Simon wished them well, and disappeared to his own room. They started talking about University life.
They talked about the subjects they would be reading. He gave them both some useful advice about studying at University level. They discussed social life, and of getting good balance between the social and the study side of University life. His conversion was full of anecdotes from his own experience. He warned them of the dangers of drink, and of getting in with the 'fast set'. Drugs were unknown on the university scene in those days. He also warned them of the dangers of girls, "But I don't think that'll be a problem for either of you two."
Chris and Simon stole a furtive glance at each other, both thinking that Father Michael probably had a good idea of what had been going on between them. Father Michael observed the exchange of looks and a slight smile appeared on his face.
The pep talk over, Father Michael gave them a glass of well watered Irish whiskey.
"To your University days," he said, as he raised his glass.
As they made their way home, they discussed the significance of Father Michael's enigmatic smile when he had said that they would not be led astray by the fair sex. They were more than ever convinced, not only that he guessed, but that he was of the same way as themselves.
They had planned what they were going to do with the rest of the evening. They made their way back to Simon's house. They went across the back of Nigel's garden, through the hole in the hedge and to the shed. Though it was summer no one was likely to disturb them at that late hour. Simon had prepared the place earlier in the day, making some space, and putting some covering down on the bare wooden boards.
Once inside they put their arms round each other and kissed.
"I'm going to miss you," said Chris.
"Me too. This'll be the last time for a while. I hope you don't get carried away by some attractive guy at Birmingham."
"Nor you at Nottingham. I'm told the prettiest girls come from Nottingham, so perhaps the boys are ugly."
"Do you realise we've seen each other almost every day since the first of old Nigel's parties."
"I think we could count the days when we've not seen each other on the fingers of one hand."
"I wonder how many times I've tossed you off."
"Or I've sucked you off."
"Or we've fucked," they said together.
"I know it's not been enough. I've always been wanting more."
They began to undress each other. They took it slowly, drawing out this last time as much as possible. The removal of each garment was interrupted by kisses, and gentle touches. Once completely naked they lay down on a scrap of carpet that Simon had placed there earlier. They embraced, their risen cocks thrusting together.
The feel of Chris cock against him aroused a desire to be penetrated in Simon. He turned and thrust his bum at Chris's cock.
"I want you, Chris my love. I want you deep inside. I want your love juice to pour into me. I only wish I could keep it there until we next meet."
"You shall have it. To the last drop that I can give you." Chris kissed the back of Simon's neck.
Simon reached out and then handed a small jar of Vaseline to Chris.
Gently Chris prepared them both. Even with the application of Chris's Vaseline covered fingers Simon began to moan with pleasure. Then he felt the hot head of Chris's cock begin to make its way towards his entrance. They had done this so many times that penetration was easy. They lay there, each enjoying the other. One of Chris's arms was under Simon's head, and the other softly scratched at one of Simon's nipples. Because Simon had his back to Chris, he could do little with his hands except feel Chris's hands.
"It is strange how sensuous hands become when making love," said Simon.
"Si, I just love every part of your body, from the topmost hair, down to the last toenail. I am going to miss every atom of it."
"I'll miss the times like this. But I'll also miss talking, arguing and everything else with you."
Gradually they both began to move. They were now so experienced in the love making, so attuned to each other, that they both worked to delay the climax for as long as possible. Long though the preliminaries were, the climax eventually came. It was a climax for them both. Simon felt Chris's cock grow even harder and bigger, and then throb as the hot love juice pulsed out into him. Simon came at the same time, and his spunk shot out onto the wooden floor of the shed.
When Chris's cock grew limp and slipped out, Simon turned to face Chris.
"That was wonderful. Perhaps the best ever. When we next meet I will repay you. Whether you will be able to take all the load I'll have saved up is another matter."
"Now don't tell me you're not even going to toss yourself off, Si. I can't believe that."
"It'll be you I shall think of every time I do," said Simon
"Same here. And it'll be a very poor substitute."
"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"We'll see," said Chris.
They continued in each other's arms. The conversation became patchy, with long silences between. Both knew that their school days were now finally over. In the next few days they would have left home for the first time, and become undergraduates. They both realised that though the relationship would continue it would never be quite the same again. Neither wanted to break this last time together.
Eventually they heard a distant church clock strike one. In silence they both moved, and got dressed. They kissed each other before leaving the shed. They made their way back through the hole in the hedge, across the bottom of Nigel's garden. When they reached the road, in the darkness of the night they held hands until they reached the place where they must part.
They kissed again, and made their separate ways home.
It was seven weeks before they met again. They corresponded regularly, a letter a week each way. It was arranged for Chris to come to Nottingham for a weekend. Simon was living in a small rented house in the Meadows with a couple of other students. In those days nothing was thought of two men sharing a room. It would be expected that either the host would make the sacrifice and give up his bed to the guest, while he slept in a sleeping bag, or made up bed, on the floor. But no one would wonder as to the exact sleeping arrangements within the privacy of a room. Far more comment and curiosity would be aroused if the host was male, and the guest female. Though such sleeping arrangements in the Halls of Residence were strongly disapproved of, and were liable to disciplinary procedures it found out, there was not the same legalistic attitude away from the University Campus. In the event they almost had the house completely to themselves. One of the men sharing the house with Simon was away for the whole weekend, and the other spent as much time with his girl friend as possible, including most of Friday night, and all of Saturday night.
It was a damp and cold November evening when Simon met Chris at the Midland Station. They gave each other a very quick furtive hug. They were able to walk the short distance to the house where Simon lived. They were no sooner inside the front door and they were in each others arms.
"I don't know how I kept my hands to myself as were walking along," said Simon.
"I know I've been counting the days, and then the hours. Where's your room?"
Simon led the way up to a room at the back of the house. It was small but cosy. There was a single bed, a desk, and couple of chairs, and not much else.
Simon lit the gas fire with a match. It ignited with its usual pop and flash. As he stood up, Chris grabbed him, and they hugged and kissed. Each could feel the others hardness. There was no shyness between them. Hands felt, hands undid buttons, they undressed, and because the room had not yet warmed they were soon between the sheets. For a couple of hours they enjoyed each other.
"It's your turn to give me your love juice. Remember your promise last time," said Chris.
Simon got out some Vaseline. "I remember, but I fear, I shall unload before I get in."
"You dare. I don't want any premature ejaculations from you, my friend. No going off half cock."
Simon took it slowly. As his cock touched, Chris moaned with anticipation, and he began to push back. Slowly his cock slid into Chris. Once he could go no further, and he felt his stomach and balls against Chris's buttocks, he stopped, and they both rested.
"That feels good," said Chris. "I realise what I've been missing."
"My cock's now back home, where it belongs," said Simon.
It was nearly ten o'clock when the other basic need of the young male began to make itself felt. They were both ravenously hungry. Simon slipped out for some fish and chips. Once these were eaten they were soon back in bed.
That weekend they made love a lot, and they talked and argued, as usual. They went out for a couple of meals. Simon showed Chris something of the University and a little of the city.
They talked about their experiences of University life. Chris had got very involved with the University Catholic Society, always abbreviated to CathSoc. He had become more serious about his faith, going more frequently to confession and mass. He was very impressed with the Catholic chaplain, and several times reported what he had said, and what he thought of certain things. Simon had joined CathSoc at Nottingham, but was nowhere nearly as involved as Chris. He had become involved with the Chess Club, and was hoping to get into one of the University teams. Both of them were looking forward to the cricket season.
Eventually the weekend drew to a close. They spent most of the Sunday afternoon in bed drawing their love making out to the full. They knew that their next time together would be the Christmas Vac. with all the difficulties of home life.
"I wonder if Nigel will have another party?" said Chris.
"I expect so. It will be two years that we have been together."
The Christmas Vac was a difficult time for them both in their relationship together. There was the usual hectic round of family and church life. The weather was cold, damp and thoroughly miserable. There were few opportunities of being safely alone together. Both felt acutely frustrated.
The one redeeming feature was that Nigel held another of his parties. This was bigger than the previous ones, as there were three of Nigel's fellow student's there. Nigel had gone to Reading University. Simon and Chris managed to have some uninterrupted time together in the same back bedroom as the previous year.
They met together for a weekend in the middle of the Winter term. This time Simon went down to Birmingham. It was almost an action replay of the weekend in Nottingham. One difference was that the house where Chris lived was much larger than the house in Nottingham, and there were more of Chris's fellow student around. Not that this made much difference to them.
Neither of them was 'out' in any sense of the word. Sir John Wolfenden's Report into Prostitution and Homosexuality had only just been published, and the campaign to legalise homosexual acts between consenting adults in private had yet to get off the ground. What they both did was illegal, and if caught and things had gone wrong, they both could have ended up in prison. The upside was that they could get away with things if they were careful, because very few people suspected that a friendship between two men could be a sexual one.
Chris took Simon along to a meeting of CathSoc. There he met the chaplain who had impressed Chris. Simon talked with him for several minutes. It was only when he was going back to Nottingham on the train that he started thinking about the man. He realised the startling thing about him was his eyes. The eyes that had looked at Simon were the eyes of a fanatic. He then thought about the way that Father Michael looked at people, and realised that he looked at people with the eyes of love.
The Easter Vac begin with several days of warm sunny weather. Simon and Chris met round at Chris's house, and they talked for a couple of hours, before Simon had to make his way home for a meal. It was the third day of the vac that they were able to get really alone together. Chris's folk were all out for the evening, and as they had gone up to the theatre in the West End, they would not be back until late. As soon as they were able they retired to Chris's bedroom. There was almost a routine on these occasions. Quick undress and then straight into bed. A long affectionate cuddle, with some talk, slowly getting more intimate until their love making became serious. What exactly they did together differed each time. It all depended on their individual needs and desires. They were usually very well attuned to each other. It was about half way through their love making that Simon first sensed that they were not progressing quite as usual. Chris seemed slightly distracted. He was neither as attentive or responsive as he usually was when they were together.
That evening they climaxed with Simon giving Chris's cock the oral attentions that they both enjoyed. They lay back with an arms round each other.
"Is there something wrong, Chris?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You don't seem to be with it, this evening. Are you feeling all right?"
"Well there is something, I need to tell you."
"What? Have you fallen for some other guy in Birmingham?" asked Simon.
"No it's not that."
"What is it? Surely you can tell me. Is it your work?"
"No. But there is something I need to tell you. The trouble is I don't know how to start," said Chris.
"Now you have got me worried," said Simon, raising himself on to his elbow so he could look down into Chris's face.
"You met Father Ignatius, didn't you, when you came to Birmingham for the weekend."
"Yes," said Simon warily.
"His made me take my faith much more seriously than before."
"I gathered that when I stayed with you in Birmingham. Does he want you to become a monk or a priest or something?"
"No. Though he has suggested both those things."
"What is it then?"
"He has made me see that what we've been doing together over these last eighteen months or so, is wrong. Very wrong. It is a misuse of the bodies that God has given to us. This must be the last time, Simon. We mustn't do it anymore." This all came out in a rush.
"You serious?" said Simon.
"Yes. Really serious. It is wrong. Sinful."
"You are serious, aren't you?" said Simon with a note of shock and horror in his voice.
Chris nodded.
"But what about that time in Epping Forest when we expressed our love for each other, and then, sort of consummated it, under that hornbeam tree."
"I know. And I still love you, Si. I still love you. But no more can our love be expressed in this way." He reached down and held Simon's cock for a moment. It was to be the last time. That part of Simon that he knew and loved so much, was never to be touched by him again.
"But our love making has been so important to us both. Or at least, I thought so," said Simon.
"It has been vitally important for me. Yes, I have enjoyed it. I have enjoyed every moment and every expression of our love. But it is wrong. It must never happen again. Our mortal souls are more important than even this expression of what we feel for each other."
Simon fell back on to the bed, and was silent. He felt devastated.
It was now Chris's turn to look down on Simon. "You're the last person on God's earth I would have wanted to hurt, Si. I am sorry. But I have to be true to my faith."
"Does that mean that you regret every time we have made love. Every expression of what we feel for each other. Every kiss, every suck, every fuck, every touch even?"
"I have talked about this to Father Ignatius. In one way I don't regret what we have done together. It was an expression of love. I suppose there was some slight sense that what we did was wrong. But I suppose I don't really regret what has happened. But now I see things differently. I now know more what it really means to be a good Catholic. It would be real serious sin to continue."
"Yet you have done it tonight," interjected Simon angrily. "Knowing it was wrong. Isn't that real serious sin."
"In a way it is. I felt I owed you one last time, Si. My feeling for you hasn't changed. I could never have wished for a better friend. And I hope that we can remain good friends. Though I know that'll be hard, especially for you."
I don't know," said Simon. "I feel hurt. I feel angry. I can't see how we can just cool our relationship, so that it just becomes a non sexual friendship, when it has been from the start and intensely sexual relationship. I don't know about you, but I am a very sexual being. Sex is important to me. Sex with you has become an important almost essential part of my life. I find it difficult to think of just existing without your kisses, and your cock. I'll have nowhere to express my urges."
"Perhaps you will in time. There may be a nice girl all waiting for you."
"A girl! I don't want a girl. I want you," shouted Simon.
"We'll see. Time will tell," said Chris. He got off the bed and started to dress.
Simon slowly followed suit.
They dressed in silence, and went down stairs.
"I must go," said Simon.
"Simon, I want you to know and always remember that I value your friendship almost more than anything else in the whole world."
"Except your faith, and that bloody Father Ignatius."
"Simon!"
"Sorry! I shouldn't have said that. Chris, I love you, but I am hurting all over, and I am angry, and I'm not sure whether it is with you, or the Church, or Father Ignatius. Goodbye." He opened the door and walked out into the cold damp night.
Footnote:-
Cricket. This is obviously not the place to go into the rules and intricacies of cricket. It is a game dating back well over 200 years. It is a game played between two sides of 11 players. At any stage in the game one side is batting [their innings] and the other fielding. Bowlers rely on a mixture of speed and spin. Spin can cause a ball to swerve in the air, or to turn or break on bouncing. Balls can be made to swerve or break from left to right, or right to left, depending on different actions from the bowler. The names of the fielding positions are either descriptive or the meaning is lost in antiquity. 'Silly' always denotes a fielding position very close in front the batsman. The fielder needs to have very quick reactions to catch, or stop the ball, or to get out of the way. It is a position taken up to intimidate the batsman, but has an element of danger to it, hence the name. Slip fielders are close in behind the batsman, and are awaiting a snick of the ball on the bat. Club cricket is a one day affair. Often lasting from about 11.00am to sometime in the early evening. Each side would have one innings. Matches between the English counties in those days lasted three days, now four. Both sides can have two innings. Test Matches between countries, between countries of the Commonwealth, [though not Canada] take up to five days, and are two innings a side matches. It is a game that produced a mass of statistics, and records for all sorts of things are frequently broken. If there are any questions I will attempt to answer them.
Jeffyrks@hotmail.com