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To Colchester Arts Centre! …on Sunday afternoon for what is fast becoming something of a regular showtime session. Treading the boards this weekend was the dear old thing Henry Blofeld, delivering a lecture, answering some questions and generally playing to the appreciative Colchester gallery in his role at chief cricket goon.

Splendid.

The most rock ‘n roll of riders was on display upon entering the lobby at St Mary’s at the Walls. Cases of bolly, lovingly bottled by the fine Colchester Wine Company, and produced with the Great Man in mind were on sale. Blowers’ 11 is looking like being a vintage year.

Seventy-two years of age and Henry Blofeld can still command the crease. The afternoon event attracted gentlemen of a certain age, not to mention a certain style. I was unsure at first if this was a cricketing afternoon or a convention for cravat lovers.

No one is claiming that Colchester is a cricket town – likewise I’m sure Chelmsford would be hard pressed to boast of the many cultural assets that Britain’s Oldest Recorded Town can rightfully celebrate. But for such a bat and ball barren town, the old aisles at the Arts Centre were full to capacity.

@AnnaJCowen and I treated the event like any other cricket match that we attend; a picnic hamper (of sorts) was produced. I advised the Girl that it was probably best to leave the old Ribena to red wine Test Match trick back at base.

As for the Dear Old Thing?

“Good afternoon, my dear old things”

…was the opening line spoken by Blowers as he greeted Colchester with the confidence of a chap that knows his tall tales are going to go down like Shane Warne being slogged for six at Lord’s.

“Colchester is a bugger to find a parking space”

…at least kept the conversation hyperlocal.

What followed was a batting and bowling session, with a drinks break served up in-between. First of all was the lecture from Blowers. Cricket was strangely absent for the majority of the boundary tales. The life of a chap growing up with a recognised privileged upbringing offered an insight into the other side of the Upstairs Downstairs equation.

But Blowers is no snob. Stories of mixing with the Queen Mother and fancy family foreign holidays seamlessly blended into the slog that he has had to endure, along with a considerable cricketing work ethic.

We heard all about the foreboding Mother Blofeld figure, aptly named Grizzle; a boyhood bicycling incident that cut short a promising cricket career, plus a well observed resemblance of the Media Centre at HQ with the wife of a former Prime Minister.

Wearing a pair of splendid scarlet red slacks to match the much loved red London busses that Blowers always eulogies about when working at The Oval, our host was a captivating figure, keeping the Colchester crowd alert with a lecture for well over an hour.

Following the drinks break, and it was time for the Q and A with the crowd. Essex Boy Alastair Cook was recognised as an “outstanding player,” and another line in great England captains that the County has produced. My question on matching fixing, fixture congestion and alcohol restrictions at Test match venues raised a smile from the old fella.

Come the close of play and Blowers encouraged the audience to remain at the Arts Centre and to share a few personal stories, as well as the odd glass of Blowers bolly. This is a man who hopefully has many summers remaining at the crease, with a mischievous insider take on the Establishment and a genuine love of the game.

Splendid, my Dear Old Thing.