Leeds, July 11th 1930
Walked off the field at Headingley unbeaten on 309. Asked team-mates if they had enjoyed my innings. Apparently, there was a risk of sunstroke on the balcony so they all had to sit in the back room with the curtains drawn and not watch me bat at all. They were very sad to miss my knock, they said. Peculiar: it felt very overcast in the middle? Leeds has very localised weather, they explained.
Back at the hotel, they asked me to come to the bar for a drink – it being tradition for a century-maker to buy a round for the team. I acted quickly, as quickly as I do when using my feet to a spinner: I said I had lost my wallet. They did not believe me. I said I would go and get it from my room, then. Fled through kitchens. Hid in a dumb waiter until bar closed and they had all gone to bed.
Spent remainder of the evening in my room alone. Managed to fashion a primitive ball out of a couple of pairs of tightly rolled-up socks, which I then hardened by dipping in hair pomade and drying on the radiator. Practised bouncing this off the corner of bathroom sink and playing it with toothbrush for five hours. Scored an unbeaten 965.
Awoke in middle of the night troubled by unfinished practice at Sockit. Got up approx four o’clock and played until toothbrush broke. Sat quietly in dark until breakfast, thinking about how to convert Headingley 309* into significant score.
July 14th
Still utterly disheartened about throwing wicket away on 334, although some good news on the sunstroke front at least. When I was dismissed, the fellows gathered on the balcony to clap and cheer. I noticed some champagne being opened. I asked about the sunstroke risk but apparently it had got cloudier that very minute. Thank goodness! Funny thing is, I don’t drink champagne, and I told them as much. “We know,” they said.
July 15th
Tomorrow we journey from Leeds to Durham for a tour match. My employers (Pongo Patterson & Sons Sporting Goods, Sydney) are laying on a small aircraft for me; my team-mates are going via omnibus (roof of). I wondered if they minded me travelling separately. “oh no,” they said. “We’re just sorry to miss out on you talking us through every single ball of your innings again.” Retire to room early to practice exercising my eyelid muscles for maximising light intake during murky conditions in North East. Do 2,000 shuttle runs in bathtub. Bed.