Imagine the Master and the Doctor locked in an eternal celestial combat where the playing field is the whole of space and time
Every year in mid-December, a decidedly old-school dining club meets at the Oval to celebrate Sir Jack Hobbs’s birthday. Established by John Arlott in 1953 – after a fine lunch with Sir Jack, Alf Gover and a couple of friends – it continued after the Surrey and England player’s death as a tribute to his legendary career.
Each year the Master’s Club invites a different speaker to give a toast to Hobbs, and in 2023 it was me. I’m not the only woman to have the honour but I was the first to notice that the club’s only rule – that members wear their club tie to the lunch – wasn’t entirely inclusive. This year we were given lapel pins.