One of the unchanging aspects of Trent Bridge, that many have remarked on before and I was remarking on the other day, is its friendliness. The Oval, for instance, is many things but not, I think, friendly. The pavilion there is guarded by bouncers in dicky bows : the distinguished but cosy pavilion at Trent Bridge has a chap who looks as though he might have been on nickname terms with Harold Larwood lolling in a deckchair.
This friendliness extends to the signage, new since I was last there. Signs at cricket grounds (like gatemen) tend variously to the bossy, the eccentric (Wantage Road), the authoritative (Lord’s), the misleading. Trent Bridge has, of course, its fair share of the much-hated centrally-imposed no smoking signs, but for its own signage it has opted for a sort of early London Underground effect, employing something very like Gill Sans Serif and the liberal use of pointing fingers.
And I rather like the welcoming tone – “A day at the cricket” – they seem to say – “how marvellous. Make yourselves at home”. See what you think –
“My wife doesn’t understand me? My sciatica’s playing me up again?”
And best of all …
Now, isn’t that better?
(Though perhaps this one is a little reminiscent of Patience Strong ) –