Generally speaking, there are a few things which make me truly happy. The first is books – I love settling down to a good book of an afternoon and relaxing into another world. The next is film – nothing makes me squeal more than watching my favourite filmic heroes kick arse on screen. The next is travel – it’s as if the very acct of movement calms my soul.

There are others, of course – a beer of an evening; writing in the mornings, just after breakfast – but of these things none pleases me more than cricket. Watching that most noble and beautiful game is like nothing else on earth. Nothing can be more English as watching a game unfold over an afternoon.

Nor can there be anything better than watching such a game with my father. Now, I grant you my dad can be a cantankerous old pest at times, but he is my father and I know I can always depend on him. We went to a cricket match yesterday: a friend of his had told him about a cricket match being played in Chester between a welsh disabled cricket team and one from Cheshire, and had invited us along. So, we loaded the defiant into my van and, listening to radio 4 as we went, set off for Chester.

I had a great time! They were playing n a very well-kept pitch, by an old lane surrounded by fields. There was a pavilion, and the lack of a bar did not matter since, after the excesses of Friday night I gave up alcohol for a week as of Saturday morning. Most of the players were ambulant, being possessed of what I’d call ‘mild impediments, by and large. The standard was very good, and the 40-over match was shaping up to be a close game when we had to leave and return in time for tea. Nevertheless, I had a lot of fun, talking to people, making friends and working out average. It was, as the parlance goes, ‘all good’. I certainly hope to go to more such games with dad in the future.