My thesis having reached a semi-finished yet awkward state, I decided yesterday afternoon to go over to the front field to watch some cricket. Every Wednesday in the summer term they hold a match there, and yesterday MMU played Bolton. The sun was shining, the grass green. There is nothing finer.

It was a 90 over match, 45 each way; I hadn’t spent time watching a cricket match since Sydney, so I was eager to take it seriously and follow the game from start to finish. In the event, I did pop home to check emails once or twice, so I missed the odd ball, and at 5 I needed to meet jen for tea, but I didn’t do too badly. Cricket is the type of sport where you can do that, anyway, and I love it for it.

MMU batted first. We got about 270 for 6 off 45 overs. someone whose name escapes me topscored at 97. I always feel sorry in such cases.

Then we semi-skittled them, beating them 105 runs, or thereabouts. For a giant bear, bungle is pretty handy with the ball. For my part, I was just having fun, sitting in the shade of the hedges at the far side of the road. It was my father who instilled in me an intense love of this rather odd game, and yesterday brought back memories of Sydney Melbourne and Old Trafford. At one stage I even fancied I smelled Australia, but that could have simply been the coconut suntan lotion. Watching this sport being played puts me at ease with the world; it brings back happy memories; sitting there, yesterday afternoon, everything seemed right.