Eminently forgettable cricket on a drizzly day is washed down by bottles cheap claret and fat lunch. Grill included Pork with crackling, chicken, cumberlands, breaded potato squares, salad, bread rolls and soup. The pudding is a bit weak though; stodgy supermarket cake.
Didn’t bat well. I blamed the lunch. It was too good not too stuff your face with. Batting on a full stomach does little for your concentration. Woodhouse wrote “volumes might be written on the cricket lunch and the influence it has on the run of a game; how it undoes one man to and sends another back to the fray like a giant refreshed; how it turns the brilliant fast bowler into the sluggish medium and the nervous bat into the masterful smitter”.
Grey, weak rain spots all day. You know, the type runs that down the back of your ear or creeps in between your collar and slithers down your neck. We batted first and got a decent score. It started to rain harder when Sutton went out to bat. We wanted to call it quits. They were determined to have there bat after fielding in drizzle. Dear god, please let it rain very, very hard so we can all go home. My prayers were answered.