Ropes, regulations...and rain

4pm - Get off my grass When me and my brother were growing up (our mother would dispute my use of the past tense if she reads this), a neighbour several doors away who owned a large garden used to roar "get off my grass" whenever we'd walk over it on our way to and from school. He was known henceforth as Mr Get Off Man by us, our parents, and all our other neighbours. And he must surely have been here today, disguised as a lady in her forties, who was screaming at everyone and anyone who dared step across the boundary rope. All this is perfectly understandable, I suppose, but it's nevertheless a ridiculous state of affairs that a young boy of six or seven can't step inside the rope by a foot, cheering his heart out, to stop the ball and throw it back to one of his West Indian heroes. Bah humbug.

Quote of the day (suitable for print) "My janitor has a better sweep than you," from a very thirsty member of the crowd to Niall O'Brien.

2.40pm It's nearly quarter to three and the rain has relented for the past two hours. It's even warm out there, but West Indies' bowlers haven't been happy with the run-ups, prompting the farcical sight of the groundsman using a leaf blower (surely one of the world's more pointless inventions) to dry the area where their front foot takes off from. All the while, the now beery crowd have been slow-clapping the farce - but shortly before yet another inspection, there was at least one little bit of excitement for the crowd. Phil Simmons, Ireland's West Indian coach, and a couple of his players started throwing a "whistling missile" to eachother, from one end of the ground to the other. It was captivating viewing, at least for your correspondent and, with each dropped catch, the crowd roared with mock delight.

But what a farce it's been. The crowd has swelled in excess of 1000 - I'll try to find out exactly how many later - and still the bowlers moan. Rumours (inevitably) circulating around the ground are that West Indies don't even want to play, a sentiment I refuse to believe. Sure enough, five minutes ago, the umpires finally received the all clear from the bowlers and play will begin at 3pm.

12.20pm Clontarf. as I've mentioned before, is a beautiful ground. But it really comes to life when the sun breaks free and the crowds fill up. 500 tickets were pre-sold for today's game between Ireland and West Indies, and another 1000 are expected - maybe more if the weather holds. White, plastic chairs are appearing from nowhere and breeding fast; with a privet-hedge-backdrop almost entirely around the ground, it looks quite a sight.

And what a mixture in the crowd. West Indians, South Africans - and (need you ask) a sizeable contingent of excitable Indians. Ever the opportunists, and armed with miniature digital cameras, they have descended on the players' tents for impromptu photos. Some of the players obliged, wearing Colgate-white smiles; others were less accommodating (and understandably so) but, all in all, the atmosphere is genial and happy. It's a real family day out and we're just praying the weather can hold to allow for a contest out in the middle. It's no less than Clontarf and its army of volunteers deserve. And, as I write, up go the umbrellas and down comes the rain. And it's teeming. Well, it was short and sweet.