The good old days

Look around county grounds and you’re likely to see middle-aged, old and wary spectators who are thoroughly immersed in the cricket. They enjoy a drink or five, talk about the “good old days” and inject a quaint charm in what has largely become a young man’s sport. It’s great to see these supporters (fans is just too crude a word for such sophistication) enjoy a day at the cricket, reading, chatting, watching, gently clapping. No hooting, no jeering and no mobbing of players. It a fine contrast – the younger lot chanting slogans and waving flags, the older generation quietly enjoying their cricket.

The setting adds to the charm – green hills, church spires, tree-lined boundaries – and produced a most soothing experience. “It’s a sedate, casual and contemplative experience,” wrote Mike Marqusee, the American historian settled in England. “The players acquire a human dimension absent from the gladiatorial international arenas. The weather, as always in England, sets the tone, and dictates the style — from blankets and flasks of hot tea to sun-hats and chilled lagers. And is there another sporting event regularly graced by second-hand bookstalls?”

**

The newspaper that’s circulated in the Underground is great to lifts spirits. You’re on your way to work, probably expecting a hard day, and you read about a man who spends 250 pounds to buy a new iphone and immediately places it in his blender to ask the question that he always does: “Will it blend”. At the end of his experiment he loudly proclaims the result: “Yes it will”. It’s apparently an iPhone torture test. I can’t wait to read more such inspiring tales in tomorrow’s edition.