It was a toss-up between a gentle row in the kayak or an afternoon of cricket on Sunday. I was pretty knackered after all my exertions the day before. At the end of the day, cricket always wins.
Wivenhoe Sunday 11 were playing a 40-over game against Gawd knows who. I arrived fashionably late, with Wivenhoe having already put 30 overs on the scoreboard.
My first obstacle involved locking up my bike. A bit of a lock situation developed. The lock I use for the electric is pretty robust. It’s also started to develop a tendency to jam. That’s not a good sign. There could be worse places than Wivenhoe Cricket Club to have to leave a locked-up bike.
It looked bloody hard work out in the middle for the Gawd Knows Who batsmen and the Wivenhoe pace bowlers. I found a king-sized bench close to the boundary to lounge upon. I did ponder going on the piss but thought it best to play safe. You never know what’s going to happen with that bike lock situation later in the afternoon.
It was good to find some silence and solitude for once in the day. I was within throwing distance of a cricket ball of the allotment. I think I had the better deal in lounging around watching the cricket rather than digging for victory.
The two umpires were doing a fine job. I did admire the satirical look of one of them, wearing a green t-shirt and a pair of baggy red shorts. It wasn’t quite the Dicky Bird cricketing etiquette look.
The poor Wivenhoe wicket keeper then had to undergo that strange bollocky dance after being hit in the unmentionables. Shit. I think I’ve just mentioned them.
A couple of looseners from the poor ginger kid went for consecutive sixes, one of them landing right in my cabbage patch over in the allotment.
I confess to dozing off for a few overs. When I awoke, Gawd Knows Who had racked up 229 after 40 overs on the scoreboard. This seemed like a tough chase. I cut my losses and cycled back to base.
