(written a couple of weeks ago, just after I got home from Australia. I found it in my drafts folder and decided it deserved an airing).
As you may know, I like to play a bit of cricket. I also normally work too hard. So on the day when I got up at 3am because my body thought it was midday, it clearly made sense for me to go to cricket training in a corner of London which is not near where I live.
And it didn’t occur to me until we got to the club that it might rain on our training (that’s in England, in April). And then we couldn’t find a way into the club house because no one had a membership card. Finally got in, changed from work clothes, and walked through to the oval… Into drizzle.
As we went from short catches to longer range throwing, the heavens opened. We got soaked. We squealed, and laughed, and got even wetter. It did make learning to do sliding stops easier… Not sure I’m going to want to try those on a non-muddy day though! Eventually it was bad light that stopped play, not rain (even with daylight saving time, it’s still pretty dark by 7.45pm in early April).
I write this on the train, feet slowly drying outside my soaking drenched trainers, jumper drying on the seat next to me. The other passengers are kindly not staring at my t-shirt and bare feet in 10C at 9pm, and not muttering about the smell of wet dog emanating from my sodden jumper.