May 19th (Mon)

As the sun shone yesterday, some play was possible at Lords. I have only one lesson today, and the thought occurs that a day at Lords mightn't be the worst thing to do. After a bit of cajoling, I persuade R, my perve friend from AOL, of the value of the idea, and so I make my excuses to J, the pupil, and head off on the train to London.
I used to get to the test match their at least once a year, but at £65 a throw it's only the last day giveaways (ha! £20) that I can afford.
I wait for R in the Edrich stand. Sophie rings. As I talk an ultra polite Somali steward points out that, regrettably, mobile phones are not permitted. He goes away, and R rings to ask where I am. another admonition. I spot him. He has brought two cups of tea. They are stone cold. We go to sit down in an empty area of the ground. Apparently we cannot. that is reserved for season ticket holders.He puts his bag on the steps. Our Somali friend is back. He is terribly sorry but R's bag is in the gangway and must be moved. Five minutes later he is back. The bag is still slightly in the gangway.
"Who is going to trip over it? The ground is empty"
"I am so sorry sir. We must prepare for worst case scenario"
This utter nonsense continues throughout the day. During the tea interval I put my radio to my ear to garner some statistics. He is there in a flash. Radios must be listened to with earphones only.
"Who can hear it?"
The neighbours are laughing by now. They cannot believe it.
"I am sorry sir, the rules are very strict"
Incredible.
It's a lovely day's cricket. For much of the day there is the prospect of a result, were there to be a clatter of wickerts, but when Oram strides to the crease, he puts things well beyond England's reach with a maginificent 100, the seconf 50 coming in no time at all.
I watch much of the game through my £11 Aldi binoculars. They are superb, and incredibly, there seem to be no rules against their use.
We chat about our perversions, and do so louder than I would have wished. I am sure the guy in the seat in front is craning his neck for the lurid details.
We head for the pub afterwards.It is packed to the brim, and a very nice looking pub. But all drink is served in plastic beakers at the request of the police. FFS.
A lovely Kiwi girl places her hand on my shoulder and laughs at one of my quips. Ah! physical female contact. It is the sexual highlight of my year!
Yes, home curry bed!!