Cricket; a very English game. There really is something heartwarmingly nostalgic about the sound of leather on willow accompanied by frenzied shouts of "How-zat?"
I haven't been to many cricket matches, but two which I remember are in stark contrast with each other.
There was the one from my childhood, on the cricket ground at Parwich, a small Peak District village. I don't remember much about the match itself, but I do remember my uncle's comment that Parwich cricket ground must be one of the few in the country where the ball could be lost inside the boundary (a reference to the length of the grass on the outfield!).
The other was a test match at Old Trafford - England v Australia, 1989. Steve Waugh came out to bat. This Ashes series was where he first began to show the depth of his talent. Via the telly, I'd already watched him scoring a masterful 177 not out at Headingly and I very much wanted to see him in action. I know I should have been rooting for England, but I just enjoyed watching the performance. Needless to say, Australia won. (By nine wickets! Not even the Manchester rain could save us).
It isn't unusual, walking or driving past parks or sports fields on a summer Sunday, to see men in 'whites' standing around a closely mown strip of grass.
Here is another one from my latest trip to Yorkshire...