Friday, 16 November 2012

The sound of ...

Leather on willow ...

er no - its Junior, (No school today - Strike), and the lack of understanding why there are no cartoons, on the talking box, as dad is watching the cricket.


Above is a photo of the man with the most pointless job in the world. Cutting the grass, on a grass-less wicket on the driest piece of earth, in the driest state in India.

To my learned friend in Sifnos via Guildford, I can confirm, that the beaten out Fray Bentos tin, and coat hanger, with a milk bottle top LMB - the reception works fine - Unlike the commentary via the London studio, or a tower block flat with a dodgy sofa - So TMS via the web is the way to go ...

Lunch in Ahmedabad. India are 410-4 with Pujara 133* and Yuvraj 72

Swan will bowl all week on this flat track, Pietersen bowling too - yet Monty is in the dressing room twiddling his fingers, rather than weaving his magic with the ball. 

Here it is raining, lightly - Chance of rain to save England - Same as a white knight writing off the debts here in Greece. 

PS - Great quote from a teacher in one of the cities - '17 demonstrations planned in Greek cities on Saturday, bring your own Molotov' ...

Later: Swann has five, Monty Nil, Broad approaching a hundred without a wicket & India fast approaching 500 ...

Much later ...

Lets not talk about the cricket, and its tipping it down here on the rock. 

Tonight I cooked dinner (Roast chicken) and as usual there is a lot of washing up. Its turned cool so the mighty woodburner is in use this evening. A cheap glass of red warming by the furnace, and perhaps the last of my 'Seriously strong cheddar' will be consumed tonight (Disaster) ...

The street is well and truly perfumed with woodsmoke, on what looks like a rather damp evening.

What a night ...


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