Who Are Ya

Saw my first ever Twenty20 game last night. I have played in many over the years, but I suppose that various rounds of The Oaksey Bowl or local evening league never had the same attraction as seeing Muralitharan and Pieterson ply their trade at Gloucester. Surrey were beaten by a tight Gloucestershire outfit with both sides beating the rain that threatened all evening.

Apart from those two big names, there were other players that were worthy of watching - if only I had known that from the start. It was only after, that I had realised that we had been watching - as per the Dad's Army closing caption - the fastest world cup century scorer, the most recent call up to the England test squad, the England Ashes back-up wicket keeper, two other former England players and an Aussie international. Perhaps next time I should do some match preparation.

I recognised the umpire Peter Willey. No sign of Michael Holding though . . .

DIY SOS

There is only one thing I hate more than decorating - and that is paying someone else to do it. So it was with some trepidation that I took the opportunity of a son's school trip to Barcelona, to rid his walls of painted trains and overpaint with teenage greys and turquoises.

It turned out to be a memorable event - not for the reasonably tidy outcome and not for the 13 hours spent painting on the Sunday alone. It was the fact that I had to wear glasses throughout for first time. So it is official - I am turning into my late father. Appropriate, really, as the Sunday would have been his birthday. Somewhere in the loft I still have his paint speckled glasses.

We also have in common, the fact that we shut ourselves away in the room with only sounds for company using the latest technology. For me, it was itunes on shuffle on the laptop. For my father, I recall, it was a stack of birdsong LP's, probably on self loading, using a Morphy Richards mono record player.

I expect mother was listening to the Music with Pleasure boxset downstairs.