ASHES MORNINGS (3)

It's been a rough old week.

It started badly, with me having to finally deal with some car issues, and the Ashes Tour turning into a predictable farce in so far as the touring side were concerned anyway, leaving them two down with three to play and about to begin the Third Test at the Waca in Perth where (it was rumoured) Australia have won the last six of their encounters.

Meanwhile, my own life seemed to descend into the kind of manic lunacy which always ends up getting me into trouble and I had a grumpy old time of it punctuated by inappropriately hysterical moments of the sort which imply that I really was better company when I worked in isolation even thought I know it actually made me a very strange cove indeed for a few too many years.

This sense of being utterly weird was especially true this week after a series of sleepless nights leading to some very early mornings coupled with a very late night getting home midweek from a jazz concert, and so, when Friday came and the Third Test began at 2.30am (UK time) due to the change in the time zones at the Waca as opposed to the previous games meaning that, instead of waking up during the tea interval, I was able to get up during the lunch break with the prospect of two full sessions of play to endure as I negotiated a slight sleep-depravity inspired headache, the resurfacing of the rest of the household, breakfast, and the morning commute.

I went downstairs and switched on the old LW radio which has served me so well these past few years and Jonathan Agnew was having a lunchtime chat with an Australian great, Terry Alderman I believe, during which there was no mention of the actual score, but ominous mention was made of how well Warner was playing...

"So, Australia are batting then..." I mused as the kettle boiled and drowned out the sound, realising that the vital toss of the coin had most likely been won by Australia once again.

None the wiser, I felt my way up through the house in the pitch darkness, until I reached the keyboard and, as I waited for the steam-powered computer to stagger through its start-up cycle, I toyed with the DAB radio which I had salvaged from amongst mum's things and tried to work out its mysterious tuning system before being told that BBC Radio 5LSX was "not available..."

It was, of course, and, after the computer finally spluttered into life, I slowly navigated my way to the live link via the BBC website to find out that Australia were 107-3 at lunch, which was okay because, in my imagination (shun, shun, shun...) it could have been far, far worse.

To my own sense of utter joy, first up on commentary duties after the lunch interval was the sublime Henry Blofeld whose pleasant and fruity tones and sense of just enjoying the game that is being played in front of him are always a pleasure to hear. I was rather surprised because I'd missed him during the first two games and I'd begun to believe that he was no longer being picked for the away team any more.

Naturally, as seems to be his way, he managed to get to describe a period of play where Australia seemed to run rampant again after a resurgence seemingly fuelled by a jolly good lunch, which was only checked by the fall of a wicket almost as soon as he handed over to the next chap, Ed Smith, and then Geoffrey came in and seemed to be in a rather understated and reflective frame of mind for a while at least until Aggers joined him and the old double-act was back on form.

By teatime, another wicket had fallen but, rather ominously, Australia were steaming along at 220-5…

The final session was half-listened to at my desk, with occasional interruptions to make myself a cup of coffee, and the day finished with Australia 326-6 and well on their way to winning the Ashes...

Oh well… quel dommage...