A delightful cricket tour had been going
extremely well without cricket when the first of our games became due.
As it did though, the low-lying cloud that had been clinging to the
cliffs all morning took on a new intensity, while increasing the
darkness or decreasing the light, whichever takes your fancy. Then it
started to rain. You do not need that on cricket tour unless you are
subject to one of two things: 1. You have a hangover from Hell, or 2.
refer to 1. above.
Being the responsible Fixture Secretary that I am, I telephoned Chris
at Mount Hawke's ground to find out all about the situation. The
gentleman who answered at the clubhouse said "It's fine up here
and we're all waiting for you." Fine words indeed, as the convoy
of cars drove their way slowly through the intensifying rain and
degenerating levels of light (how's that description then?) on
increasingly slippery roads. On reaching their ground, it abated just
enough for us to run in to the pavilion with all our stuff before the
Heavens opened once again. On our arrival, we could still see the
drystone wall on the far side of the ground, however after another ten
minutes of descending fog put paid to our even viewing a hand in front
of our face.
Sadly, this meant an early internal bath for our guts, otherwise known
as a couple of pints of beer in the clubhouse as members of the
opposition gradually decreased in number. Had the sun suddenly emerged
from out of the blue (or we viewed it, dark gray) the resulting game
would have been extremely interesting. As it was, most of us could
hear the distant call of the Watering Hole on Perranporth beach, the
result of two days solid boozing, as per usual. The evening was taken
up with the traditional Sunday Evening meal in the Waterfront Restaurant
where we witnessed a clearing sky with a smattering of sunset
colouring before retiring to
bed for an early night. Oh yeah, some chance.