A day at the cricket. It was Saturday of the first Ashes test, in Birmingham, and also the opening day of the Championship football season. My team, West Brom, were at Nottingham Forest and I would certainly have been there had an old friend not got me a ticket for Edgbaston. I was torn, but since the Albion were kicking off at half five in the televised game, I reasoned I could leave the cricket a little early to nip off to a mate’s house to watch it. And anyway, there’s plenty of time between now and May to give my life to my team.
My day began at Euston Station just after 7 a.m. There were many cricket fans there, the majority of them clutching cans of warm lager for the train journey. I did wonder whether more than seven hours drinking during the day’s play itself wouldn’t be enough, but fair’s fair, it’s thirsty work watching cricket. Several fans were in fancy dress – Widow Twankey, the 118 advert running blokes, a couple of pairs of ugly sisters, many nuns etc., etc. I got myself a coffee and a cheese pasty and felt comparatively virtuous for doing so.
15 August 2019, The Tablet
Mine’s a gallon
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