It had been a good run. Capernoited in Queenstown with Bumble and the camera lads, dancing and disorderly in Dunedin with Midnight and the Tredwell crew*, wobbly in Wellington following a day’s hospitality courtesy of the Beige Brigade**, all over it in Auckland with Scene, Eric frae Lomond, Blair and his home brews then, finally, last week’s real ale-heavy homecoming session in Ampthill with some of my lads. Great nights all, chock full of great people.

Last night was more sedate.


I love Dad’s Army. It is brilliant. Allied with a roaring fire, a slice of simnel cake & cheddar with my feet up and slippers on it makes for a perfect Saturday night in.

Which, for once in a while, is every bit as good as a Saturday night out.


My Test Match companions pictured here half an hour after the epic draw at Eden Park. I’ve settled on the Tredwell Crew as a name owing to Greg’s fixation with his local hero, a man who, he insists, is going to lead us to an Ashes triumph this summer. The rest of us were happy to indulge him.
Left to Right: Lucky Paul, Greg, Keith, Jacky & Me. If I look distracted it’s because I’m instructing the clueless bloke holding my iPad on how the camera facility works.


It had been a lovely afternoon in the packed Beige Tent. Messrs Lane and Ford held court as various New Zealand cricketing folk popped in for a beer. Giles, Billy, Southgate and several more from the Barmy Army were there as well. The picture was taken, courtesy of the lovely Tracy, in the taxi en route to Ash’s Fush & Chups Extravaganza. It was probably a Righteous Brothers song.
Left to Right: China’s mate Neil, Me and Woofy. He’s got some stamina that lad, best Kiwi wing man since Wynton Rufer. If I look drunk, it’s because I probably am.