I have not got the hang of this. I set off to yesterday’s hastily rearranged match in Fun-Gary (Hello Mr Flower, well done on your new Elstow CC role.) determined not to be caught out by the weather.

A fresh wind had blown away the stickiness of the last few days, one or two drops of rain hung around like Jason Gallian, the skies looked like some kind of grey ripple ice cream. Contemplating another afternoon on the knoll, I packed my bag with two waterproofs and a book for the inevitable delays while I put in my walking shoes and fleece. I was prepared. Then this happened.

Bother! Sun cream, how on earth did I forget that?

England won by 46 runs and I witnessed something I hope I see a lot more of in the coming months. A hatrick wicket maiden over by an Englishman. Congratulations Stuart Broad.

Venturing down to the ground today along with some inquisitive Swedes, Swiss and Somersetians (along with ECC’s new recruit- though he doesn’t know it yet- Chelmsford Charlie) and a French girl from the hostel, that particular feat will take some explaining. Anyone got one of those tea towels handy?
As well as some sun cream…..

Appendix 1: It has happened before. Again, when setting off for cricket it was overcast with a chill breeze. Several hours later this happened.

Seriously. Slip, slop, slap.

(By the way, hello to The Goosh-Big Red- and Phil, thanks for the photo. Great days.)

Like the stretcher-bound Anthony Quayle in The Guns Of Navarone, there’s been several times I’ve wondered whether it would be best to go on without them. Sat like a dead weight at the bottom of the rucksack, taking up valuable book space, I’ve thought about leaving them behind in exchange for an interesting curio or a souvenir t-shirt. Now I’m in New Zealand their value has rocketed higher than the international career of James Tredwell.
New Zealand is not a place for espadrilles and not only because of the suspicious looks they attract from some of the lock forward shaped locals. New Zealand is a place for real shoes.

Behold! My ‘callipers’ as they have been Christened, rather harshly I think, by an old pal of mine (Hello Chubbs!). Either way, for five bucks with staff discount from the factory store (Thank you Laura, I’m still very grateful!) they are worth their weight in gold over here.

So with a few hours to go before the start of play, weather permitting naturally, at The Cobham Oval, I thought I’d have a bit of a stroll around Fun-Gary (If you’re reading, hello Wilstead FC legend Mr Ward!) and the surrounding area. Heading up from the Town Basin to Mair Park then up to Mount Parihaka (Pack it in smut fans, it’s a Look Out Post….) it was two hours rewardingly spent and a reminder, as if I needed one, as to why this country is so close to my heart.

Against the backdrop of the gathering Northern gloom the Cobham Oval’s scoreboard stoically offered a beacon of hope. “Cricket, Where Anything Can Happen!”

How very true. Sadly today in the Northern District’s capital, Whangarei (Pronounced Fun-Gary, apparently. Hello Mr McCafferty!) this happened…..

Cue a well-worn playlist of rain related songs from the venue’s PA system. At the start of the tenth over, with the New Zealand XI 69-1, play was abandoned for the day. The match has been hastily re-arranged for tomorrow with a further fixture scheduled for Wednesday.

England and their supporters, of which there quite a few here in Whangarei, will hope this isn’t portentous for the rest of their time here.