Up on Swallow Heights

it was our last Sunday game today, and we found ourselves out at Oxton, a ground we played at last year with the world's most ramshackle pavilion that was wetter inside than out in the rain, and sheep baa-ing right up to the boundary edge.

Well this year a new pavilion has appeared, with nice tables and a nice kitchen and dressing rooms you aren't at risk of drowning is, but of course progress means we means a bit of charm.

It's still a sunning setting, above the Tolkien sounding Green Dragon pub, with the constant twitterings of swallows and house martins as they feed up for migration around the ground. THere are trees and open fields, people going for walks, and a dog who decided to field the ball for us and cover the ball with slobber.

Oddly enough our young leggie bowled his best ball of the day after that.

As ever, it was a long old slog in the field, but our heads never dropped. As captain, like I was today, I'm not bad at this aspect of the job, although I'm tactically probably quite hopeless. Our Under 15s had a lot of energy today. Ah, I wish I was young again.

So, they got 290. Ahem.

So we batted, and I did my nature walk. Not much to see, apart from a giant parasol mushroom one of our team insisted I took a look at. It was markedly warmer than yesterday, thank god.

We batted well, for all our 40 overs. One our number, our only senior team player, got 64, and even I hit a boundary in scoring 6. Slightly annoyed by my batting partner running me out trying to give me the strike though. That was my highest score since May.

Great day though, enjoyed myself, and the Oxton chaps said we were a credit to our club. Can't say fairer than that really.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 20.08.17