Actually. I don’t mind cricket. If I was forced to have one sport on TV in the house at least once a week, then I might very well choose cricket. Certainly not Aussie rules football and if I could ban horse racing off the face of the earth completely I would.
The gentle sound of leather on willow is fine by me – and I actually went to see a one-day match many years ago and just happened to witness Alan Lamb playing for England knock an impossible 18 runs off the last over of the match to win it for England. Hurrah! That cheered me up just thinking about it.
It was also nice to read today an article in praise of 2016. A lot of what I have read online seems to have been specifically put there to reinforce the general opinion that 2016 has been a cow of a year. David Bowie seemed to have been ahead of the curve again when he got out early in January and since the beginning of the year we have lost a slew of talent, Brexit has caused chaos, The US election result is still a matter of hot debate – everyone seems unhappy. Except this one bloke, who wrote an article about it.
Ten years ago, in 2006 he was diagnosed with an agressive form of cancer and told that most people only survive a few months but that rarely a few make it through to a longer prognosis and that could mean up to ten years. After falling very, very ill very quickly, a junior doctor suggested he try a treatment that sometimes worked – but no one knew why. He tried it and was writing the article to celebrate having arrived at the tenth ‘extra’ year of life he has since enjoyed. He has no idea what, if any future is left to him, but he does know that a decade ago he was facing the very real likelihood of none at all and while many people will look back on 2016 as a terrible year and one they are glad to see the back of, he just wanted to say he was very happy to have been around to witness every single one of its days.
It is a timely reminder, that this year has probably brought plenty of good news for people as well as bad – and that goes for me too. Tonight, though, just to get back to the mundanities of me, it has brought me a cricket. A small cricket who seems to be in love because he is chirping away like bileo from some hidden corner of my kitchen. He may actually be in the roof cavity because I have looked everywhere in an attempt to locate him and set him free outside to pursue his interests, but I can see him nowhere.
It is quite difficult to follow the sound of a cricket and pinpoint it, and he may have been sniggering from another area of the kitchen while the sound waves generated by his legs bounced off the walls and confused me, but I suspect he had crawled into a gap from outside and the sound was coming through the ceiling. Eventually it was so loud, I had to put the TV on to try and drown out the noise while I write this blog.
Not sure how good an idea that was – the TV sprang into life on the station that my husband had been watching. I should have known what would be on, it was cricket.