Fetching stumps from Bristol

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I even fielded this delivery too, as it drifted wide of off stump. Who says men can't multitask?

Due to a critical discrepancy between the Regent's Park kickabout crew's general desire to play cricket, and a general lack of any cricketing paraphernalia among us, I sent a smoke signal to my parents last week wondering if I could pick up my old teenage cricket bat and stumps from them at some point soon.

They replied saying that they were going to Ireland on Monday and wouldn't be back until mid July. But I would be welcome to pop down this weekend, "although obviously we can't change our plans at such short notice." (My dear Father obviously assumed I would be put out by the absence of an international welcoming committee and 6 course meal.)

It was all or nothing, really; this pressed me into action and I heroically sped down to Bristol on Saturday afternoon, picked up the bat and stumps, briefly said "hello" to both parents, and shot back up to London in time for cucumber sandwiches and ginger ale at Sunday lunch.

Mike has since questioned whether this was entirely worth it.