Village Cricket

I am staying in a village not too far from town during my visit, self-catering. I have stayed here a few times in the past with J, it has felt very odd without her.

The focus of the day has been visiting dad. He was far more alert when I arrived, in a confused way. I had to explain again where Mum was, that I didn’t have to go to work as I’m retired, and that I had neither walked nor cycled to the house. I spent some time holding his hand and talking about all sorts of stuff. He’s been a good dad. Carers C and J arrived, very chatty. They are incredibly patient and kind with dad. And no TV, which was a relief. I am Poirrot-ed out after yesterday.

Before I arrived at dad’s I had a walk around the village, heard my second cuckoo of the year, and visited a nearby water powered corn mill. When I arrived back early evening, and as it was light, I walked up to the parish church again, and heard a loud shout - so I followed it. It was a cricket match. I asked who was playing. It was a friendly (but very competitive), the village team playing a team from East London. Quintessentially English - the sound of leather on willow, and one team talking to each other in a South Asian language, with some impressive beards on display.