I played cricket once, I think. I have to say “I think” because, until this week, I wasn’t sure if two hours standing in a field qualified as playing a game of cricket. 

I was working in London and my office had a cricket match arranged against a team from PWC, the accountants. One of my colleagues asked if I wanted to play. I said “no”. They said “we’re desperate and we know you’ve got nothing to do tonight as you just told us you had no plans” and I couldn’t argue against that.

I ended up in a taxi to a cricket club in Greenwich and, from there, to what I was told was an “absolutely vital role of standing right here, next to the boundary, and throwing the ball back if it comes near you.” It didn’t. I spent two hours standing in a corner of a field watching a game of cricket in front of me. At some point, we lost. I only knew this because everyone started to leave and headed to the clubhouse and, only when they reached it, did one man jog back and say: “sorry, I should have said, that’s the game over. We lost.”

Until now, I thought my lack of involvement meant I couldn’t say I was a cricket player.  Unless… “Do you play cricket?” People could ask me and I’d say “Absolutely. You tell me where to stand and I’ll stand with the best of them!”

I thought cricket should involve some element of skill. A fast throw, a curly bounce, a big hit. Not just the ability to stand and watch and not scratch my bum out of boredom.

Yet, it turns out that international cricket is identical to amateur cricket: you also need a man to stand as far away as possible and do nothing for hours on end. 

This was my first time watching cricket. I was lucky to win a pair of tickets in the ballot for the third day of the England v India third test at Lords cricket ground in London. I meant to check the rules of the game before going down and to bring headphones to the ground to listen to Test Match Special (which I knew was a ‘thing to do’) but having forgot to do both, I had to work out what was happening from the action itself. And what I could see was this – there was a player standing on the boundary at all times and it looked like his job was just to throw the ball back when the ball was near him (not very often) and to sign autographs, as one player did by running to the stand and back while the game was still on. 

I could do that. 

I did do that. 

I could be an international cricketer!

(Except for the bowling bit as the players who stood for hours here also appeared to be the one who were best at bowling. I can’t even throw a party, never mind an off-stump in-swinging left-hand googly).

Here’s my tips to a day at Lords:

Tickets

I entered the ballot by selecting a random stand and with no idea what the difference was between different options and seats. You should check. We had tickets in the Compton Stand (a new stand that faces the club house) however it’s top level has only a tiny cover. We were in seats that were exposed to the sun on one of the hottest days of the year. Every time a cloud passed, everyone would cheer.  But, because that only happened every hour or so, we only managed to last 60 minutes before needing to take a break by getting a drink, going for a walk round the stadium or just finding some shade and crashing for 10 minutes before going back.

Dress code?

There’s no dress code at Lords except for certain areas, but there is a general ban on fancy dress and, it turns out, on flags. A man next to us had an Indian flag which he used to cover his knees. A steward asked him to remove it. “Can I not have a flag?” The man asked. The steward said, indicating the rest of the stadium, “can you see any other flags here today?”. There were none. “Fair enough,” said the man, “but you can wave a flag at the Oval”. “Are you at the Oval?” said the sarcastic steward.

Food & Drink

We bought a hamper in advance, which we collected when we arrived. It was excellent, with snacks for breakfast, a full lunch and scones, a cake and macaroons for afternoon tea. It was also pricy, and it appears most people had brought their own food as we didn’t see anyone else with an ‘official’ hamper. 

There’s plenty of food options around the ground and plenty of bars for drinking. There’s also lots of drinks station to get water for free, though naturally these were very busy given the weather. 

We, like most people there ate and drank through the day while watching the game both on the pitch and on the big screen.

Watching the game

From our seats, which were almost as far as you could get from the action, we could see the ball most of the time. I worried beforehand that all we would see is someone’s arm and then we would hear a thwack and would have no idea where the ball was going. The faster the ball the harder it was to see but it was never a problem.

There were screens around the ground showing replays and match info, which made it easy to check what was happening once we worked out that “Ah, the asterix beside their name shows which one is batting!”

There’re breaks in the play for morning and afternoon tea along with 45 minutes for lunch. This helped break up the day and gave longer breaks away from the sun. 

Atmosphere

We thought the atmosphere was good with English and Indian fans mixed in together but a couple behind us said “typical restrained Lord’s atmosphere” at one point of the day. We had nothing to compare it against so perhaps other grounds have better ‘chat’. We enjoyed it.

Travel

Getting to and from the ground was straightforward. To get there, we went to St John’s Wood underground station, and it was just a short walk of a few hundred meters to the ground. To get away, we walked for longer (15 minutes) and went to Marylebone where there was no queue and we got on the underground straight away.

Overall

As a seasoned expert, well, as someone who knew the word “cricket” and not much more, it was an enjoyable day and one that was easy to pick up what was going on. If golf is said to be a good walk, spoiled. Then cricket is definitely a good picnic, enhanced.

I like sports that end on time. Sports that you know when they will finish when you start watching them. Athletics will be near to or close to a world record time. The 100m is not going to be three hours long. Marathons are not going to be 20 minutes. Football is 90 minutes. You can plan around sports with a deadline, you know what you need to do and how long you need to do it.

Tennis on the other hand can last 60 minutes, it can last three days. That’s a commitment I can’t make when I’m sitting down to watch TV. I want to know when I’m going to be finished.

So, when I was lucky enough to get Centre Court tickets for Wimbledon I was wondering whether I would enjoy it or not. I thought I would enjoy it, I don’t mind watching a big of tennis. A bit. I didn’t know what it would be like to watch a game that might never end…

Before the games though, what was the experience of Wimbledon like?

First, getting there: this was straightforward. A busy, but not packed underground to Southfield station, a short walk to the grounds, a short queue to get in (though remember a photo ID for security if you’re the ticketholder) and then we were in the grounds. All very straightforward.

Second, what to do first? Mrs TwinBikeRun is a Wimbledon veteran who enters the ballot each year and queues early in the morning in the years she doesn’t get a ticket through the ballot. She said we should go to Courts 18 or 12 as they have high stands which allow you to see not just the court itself but other courts around the ground. We arrived at 11:20 and Court 18 was already full but Court 12 had spaces and we picked two seats right at the top, which was a good choice. It was 31 degrees and, at the top of the stand, there was a slight breeze. It was still tough in the direct sun but the breeze made a small but very happy difference.

Third, what’s going on? No idea for the first few games. It was a woman’s match with a British player, Heather Watson, in action. It’s was a decent game but I spent most of the time watching the grounds and other games and people.

Fourth, why were you not in Centre Court: it turns out it doesn’t start until later in the day (1:30pm) but the rest of the games start at 11am. We used the time to watch the first game and then get something to eat before going to centre court.

Fifth, what was the food like? Decent. We went to a large food hall below Centre Court for lunch of a wrap (basic, expensive but good quality) and we had a pizza later (much better than expected, crispy and decent dough) and mac & cheese (awful, pasta in a weak cheese juice, not sauce). There are queues, but everything was a queue and we never had to wait too long. 10 minutes at most.

Sixth, and drink? Water, lots of water. They had an Evian stand where you could buy a bottle for £5 and then get unlimited refills but there are also lots of water taps where you can water for free. We had two 750ml bottles at all times and must have drank 4 – 5 litres through the day to survive the heat.

Seventh, and Centre Court: fantastic, though we were lucky to be on the western side so had the benefit of shade from the roof. Even so, I used a small fan to cool myself. Though others there were more ingenious: one man had a cap with a fan and solar panel built into the rim, while another had a panel fan which they attached to the seat in front of them.

And, finally, how was the tennis? We saw the number 3 seed knocked out by an unseeded French tennis player and Novak Djovick suffer a slight scare as he fought to overcome an unseeded American. Both games lasted nearly seven hours. And I have to admit, I was never bored, but I was also not completely caught up in it either. My mind would wander. I’d try and spot famous people in the royal box (An Australian day it seem with Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchette and Rebel Wilson all in attendance), I’d watch what Cliff Richard was doing and tried to spot other British starts in Trevor McDonald, Alexander Armstrong, Justin Rose and Andy Murray’s mum, Judy.

It was easy to leave and get back into Centre Court. We had a break for dinner (the pizza and mac & cheese) and what was noticeable was that as the day went on, the crowd changed as ticket holders left and were replaced by fans who bought tickets that were resold. The atmosphere was certainly rowdier and louder as the day went on, but maybe that’s a result of people drinking or the fact Djovick is more well known and has his own fans out in support.

Overall, definitely an enjoyable day, and a great experience but, as the match didn’t finish until 1040, it was nearly 12 hours of tennis, whichI think may be enough tennis to last me the rest of my life…

Oh, and for getting home, it was a walk back to Southfield where the organisers ensure everyone remains on the pavement (“Get off the road, the council doesn’t let us use the road!”) and they control the number of people crossing roads to ensure that the station is able to cope with numbers. We only have five minute wait before getting on a train.

In two days Iain TwinBikeRun and I will both take part in the Celtman Solo Point Five race. We’ve done it before – see here – so I know the course and the challenge of swimming with jellyfish, cycling up the Beach Na Ba and running around Ben Eighe. It would be better if I also had the legs and arms to do all three rather than just the knowledge but, with two months of illness due TwinBikeChild bringing home every bug from her nursery, my training has been broken and inconsistent.

But, looking at my report from last time, I might still be in better shape than I thought going into the last race. Back then, I’d fractured my foot and had barely run in two months. At least this time I ‘recovered’ from the nursery bugs at the start of May and have at least 5 – 6 weeks of training.

12 weeks would be better. But at least I’ve been swimming, cycling and running as preparation rather than just swimming and cycling like last time.

Fingers crossed!

Every three years my work arranges for a medical check-up. The last time I went I got a clean bill of health except for my hearing as, according to their medical tests, I was “deaf”.

I wasn’t because I could hear them tell me this.

I said: “What?”

And they said “You’re deaf”

And I said “What?” because that joke never gets old.

It turned out that the machine used to test my hearing was broken. It was meant to go “beep” and I was meant to press a button to confirm every time I heard a sound but it went “beep” silently and then blamed me for not hearing it. A re-run of the test a couple of weeks later confirmed there was nothing wrong with my hearing and they said “you’ve got perfect hearing.”

And I said “What?”

And they said…

Told you this joke never gets old.

I was booked into this latest check-up with a different GP and, it turned out they ran a completely different series of tests. They didn’t even test my hearing, but they did record my weight by asking me to take off my shoes and socks and to stand on a metal plate while an electrode was clipped to my finger.

“This will record your body fat percentage,” they said.

And I said “What?” but it didn’t work this time as the test had nothing to do with hearing.

After checking my weight and then my height they confirmed that my body was 14.3% and I said: “WHAT!” as I genuinely couldn’t believe my ears. For the last five years, I’ve had electronic scales that rigidly and consistently told me my body fat was 24%, just shy of being technically obese.

I didn’t believe it but I also didn’t not believe it. I thought it must be accurate-ish and that, despite quite a lot of training at times, and looking more closely too a silhouette of a lamppost than a drummer from a marching band with a drum strapped to his chest, I thought my body fat must be on the high (but invisible) side.

But it wasn’t. It was just wrong. The machine was wrong, the reading was wrong and the whole time I’d been a perfectly normal and slim 14%.

So, if you want to lose weight then just give me a call and, for the right price, I have a weight machine to sell you. Just measure yourself for a year and then get someone else to do it properly and you too can lose 10% body fat just like that.

I’m in Edinburgh, and I’m watching a man blow a large, long thin bubble. 

“That’s right,” he said, “it’s a snake”.

I’m at a kids show and the performer on stage is asking us to guess the “bubble animals” as he guides us through the “bubble jungle” in “Bubbleland”.

“Maybe we’ll see a bubble lion? Or a bubble giraffe? Or even a bubble monkey!” He promises.

He blows another bubble. Kids shout guesses from the crowd.

“That’s right,” he said, “it’s a worm”.

Closely followed by an elephant’s trunk, a sausage dog with no legs, and another snake. 

“I don’t think a bubble can become an elephant,” I whisper to Mrs TwinBikeRun.

“I don’t think it can even become a snake,” she whispers as the bubble pops, yet again.

“I went to a bubble show last year,” said one of my colleauges, after I told them what I was doing. “At the end of the show, they said that they also had an adult only bubble show.”

“What’s an adult only bubble show,” I asked.

“You don’t want to know how they blow the bubble,” they said.

Thankfully the only ‘adult’ moment we had during the show was a strange reference to “When I was a soldier, carrying weapons of war…”.

What?! Weapons of war? Not even ‘bubble weapons of war?!?

At what point, when writing a show for three-year-old kids did the performer think it was right to mention military combat? And that it was better to say, “weapons of war” than to just say “gun”. Was he not carrying a gun? Was it another weapon? Was he carrying a rocket launcher and didn’t want to say that? Either way, he soon moved on and started talking about bubble animals again, but the moment was a strange left turn in an otherwise family friendly show.

“I’m glad we also have lunch to look forward to,” said Mrs TwinBikeRun. And so was I as the temptation to eat too much was irresistible and my original idea of going out for a run after we got home seemed as appropriate as a bazooka in a bubble show.  

My wife asked how many Mission Impossible films had been been made. I said eight. She said never.

“You’ve seen the first seven at least twice each,” I said.

“I don’t remember them,” she said, “there’s the one which starts in a restaurant.”

“That’s the first one,” I said.

“And the one where there’s a woman, and she’s the ‘bad guy’, and she’s on a train.”

“That’s the first one too.”

“Oh, and there’s the one where Tom Cruise hangs from a rope and steals something.”

“That’s also the first one.”

“Oh, then there’s the one he’s hanging off a building.”

“That’s the fourth one.”

“And the one with a desert storm.” She said.

“Also the fourth one.”

“Is that not all of them?”

Which means, according to my wife, there’s only been two Mission Impossible films, the first and the fourth ones – and not eight at all, which must be disappointing for Tom Cruise to hear after spending 30 years of his life running, jumping, hanging off things and generally risking his life for our entertainment.

It’s the same though with triathlons. No one keeps track of how many you do and no one, except you, can ever remember more than one of them afterwards.

For me, whenever someone asks me about triathlons (which is not often but occasionally happens with small talk), they always ask me about jumping off a ferry in Norway.

“You jumped off a ferry, didn’t you?” They ask.

And I say “yes” and then switch the conversation to pass over the fact I didn’t complete Norseman after getting hypothermia in the bike leg – more here.

I wonder if Tom Cruise has similar conversations.

“Hello Tom Cruise, you jumped off a mountain in Norway, didn’t you.”

He says “yes” and then moves the conversation on so he doesn’t have to talk about Dead Reckoning.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that while triathlons are fun and challenging – don’t expect anyone else to be interested in them. Even if you’re Tom Cruise.