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Celebrating the seasons

"Celebrate the seasons," say the Pagans, both ancient and modern. But I have had problems celebrating our summer so far. When a sport-loving friends came to stay the other week I spotted there was a Twenty20 cricket game on Friday evening, so, armed with some sandwiches, we parked at the ground to find the wicket and surrounds covered with tarpaulins glistening with the very recent rain.

After a while the ground staff started to fold up the covers and carted them off the field with a tractor. Players started rigorous warm up routines. How different to the fifties, when Denis Compton reputedly turned up at Lords still in his dinner suit from the previous night out and promptly scored a hundred before lunch.

Back at Leicester's ground the rain started again, the players retrested and the covers came out once more. This routine happened again, which was when we gave up, ate our sandwiches and retreated, only to find an exctng seven over game had begun.

I had another try the next week with another friend, a school cricket teammate from only a few years after the Compton era, We did see one innings, including a spectacular moment when a might shot hit just above the window of a terraced house outside the ground.

Then the rains came and this time by the time we got home the game was abandoned. Still, I had my family holiday to Provence and Burgundy to look forward to until I read the news about the 'Lucifer' heatwave across mainland Europe. Those Pagans must have had plenty of patience.

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