The last day of the Test stretched on long after England’s batsmen had been and gone. When the presentations were finished, the interviews wrapped, the hoardings packed, the crowd still lingered in the stands with nothing better to do on a free sunny afternoon than ask each other: “Who fancies another?”
I passed three men sprawled in the front row of the Mound Stand, all in linen suits, one with his loafers up on the boundary boards. “Excuse me,” he called out as I walked around the outfield, “but what happens now?” I wondered what he was talking about. “Is there going to be some music or something?”
