It’s a late July Saturday, and a series-defining Test match is simmering just up the road. Bloomin’ marvellous. I love cricket. Except, I’m not there.
No, I’m London-bound on a train lacking in both air con and the requisite number of seats, to watch a pre-season friendly.
I loathe pre-season friendlies. I understand their necessity but tend to swerve them like a politician does answering a query.
