Another northern beer –
Timothy Taylor’s –
and a decent steak
with Lord Rees
in a pint-sunk pub
in Upper Shincliffe
as our slow prelude
to Chester-le-Street
and England’s cricketers
in whitened armour
taking eyed guard
and aim at hard balls
bowled by
other hemisphere men –
a southern arm set fast
here up north –
it could go either way

For Tony Rees

Scuttled and wind-licked
we hunkered with beers
under the Shane Warne Stand

as scurried rainclouds toyed
with our long-hatched scheme
for a day of World Cup Cricket

under an English summer –
but no plan was framed for stacks
of latin-named dark formations

And a record was set at that game –
the 2nd shortest world cup match –
ever – and we were there to see it

It is the day after
the last red ball
and rain has found
the indentations
made by the size
eleven landings –
those measured
imprints on grass
which were placed
half a dozen times
in the hunt for another
man’s number –
And another summer
is ticked off
and recorded inside
the scorer’s book.