My cricketing skills were initially honed in the back garden of my parents’ house, improved by my father’s patience and understanding of the game, then nurtured and tampered with by a succession of teachers and coaches. At junior school I took wickets for fun, relying on the inability of both my peers and visiting umpires to read my brand of lobbing leg-breaks. That early promise subsided as I gradually played at higher levels until finally realising that whereas the other players in my age group had improved, my ability, to use a linguistic term, had fossilised. My career highlight came playing for Somerset under 15s when, facing our Yorkshire counterparts, I was bowled Hoggard for nought.  My last outing was some years ago on a windy pitch in Bristol where, if memory serves me, I made a decent contribution with the bat to an eventually successful run chase. Since then my only active participation has been to practise the doosra with a tennis ball, up and down my living-room floor. Passion for the game, however, has never been higher. This blog’s principal aim is to demonstrate that.

My cricketing allegiances begin and end with Somerset CCC, irrespective of my nationality.

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