Linseed oil and cut grass

I played my youthful cricket on wickets  which were cut into steeply sloping pitches. Cover drives which should have raced over the outfield either thumped into the hillside or sailed out into space, and batsmen, who believed that they had perfected the backwards defensive shot, were regularly caught by fielders who had taken up a position ten yards from, and six feet below, the bat. When I moved into this High Peak village, I assumed that it would be the same here. But our cricket team plays on a pitch which is almost as flat as the famously sloping Headingley and Lord’s and, unlike the village cricket clubs of my youth, it is sponsored by local businesses. More impressive still, it owns a bowling machine, an innovation which was not invented in the days when I took guard. Last Sunday, intrigued to discover what else had changed, I joined the crowd of spectators (ten in all) who were watching a friendly match against a neighbouring village.