Tan’s croquet set arrived. The sound of mallet on ball was marvellous to hear again. I started well, winning the first game easily, then gradually deteriorated, until it seemed I could no longer strike anything cleanly. Or, rather, I could strike it okay, but it didn’t go where I expected. I put this down to devious ‘burrows’, heavy dew on the grass, and constant verbal sniping from lesser players capitalising on my momentary lapse. So far as I’m concerned, the scatter pattern on the mallet faces tells it like it is.

I was invited, but I chose not to go, on account of England’s almost certain collapse.

Liv’s gone to the last day of the Test. England need 284 with all ten wickets left. It could go either way.

Seven is pretty scabby, especially the tank tops, which remind me of something I used to wear; but I think five is worse.

Of four games I played last night, I managed to lose four. By the end, I even thought of trading in my trusty wooden racquet! Doubles aren’t really my cup of tea, but I never thought I was that bad. I was practically tripping over my own feet, never mind my partners.

On a lighter note, the first rush of “Nine silent ones n’ Bob” has been filmed and looks, to my eye, startlingly good.

Someone sent me this link. I feel a photo or two could be taken in Littlehampton; but how to escape afterwards?

www.chavscum.co.uk