It’s just not cricket!
Last night, through the heavy blanket of slumber, loud voices encroached. I struggled to understand. Were they outside? Children’s voices in the middle of the night?
But, no! They were downstairs, in my house, uninvited. As my ears adjusted, I recognised they were not children’s voices at all. With slowly dawning realisation, I understood that the voices were emanating from the television in the sitting room.
Periodically, I recognised an advertisement – something to do with insurance, I think. Advertisements are always louder than the programmes they interrupt, or so it seems to me, and so many of them are about insurance.
The voices were just loud enough to impinge, but not clear enough to be understood, a hindrance to all eavesdroppers, not that I was in the mood to snoop. My dilemma was whether or not I should go down and turn off the television. Had I opted to trudge downstairs, I would have been followed by all the animals, who would then be expecting some sort of attention – a trip into the garden, maybe, or a tasty treat. On balance, it was simpler to remain upstairs and that is what I did. I tried to block out the sound and resume my sleep. I dozed.
Sweet dreams. Jellicoe
I don’t know which cat it was, but one of them had turned on the video recorder, in order to watch a cricket match between England and South Africa. Unfortunately, for England, South Africa won.
To cap it all, Jellicoe has just hooked a buttered scone from my plate, which he then dropped, to Gilbert’s delight and satisfaction.
That’s
not playing fair! It’s just not cricket!
