Jesus boots and St Peter's willow

The world has clearly gone mad. Freezing pea soup fog in Edinburgh yesterday, and today we're digging out shorts and sandals as the thermometer creeps to 20ºC. That's unheard of in a lifetime round these parts!

Quite unrelated but my youngest has spontaneously developed a fascination with cricket, something to do with having a Physics teacher who is from an unspecified part of England (Peter hasn't a clue). I had promised him a knockabout back earlier in the week when we were all still wrapped up in mid-layers and thick socks... so to find we would be playing in the warm sunshine was an unexpected bonus.

I duly dug out the ancient bat and (proper) ball and we put on a show for the intrepid pale sunbathers in Bruntsfield Links. The old knees held up ok and Peter loved it, picking it up fast. The distinctive sound of leather smacking on willow took me back a few years too; I was brought up in Yorkshire and cricket - along with rugby and Tetley Bitter - really were all compulsory, not optional, parts of everyday life. And you can take the Lad out of Yorkshire, but... etc etc.