I was never an enthusiastic cricketer as a youngster. Incompetent, I suppose would be the word to describe my batting and bowling. Fielding, too, come to that. Actually I rather liked fielding if only I could sit in the long grass as far from the crease as possible like Vivian Stanshall’s odd boy and hope the ball was never thwacked in my direction. Competent cricketers would make demands like ‘middle and leg’ when stepping up to bat. I had no idea what they meant. They may as well have been as Jake and had an extra leg as far as I was concerned. I always hoped to be bowled as quickly as possible so I could go back to the pavilion for a doze. Lack of team spirit, that man.

This time round there will be pictures. Lots more pictures. I have a lot of old stuff to stick up here. Stuff like this:

When Leg Transplants Go Wrong

Another scrawl. Neither useful nor edifying but it keeps me amused and that’s all that matters.

Staring danger in the face makes your doom no less inevitable.

Sometimes I feel like this. Sometimes I don’t. Either way, it’s one of relatively few drawings of mine that I take much pleasure from looking at.