June 2: Jimmy, the Aussie & the Falling Temperature
The second game of the Champions Trophy sees Australia and New Zealand clash in Birmingham. I am settled in in my new hostel in Chelsea in London but wonder if they will tune in to this game.
I needn’t have bothered.
The bar-tender, Johnny, is an Aussie. Apart from waiting on guests to check in, he is also waiting for the toss.
We get talking & he laments the loss of bowler-friendly pitches in Australia.
Of the WACA from the yonder years. The wonder years.
Reminisces those cracks on the tracks. Is wary about the new Perth cricket stadium that will host internationals from next year. Things won’t be the same again, he says.
Cannot help but agree. Those Curtly Ambrose spells rush past my eyes like Jimmy isn’t even there.
I attempt a cider with my pizza. Think I should stick to my odd beer.
Later, dinner’s in the form of Chinese; hot and steaming rice, much needed on an evening when it’s getting colder.
The restaurant serves pan-Asian cuisine but more vitally is quite hard on those who don’t finish off the greens on their plates.
I am not much of a mushroom-eater which forms a substantial part of my dish. Force-feed myself with them but it worries me when I leave behind a couple of them.
The waiter looks at me and my mushrooms like the immigration officer at the Heathrow airport.
He lets me go. Much like that officer.
The hostel room itself isn’t the best I have stayed at. And I think I am beginning to come down with a cold. Which doesn’t make for a great experience either.
It could be to do with the changing weather, the falling temperatures. And then a realisation dawns upon me.
I have forgotten my meds at my friends’ house.
It’s too late in the night to get them now but then again, it’s a matter of two days, in Cardiff and Birmingham, shouldn’t be that big an issue, would it?
Turns out, it was.