I’m obviously not a true blue Aussie, and definitely not a real Adelaidian. Yesterday I accepted an invitation to the cricket with my Dear Husband (thanks for this lovely term, Robyn V) to the One Day International match between Australia and India (I had to ask what type of match we were going to and who was playing!!). We arrived before 2pm, entering this famous cricket ground to a very loud crowd, with lots of cheering and coloured flags. I had been there at least once before for a friend’s 60^th birthday dinner, in the old Bradman Dining room, and for the boys to practice cricket when they were quite young. At that time, the heel broke from one of my shoes, and I fell down the stairs and cracked a rib; I guess someone was trying to tell me to stay away even way back then. Lots of people dressed up, trying to win a competition to a cricket match in the Caribbean. I didn’t know I had to dress up, and I would love the trip, but very possibly if I had won it expect I might just give the cricket a big miss!! By 3.30pm I was wondering (yes, out loud), if it was nearly time to go home. Dear Husband said, why not stay for dinner, and then we’ll go after that. I asked, will that be at 4 o’clock?!! The sun was shining gloriously, we were very spoilt as we were in a corporate box with food and refreshments supplied, the crowd was good fun to listen to, lots of clapping and happy raucous noise, and all the while, I’m wondering, what the hell am I doing here? I did mention in a previous blog or maybe on Facebook, it was to spend time with my Dear Husband, to actually go to a live cricket match to see if I was wrong about not liking it (I wasn’t!!), and as a small tribute to Shane Warne, who I wrote about last week. Well, Warnie, you would not have been proud of me, I was and am a dismal failure as a cricket fan, of any description. I recall going to the cricket in the country a few times when I was young and in love for the first time; I sat there talking to the other bored women, pretending to like it. I guess I was vaguely proud of any runs or catches the (now very ex) boyfriend had made, but to say I liked it would be a serious stretch of my memory or imagination. I suspect many young women decide to like cars, football and cricket, as a way to hang out with boys. For some, the passion never ends, for me, it never really began!