This set is especially dear to Mr Ó Flaithbheartach’s heart. Born in Ireland (he retains a slight Gaillimh accent and a tendency to decorate his speech with phrases as Gaeilge), he has been a resident of our village for nearly seventy years, for more than half of which he used to play for the village cricket team. He was a belligerent middle-order batsman, averaging 36.75 with a highest score of 123 not out (132 minutes, 119 balls, 5 sixes and 14 fours). Many opponents struggled to pick his crafty left-arm wrist spin; 8473.2 – 1562 – 23929 – 1484 are the vital statistics for his career, with a best performance of 8-17. He himself conceded that fielding was not his strong point, but this deficiency was more than compensated for by the number of players (normally over half the side) whose fielding appeared to be the only possible justification for their presence in the eleven.

Today Mr Ó Flaithbheartach continues to pays his club membership dues and is technically still registered as a player. But, though he has never officially retired, the chances of his turning his arm over again are slim and for all practical purposes he has long since lain down his willow for good. However, he still turns up to support the team at every home game, sitting in his deckchair in front of the pavilion, drinking slow pints of healthy Jumble’s and munching his way through the delicious cakes, biscuits and sandwiches provided for tea by Emma Hammond, a caterer by trade married to the club wicketkeeper Patrick. He says there is no better way to pass a Sunday afternoon, that the craic there and at The Flying Cow afterwards, where the opposition are entertained (assuming they haven’t all gone off in a huff in protest at some allegedly dodgy lbw decision), is unbeatable. It’s hard to argue with him.