Mrs Parrot has taken herself off to Anglesey to join her sister and friend for a camping stay — three women and umpteen dogs. Which means me and the little Parrots have been left to fend for ourselves, and we’ve done pretty well, even if I do say so myself.
Okay, so my catering arrangements didn’t quite go to plan. The increasingly unreliable Metcheck.com had been promising a glorious Saturday and I planned accordingly — steaks, chicken and lamb sausages for a barbie. Instead of clear skies, the day grew more and more cloudy and by evening there was rain. So a Chinese takeaway instead.
On the plus side, the weather at Lord’s has been okay, and England seem to have a grip on their match with the West Indies. There is something indefinable about the English love of cricket — it’s almost as if it’s inbred.
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed watching on tv, uninterrupted by other distractions. But despite the excellent Freddie Flintoff, the interesting stuff has been the adverts.
You can always tell the target audience of tv programmes by the ads. Footie in particular is all about commercials for beer and cars. But cricket and the two main ads have been for cheap car insurance and haemorroids. What this tells us about cricket-lovers I’m not too sure. Maybe it’s long days sitting on wooden benches in what we laughingly call summer in the UK.