I have been thinking a lot, recently, about the town that I grew up in. Arundel, West Sussex. South Coast of England.
It was a town of immeasurable attraction, and still is.
And despite my family's somewhat eccentric approach, I believe I had, in the main, a blissful childhood.
I have been wondering why my memories have been dragged back to Arundel so often recently.
Nostalgia regarding school, perhaps? Or rivers, castles and windmills? Open air swimming pools and bridges and old cobbled streets ?
The light and the sun and the air that is just summer.
The sounds of the clapping and of the cheerful sledging. The focus and the enthusiasm. The warmth and the pride.
As a child, I would be there, most weekends, all summer. Between the pool and bike rides and picnics, there was always cricket.
As my children start their foray into the game they already presume to love, we have kanga cricket. They love it. I can feel my lovely husband thanking the powers that be that he met me, a cricket lover, and that we pass this love of the game onto our children.