V&A PLAYERS:Roger Smith, Rob Noble, Sunil Julka, Tom Bird, Andy Taylor, Rob Taylor [Skip], Nick Emley, Rupert Morris, Louis Jacot, Adam Jacot, Dennis de Caires, Tom P-G, Richard Chatterton. Dennis de Caires

The Hemmingford Hermits were founded a year after us, and named after a pub in North London where the founders got drunk. They still do, but in their own homes. Many of the original members are now too infirm or gaga to make it to Stonor but their indomitable skipper, Terry Blake, still bats and captains with authority, although he no longer bowls his (very) slow tweakers, which was always a welcome bit of light relief. He has slowed down and was predictably run out, albeit by a magnificent throw from Richard Chatterton. Alas the Bevin family, the irascible Jerry and his two sons, no longer entertain us with their yells of abuse in the field, usually directed at each other.

We lined up (in a 35 over game) like this: Roger Smith, Rob Noble, Sunil Julka, Tom Bird, Andy Taylor, Rob Taylor [Skip], Nick Emley, Rupert Morris, Louis Jacot, Adam Jacot, Dennis de Caires, Tom P-G, Richard Chatterton. Dennis de Caires, who is pretty sharp, made it 13. He was right and captains in future may have to be ruthless in culling excess numbers, 12 is fine but 13 is at least one too many.

We batted first, with Tom Bird and Rob Noble opening. The choice of Tom to open was inspired, it guaranteed quick runs or a quick exit. Although Rob succumbed to a good catch (for 5) Tom smacked some big hits in a 50 partnership with Rob Taylor, including a powerful 6, for a speedy 34 which eased the pressure on incoming batsmen. Andy Taylor, after an uncertain start, then played masterfully and he and brother Rob put on 35 quick runs before Rob was caught on the boundary (for 33) off what might have been called a no-ball if the umpires had been harsh. Enter Richard Chatterton, who began slowly, very slowly. Watching with Lachlan I muttered that he might not have grasped the urgency of limited overs cricket, playing posh league stuff. Lachlan said he was building an innings. And so it proved. A classical flick to the square leg boundary announced a flurry of boundaries of impeccable pedigree, and he and Andy (66) advanced from our lunchtime tally of 103 to a final total of 202 in just 13 overs. Richard was not out 44.

Lunch was perfectly judged by Sarah, no easy matter as we had numerous WAGS and spectators (including most of the Bird family) eagerly guzzling her unpretentious little paté et jambon fumé avec salade de pommes de terre et tomates au basilic. One spectator who was unwelcome was a thief. Some time in the morning a chap walked into our dressing room through the back door, was seen to change into short trousers, and departed with £50 nicked from the wallet of Tom Bird. This has never happened before. Those who saw him assumed he was with the opposition.

At luncheon there was an interesting discussion about infidelity and whether drunkenness was an excuse. The general consensus was that it was a poor one. We moved on to first wives or husbands, and Roger recounted how his first missus, an Aussie, had defenestrated him the second he landed on the tarmac, newly-married, in Oz, which at least showed admirable decisiveness. Sarah Jenkins was about to start an interesting story called What I did on My First Honeymoon when she suddenly clammed up, as though there was some exotic secret to hide. I recounted how I was forced to give my first wife (or co-habitant) my prize set of five Swiss copper-bottomed saucepans when I left her which the bastard still has and never fucking uses, not that I am bitter. We also discussed God, and the fundamentalist theory that dinosaurs died out cos they were too big and fat to get up the gangplank of Noah’s Ark. Sunil explained his diplomatic problems concerning his forthcoming nuptials and I offered to intercede with his family, but he seemed to think this unwise. He implied that I was the last person he would ask to have a quiet word with his mum, as I had the tact and discretion of Mike Tyson. Which brings me to his famous aphorism that everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.

Which is true of cricket. Rob Taylor had a perfectly good bowling plan until their No. 3 started to wallop our bowlers for successive sixes and fours. They had started slowly, too slowly, with Terry Blake unable to get Dennis or Richard Chatterton away. Their other opener, a very fine bat called Farrell, was bamboozled by Dennis and trapped LBW. But then their ringer came in, a professional cricket instructor called Holman, and a superb batsman. He and Terry upped the scoring to the required rate and, although Terry was run out just as he threatened to cut loose (actually, does he cut loose nowadays?) and their No. 4 Brook was nicely caught and bowled by Tom P-G, their No. 5 (Wootten) continued the onslaught on the bowling. After 5 overs Tom P-G had one wicket for 12 runs. After 7 overs he had one wicket for 43. Rob Taylor was forced to bring Chatterton back. The Hermits were 165 for 3 and needed to score at a little over 7 an over to win, easily within their grasp. Rob turned to Roger Smith to bowl, after a respectable spell from Louis Jacot, who ended with 0-23. The Smith third ball to Holman was skied to Sunil in the deep. All eyes were on him. Catch it and the game was won, surely. Sunil ran forward, and the ball flew over his head. Smith said a rude word which I, as umpire, affected not to hear. Sunil, I regret to say, also missed another rather easier chance. He is clearly distracted by the succession of ecumenical matrimonial services that beckon, Hindu, Christian etc. With possibly a bar mitzvah thrown in.

Things were looking dicey, not helped perhaps by one lapse in captaincy. With Wootten and Holman smiting fours and sixes to the pavilion boundary Rob chose to place there Messrs Emley, Noble and Jacot A. Which is sort of like putting Jonesy, Private Godfrey and Capt. Mainwairing on the boundary, or Hinge and Bracket and Darby and Joan (less Darby). For connoisseurs of coarse fielding Adam and Nick did not disappoint.

But then came the second over of Roger Smith, who used to be a fast bowler but is now slow medium with the emphasis on slow. It was an over of contrasts. I counted 4 full tosses that went for 16 runs. But then he bowled a straight tempter and Holman struck it firmly back to Roger. Who caught it! Out went their star man. And then, blow me down, Smith bowled their next batsman, Panton! He finished with 2 for 27 off 5 overs. Job done.

Julka, who had bowled some undistinguished stuff, restored his reputation with two wickets in his last over (2-26) and Chatterton, Man of the Match with his chanceless 44* and 2-16, picked up the tail. The Hermits lost by 32 runs. They are good at losing, they do it with grace, they are well practised.

As notable for the right reasons as the theft was for the wrong ones was a catch by Rupert Morris. Yes, Rupert Morris. No doubt he will talk you through it. He palmed the ball low down, when all assumed he had spilled it. He was immediately surrounded by cheering and aghast teammates. One should cherish these rare moments.

Last week Brecon, the dog that trolls up with our Tea Lady, spent the day shagging my leg. He did this without the aid of testicles, no mean feat. I have been asked whether the relationship has developed. It has not, the fucker did not even deign to appear on Saturday. How do you think that makes ME feel?