Hurrah!
I try to keep my ejaculations appropriately timed—those who vociferate too early look over-eager and those who wait until others start cheering end up looking like sycophants.
But I’ve come over all excited by the opening of the Adelaide test!
When the first wicket fell, Christopher uttered a sudden loud cry and to be honest, I felt embarrassed for him. I’ve had experience with Australians going down quickly and they rarely bring satisfaction in the long run (which is why I no longer accept drinks from men at Walkabout). But when Ponting was out for a golden duck, I admit my face flushed and I could feel the dew on my forehead. Christopher poured me my second highball (I need the caffeine to help keep me awake), and, fuck me, if Clarke wasn’t out, caught in the slips.
Could this really be happening?
Today of all days, England needed a sporting boost. This could be it. I know it may be early but thank you, my men in flannels, for an incredible start.
Christopher has now slipped into his jim-jams and curled up by the fire. But I can assure you: all night long, I’ll be awake—with bated breathe, racing pulse and slightly moistened thighs.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
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