You would think that the NHS, given that they tailor their entire resources to fathers of seven who have ***-changes and then want their tattoos removing (yes, I DID read yesterday's Daily Express to my eternal cost, a fascist rag that claims to be The World's Greatest Newspaper) would be keen to assist me in my post-surgical recovery by putting ball-by-ball commentary of the HRH Surrey v Derbyshire clash on hospital radio.
But no. The Excess even added insult to injury by featuring Rikki Clarke in a 'special', suggesting that giving the vice-captaincy to GOBNAGAAA* would be the making of him, and see him storming back into the England side before long.
I was stuck - thinking about cricket, bed-ridden and no way of finding out how my proud lads (and Rikki) were going on. Still, before I went into hospital yesterday, it was pouring. I consoled myself with the likelihood that it would be a damp squib - at least given the forecast. I put it from my mind.
Imagine my surprise when I got home and checked the scores, Derbyshire were doing well - and so was Rikki. I am like a dog with two tails - just as well, given the nature of my surgery.
*Great One, But Not As Great As Ajit Agarkar