cricket tea

Husband got back from Sardinia with bags under his eyes and nothing in his bags for me or the girls. Disappointed from N8. Where are our Italian souvenirs? Not even a curl of penne or a moldy olive from the crust of a pizza. Dreadful.
And today was Husband's cricket match against the Greenwich Giants. That makes them sound like an exotic team of Americans. But what I mean is that they're actual biological giants. The average height of the opposing team is probably about 6ft-4inches. The average height of the Ladder Eleven is what, maybe 5ft-2inches? The air is more polluted up in N8. We're all a bit stunted. So anyway. I gather from upset-Husband in SE10 that the Giants squashed the Eleven (David and Gollaeth is a fable afterall) and have probably since put them on the bbq and actually eaten them half-cooked, cricket bats as skewers and the balls, well, enough said.
I realised as I drove down to SE10 that I was the only cricket wife attending from Husbands' team, except for my gorgeous sister in law (who forgot her cake...) and I realised why as the teams got on with their standing around on the pitch for 5hours. The cricket tea and the kiddy-care. Its all left up to the wife (and her loyal wife-helpers). I mean. I like my kids and I like tea. But somehow on the side of a cricket pitch it just doesn't have the same delightful ring to it.
So I had this ridiculous conversation with one of the team-players of Husbands team whilst Husband was on the pitch having Giants chuck fast balls at his balls (not sure I noticed his jock-strap going on - hm, potential for real pain I thought, and when I was sorting out the tea, I found a jock-strap, kind of scrumpled up and a bit sweaty looking right by the sandwich box. A bit un-savoury thought I, and then I thought, (cue evil laughter) I could just pop it ON the sandwiches and the boys would never know... A bit like the waiter spitting in the pea soup...).
Anyway, conversation went along the lines of:
me: so, how long till I need to get the sandwiches out and prepare the tea?
him: oh, about 26 overs.
me: right. so how long till I need to get the sandwiches out and prepare the tea?
him: oh, yes. well, probably in about 182 balls.
me: look you stupid fuck, I don't work in overs or balls. just tell me how many minutes?
him: (looking at me with fear) I don't know.
So I got the tea stuff out and cut the sandwiches thinking, wish I'd rubbed the jock strap on these and I hope they go stale and curl. That'd show them! I mean, god...tell the time in sodding OVERS what is THAT about?
So. That was cricket tea.
It's really good fun. Michelle, you'd have loved it. Honest to god.
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