I’m sure there is an air of anticipation in the air.
The smell of freshly cut and expertly manicured grass, the small tear in the eye of a Bangladeshi player who steps out there for the first time, the hushed silence as the cap parts Eoin’s short gingerish locks and the glint of sunlight that filters through the gloom onto the father time weathervane.
Old men shuffling in with their telegraph’s wedged under their arms.
Bangladesh supporters being just a little too loud and excited for pink cheeked old men.
Young Tories coming to the ground in groups excitedly talking about mergers, shares and other ways to rip each other off.
NPower girls grabbing the attention of one and all by looking like Nazi cheerleaders.
Cricket tragics who are wearing replica shirts or tour shirts, team caps, runners in case they get a late call up and who have children in roughly the same attire.
Cricket sadists who are wearing less cricket like attire but are obviously looking down their nose at people who do and who have already worked out all the best paths to the bar.
Bacon and egg tie wearing members who have chosen outfits that will spectacularly clash with their ugly ties.
First timers at Lord’s who will rush into the ground with a sense of excitement wearing one thing, and come out with Lord’s apparel.
The picnic set who will bring in the Lord’s limit of alcohol in Champagne form, roasted duck panini, gourmet crisps and mini scotch eggs.
There will be apprentice members all over the ground, listen for the tut tuting that doesn’t come from the members.
Stone faced ground clerics who will not allow anyone to even look at their mobile devices, even for the time.
Emotionally cold guards who pat you down as you enter the ground even though you’ve come up with a joke just for the occasion.
And the press running around with their important lanyards on trying their best to get up to the safety of the press box so the stain of the regular people won’t touch them.
I am assuming this is happening as I am not there.
But one great thing about Lord’s, and cricket in general, is that this is still probably truish.
Lord’s bills itself as the home of cricket, so today there will be much chat about exactly who these Bangladeshis are. Do they play much cricket in Bangladesh? Who is their captain? Are they still poor? I knew a chap who was stationed in Bangladesh during the war, lovely chap, lives in Devon now.
There’s no place like home.
