quack

After endless revision sessions, watching of the Ashes, and pop quizzing over email... it appears that I have in fact passed the ECB level one umpiring course, a qualification I sincerely plan on framing and having alongside my UCL clinical doctorate and Harvard University memorabilia. I think it may well have been harder to acheive than either of them.

So, after much advice from Caterham school of cricket, and sensible discussions with those in the know, I have booked to attend all Nets sessions at the Oval to suitably train my cricket eye, and to ensure we don't have any over zealous trigger fingers on the mountain.

Nets sessions in my mind also provide an opportunity for team bonding, and lets be frank, umpire bribery. I had high hopes of being quietly offered to have my pack carried, or lent expensive down jackets, or hot tea waiting every night, all in the hope of a favourable view on questionable LBW decisions. But I'm not sure Tenzing have shared my vision.

Had you been out and about tonight, you might have noticed a light drizzle in the air. A hint of spring dampness. Undaunted, for we will reach new heights in our test above the rest, I was dedicated to attend the Nets session. A mere 5 mile cycle from my work, and with my new prized and over-priced waterproofs nothing but biblical floods were likely to stop me.

Of course, it probably might have been a good idea to put my waterproofs in my cycle pannier the second I bought them. Rather than leaving them safe in the bottom of my ruck sack, leaving me with nothing more showerproof than my day glo high vis tabard designed for a builder four times my size.

5 miles later it might be fair to say I could have been more dry, but I was excited to attend the net session, and having fought my way through the maze of tunnels that leads to the Oval nets, I confidently looked on the booking board and could see no mention of Everest, Tenzing, Haydn, or any other indication that would suggest the guys were here. Undaunted I fought my way past a dozen four foot school children (I looked carefully, none of them were Tooves), and found team Tenzing, unhappily preparing for Nets.

Which had not been booked.

So that is to say, not preparing at all. Getting their kit back together to head off. On the plus side I did get the opportunity to hear Tooves fit 16 swear words and references to 'your mother' in a single sentence. But there was no cricket to be had. So it was back to the bike.

Now its probably fair to say I'm not the best cycler at the best of times. But this time I was veering into traffic because the winds were literally picking up the bike and throwing me into traffic. And did I mention it was raining?

And when I say raining what I mean is 'God in his infinite wisdom elected to distribute the rain scheduled for the month of March on the road between Kennington and Streatham between the hours of 9 and 10 this evening'. I had to swerve to avoid a frog happily playing in the puddles, and I couldn't see so many potholes I bashed my bike to tiny pieces. I'll be amazed if it gets me to work in the morning.

So, not the best start in terms of getting to know the team. At the current time I remain unaware of which member of tenzing was supposed to book the nets, but as I sit here waiting for my laptop to thaw out my legs, and with sodden kit drying out all over my house, it occurs to me that they might want to pray that I am not bowlers end Ump when there is a hefty appeal for LBW on their very first ball.