Dragging oneself from the televised delights of Sophia Gardens has been somewhat of a wrench. The Hundred is a strange concoction to say the least of it. Five-ball overs? The option to take a ten-ball over if you feel like it? Outré prefabricated franchises? Yet it is still recognisably cricket, and the best female players in the world are all here. And there is nothing artificial about Tân Cymreig, or the Welsh Fire as some would have it. Hir Oes i Forgannwg! Even though they are captained by Georgia Wareham, better-known as an Antipodean leg-spinner, and feature the blazing bat of Georgia Voll at the top of the order. But the main attraction of the Hundred is listening to the glorious Swansea vowels of Robert Croft, like unto stewed peaches soaked in apricot wine. I could listen to him all night.
But back to Darwin, which is marginally cooler than Cardiff. The humidity is something else, sometimes compared to scuba-diving in an ashtray. To our shame, we have not played a Test match against Bangla Desh for nine years. Longer since we hosted them. Australia will not have to endure the terrifying pace of Nahid Rana, who is injured. Taskin Ahmed and Shoriful Islam were once fast bowlers, although persistent niggles have abated their ferocity of late. Spin will be their best chance of wickets, one imagines. For Australia, Dad’s Army will front up once more. The bowlers have been extensively rested from the white-ball circus of late, and rightly so. Never has Australia fielded an attack so blessed in years. Would you bet against them nonetheless? Not I.