The perils of late night cricket

I tuned in dutifully for the Boxing Day test only to be greeted by news of a most un-Australian delay in starting the game. The commentators' efforts to kill time before the first ball could be bowled were painful to watch. Thereafter, it was a much more straightforward turn of events: the early wicket, the fightback, the patience of the South Africans. But towards the later part of the day, I missed most of the action, as I fell victim to that deadly affliction: the doze; brought on by overconsumption of both food and drink. I'd been snacking all day, polishing off Christmas-Eve Dinner leftovers and some nice wine I'd discovered on the weekend. As the night wore on, and as I gamely hung in, the eyelids grew heavier. Suddenly, I was woken up by a sharp spike in the volume from my PC speakers. A wicket had fallen. This would be repeated several times over the next hour as Australia collapsed, and so did I. (RSA still need two wickets and I wouldn't start celebrating yet if I were a South African fan).

Finally, my frustration at missing the wickets at these strategic points - thanks to my body refusing to co-operate - finally got to me, and I wearily turned down the volume, switched off the lights in the living-room, and retired to bed. I'll eat a little less tomorrow. I do miss the days when I could pull off all-nighters like these so easily (I never managed to do it for exams).