Waiting to bet

The cafe. The veteran phones me and the kid and says he wants to discuss the defeat by Holland. Remember he starts life in Yorkshire, he is as keen on saving a penny as anyone in history and he makes two phone calls. Wow.

"We thought we would use these chats to work out who is going to win the Ashes, maybe have a little bet, you put it all on line," he says pointing to me. "But losing to Holland - at Lord's - changes everything. This England will not beat any Australian side, no matter who they send home."

"It's not that bad," I say. "In the Ashes Wright, Shah, Morgan, the Irish lad with the Welsh name, Fletcher and Rashid will not be playing and the England team will not be surrounded by people telling them the matches don't matter. Flintoff and KP may be back and I hope the whole nation will be up for it. And Collingwood will not be captain. I am his greatest admirer but he is not a captain."

"He's all right, is Colly." The voice of youthful ignorance. "He makes a big hundred against us at the Riverside and never puts a foot wrong. I say so to him that night and he keeps buying my beer. All night. He's a great man."

"Proper use of captain's expenses," says the veteran. "Make many next day?"

"I had a hangover, didn't I," says the youth. "Colly greets me at the wicket, asks how I am, I say a bit rough, he takes the next over and, well, I didn't know he could bowl that quick."

"I suppose you will learn - one day," says the old guy. "He is a hero but the selectors will have to take him aside and explain. Sorry, son, you are not a captain."

"I don't know why they got rid of KP," I say.

The kid goes: "He's all right is KP. He tells me that when we play against Hampshire I have to bully that Demitri Mascharanas. Go straight after him, KP says. What do you reckon?"

The waitress brings the kid's tea latte. It looks revolting. The kid drinks it and says to her: "Go on then. You've usually got something to say. What do you reckon."

"Me?" she goes. "Me? All I know is that with your talent and half the brains in a pork pie you could be the new Don Bradman. And by the way before you old 'uns start putting your pension money on England, just have a word with me and I might give you the benefit of my wisdom. All right?"

"You know nothing about this game," we say in chorus. But I am listening, just 31 days before the Ashes ignite.