A shocker awaits

Just a few hours to go but my rich friends have been busy. "We've kept you a seat," says one text. So have I. My sofa opposite the world's biggest TV set and next to the DAB radio on which to hear the intelligent commentary of the radio chaps Agnew, Marks and the rest describing what I am about to see one second later. You know about all that satellite delay, don't you. I shall have coffee when needed, a hard frost outside and the company of my favourite stats lady who promises to provide us with one delicious fact a day for the duration of the Ashes. You can read my commentary soon after close of play - if I stay awake. And don't worry. The new rich will read this paragraph and pass the ticket on. The seat will not be wasted, either in the middle of the Fens or in the middle of the Gabba. In 24 hours, by the way, you can read my assessment of the five Tests and unless I have a major change of mind you may received a shock.

How many?

SEVENTEEN in the Australian Test squad! SEVENTEEN! And one of the ex-Test men said at 4.30am GMT that any of the Australia A team might ALSO by included. Perhaps a squad of TWENTY in total. Maybe more? Any youngish Aussie with his own whites? Ricky Ponting could spend more time telling players they are not wanted than setting the field. Watch it, Straussy, you may have the better side but you are going to be seriously outnumbered.

No kidding!

Greg, the young Aussie, leads the Ashes Five off to Hobart for the final match before the first Test, 30 degrees Celcius cooler north in Brisbane. Four of the England party don't make the trip so they can get used to the Brisbane heat. Kate texts: "God is it bloody cold. Even the one horse is shivering. Greg keeps going on at me to sleep with him and if it gets two degrees cooler I'll have to give in. Ooops, sorry, I have given in. Bloody hell that was quick! Where is young Bobby when a girl needs a knight in shining armour. Oh, well,at least no Aussie can get me pregnant." Bobby is the young cricketer who tags along when he can't get an overseas gig for the winter. Nice girl Kate and you are never sure when she is kidding.

Jimmy riddle

We are worried about Jimmy Anderson. Now that Paul Collingwood - good old reliable Colly, stout heart, hero of the last Ashes Test at Adelaide and all round good fella - has made a few runs it is clear that the team that is playing against South Australia must play in the first Test, 15 days hence. Except for Jimmy, victim of a nasty blow to the ribs, behind with his training, his match fitness and all his other preparations, and, who knows, not ready for five days in the Brisbane sun. So let us be prepared for him to sit it out and - perhaps - Tim Bresnan to fill in, just for one Test. If Steven Finn is a success - and I expect him to be - Anderson may have to sit out at least one other Test so that Monty Panesar, the weapon Shane Warne thinks ought to be sitting at home in Northamptonshire, staring at his navel, can strike fear into the Aussies.

Strauss the hero

England win their first match against Western Australia mainly due to a century from Andrew Strauss. His batting will be a key to the series as Alistair Cook has had two poor innings and the predictions that Kevin Pietersen will come good one day soon are proving to be half true at best. I am expecting a lot from Jonathon Trott too.

Meanwhile, four hours flying time away in Brisbane, life is proceeding in the way you might expect. Other tourists are finding that the Aussie dollar rate for the pound sterling is making food and, not least of all, drink expensive. Not for our merry Lotto lunatics. They have gone over to single word texts. So far I have had two "WILD!", one "You Must Join Us Pronto" and today "Ouch, me ead urts." Regular updates on this blog or, if their previous form is anything to go by, reports from the nearest magistrates court.

Decision time

That settles it. The gang are willing to pay for me and the missus to travel out to Oz and find us a nice hotel but I reckon it will be better for me to stay here, sit up all night and watch on my lovely large TV with coffee and the wind howling in the trees. I will get the gang to text their impressions and the bizarre details and I will write, say, 400 words three times a day from each Test. All I have to do is find them an exciting bet - they don't need the money do they - and I am working on that, I don't regret my decision to stay at home. Australia has changed since 1982 when I first dropped into Sydney airport, had a fine old row with two Customs ladies (I'm being generous here you understand) and arrived in Brisbane several hours late. Much more authoritarian, much less fun, more controlled, less "She'll be apples" which was their way of saying "don't worry" and too obviously peopled not just by the descendants of convicts but by the great, great grandchildren of policemen and prison warders. Pity. I used to love every trip but in the end Melbourne reminds you of Manchester, Adelaide is cute like Aberdeen but hotter and even vibrant, exciting old Sydney goes a murky grey.

The Lotto party

My friends could not possibly keep their secret to themselves for long. After several emails, texts, SMSs and the like - going "Ha bloody Ha" and "U just don't no do u" - they finally front up. "As it is your birthday," says their first honest message - " we'd better tell you what is going on." They claim to be in the "only eight star hotel in the southern hemisphere" and living on champagne and dangerous chemicals. How come this change in lifestyle for a bunch who would certainly have struggled to keep their rust bucket car in petrol if they had stuck to the original plan and driven Nottingham to Sydney. "Kate's cousin who is not on her Christmas card list after he fails her dramatically one long evening of drink and all the rest is one of an extended family who win that big prize on the Euro Lotto and her lets her have a tiny bit as part of his divi up and she asks for more and says 'you are on a permanent promise' and he sends along a few bobs. So the four of us - Kate, the lad, the vet and the other waitress known as Busty - fly here first class, book into this nice, highly-recommended hotel and party." And finally "Send us your tip for a good bet and we will put a few bobs on for you as well as us." I am thinking about it.