I’m sure my readership will be dying to know that despite my protests that I would retire after the last swing of the bat from last season, when I despatched a slow half-tracker for six at Dulwich College against some law firm or other, it being an apt way to finish on the eve of my fifth decade of life, I was cajoled by duty to turn out for the work team again on 18 June at the ground of the bank of our former colony in the Far East and its large Chinese neighbour, against a french banking outfit.

Work commitments meant that I could make only the second innings of the game, and as we fielded first, I took on the role of “Designated Hitter” (not fielding, but batting) – perfect for a man of my ample size. I batted at five, was dropped twice – once in the slips off a full face of the bat shot I hit a bit too fine, the other a diddly caught and bowled – but managed to breathe long enough to make it to 26 and to walk off undefeated with, I think, just the two boundaries but with morale intact.

Our side lost. I got my runs and said I’m retiring again.