The 500th edition of Pointless was screened yesterday and at times at North Marine Road, especially before lunch, it felt as though the 501st was already being filmed. In mid afternoon it was hard to say where the game was going: the run rate was turgid at just over two and half per over and the 'just over' was largely thanks to a few gifts from Pyrah to Mullaney, and although any support for Gale's decision to field first, which had been quite high when the hapless Hales had been dismissed in the sea fret on Wednesday had long been forgotten, the faithful's more critical remarks were being aimed at the visitors.
Surely they will declare at tea became surely they will declare just after tea but both proved false prophecies and with Franks and Fletcher following Mullaney's example Notts finally were bowled out for 443 off 153 overs less one ball, still not quite three an over. Chief culprit amongst the Notts' batsmen was 'England prospect' James Taylor who, whatever Carole King might think, had few friends among the sun roasted crowd as he laboured to 38 off 148 balls, two of which he hit for four. Such was the delight when the persistent Patterson had him lbw that lunch was taken a couple of minutes early. Rarely has lobster tasted better for the morning session had been Yorkshire's with Lumb and Patel having proceeded Taylor back to the dressing room.
Alas that was about the height of it for as my friend John Gawthrope drove us home via some of Yorkshire's finest countryside with early summer colours at their best a horror story was unfolding the plot for which had once or twice crossed my mind during the day, namely that Yorkshire after two days in the field would face an awkward half hour's batting and lose one/two wickets, delete as appropriate. Most readers will know that sadly I had not anticipated the full extent of the horror and that Yorkshire will resume this morning still 414 behind with seven (sic) first innings wickets left and praying for the return of the sea fret. Alas Mr Hudson and Ms Gallagher can offer no hope on the weather front and at three an over it will be lunch time tomorrow before the white rose gets its nose in front and at least two Yorkshire batsmen will have to play major innings.
As I walked from the ground to the station on Wednesday evening I noticed that most of the guesthouses in the vicinity were displaying the 'No Vacancies' side of the card they hang in their windows. A poor batting display today and by teatime many of those may have been reversed. Wednesday's harr* may have turned to Friday's aargh.
* a cold sea mist commonly referred to as a sea fret in Yorkshire.
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