Good King Glenn McGrath looked out
On the Feast of Stephen
Where the pitch lay round about
Just a bit uneven
Brightly shone Shane Warne that night
Though the Poms were cruel
Then A Flintoff came in sight
Batting like a foo-oo-el.

Adara and I returned last night from three days in Newcastle visiting her grandmother and having the time of her life playing with some of her second cousins. She is now the proud owner of surely the bulk of the Dora the Explorer merchandise catalogue. If you or your superannuation fund holds a stake in Viacom, think of us next time you receive a share dividend.

This morning was a celebration of the real reason for Christmas, namely the commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ. Lessons and carols at All Saints this morning. Wonderful stuff.

Adara and Di head to Adelaide tonight for Christmas week with their relatives. My family engagements are complete, and I am exhausted. Time for bloggage-as-therapy before the Obligatory Christmas Afternoon Nap. Currently listening to John Fahey's rendition of some Christmas music being played on WNYC-FM from New York.

Well I'll be.

I really thought he was going to stay on for the 2009 Ashes. What we will now see is a SCG dead-rubber which plays second fiddle to Warnie's swan-song in the manner of Steve Waugh 2004.

Here's the SMH report broken just a few minutes ago.

I wonder if Cricket Australia will give him a gold watch, or maybe a gold mobile phone...

"What depresses me most is not the fact that England lose in Australia, but that they're laying down and dying."

These were the words of Ray Illingworth yesterday, one of the many who have tried and failed the seemingly impossible task of elevating England to a competitive cricketing nation.