Er… within minutes of my posting this morning, that critical wicket fell and I was proved to be the ignoramus I admitted being in my original posting.

I can only say that England tried a lot harder this morning than they were doing last night.

But it is an incredible thought that having beaten this bogey of no win against the aussies at Lords since 1934, it is worth mentioning that my grandpa who had been to the relief of Khartoum in the 1870s, may well have watched the match in 1934 and will certainly have read about it.

Anyway, collapse of stout party I’m off to nurse my credibility and my wounds.

For what it is worth, and it is worth very little, I think the Aussies are going to win the Lords test today.

They will get the remaining 200 runs with one wicket to spare, and I say this after watching them for the two hours before bad light stopped play last night and watching most of Saturday too.

I was the beneficiary of a ticket from a friend who is on the MCC committee. Not my normal hunting ground – I am an indifferent left-handed opener, a poor bowler and slow in the field. I haven’t watched cricket in the flesh seriously since Dexter was at the crease.

But there was something beguiling about being at Lords both days. Despite what I could call two worthy but less than tip top teams, it is a great contest and there are flashes of great skill on both sides.

I don’t think England has the bowlers to get them out and Australia has the wickets and the time to make a go of getting 200 in a day. So if you are a betting woman or man – go for it and send me a quid if you win. My only caveat is if it rains a lot.

The anthropology of Lords is amazing. I found myself at one point wedged between two Goldman Sachs big shots, and on another between Stuart Wheeler, spread better extraordinaire (erstwhile Tory funder) and Nigel Farage, the leader of UKIP (now funded by Wheeler).

Actually the latter were more interested in the golf upon which, needless to say, they had laid exceptionally complex spread bets.

But the highlight was to find Courtney Walsh (credited with being the West Indian fast bowler, who bowled faster for longer than any cricketer in history) sitting on my jacket on the seat in front of me and the amazing Neil Harvey (who played for Australia from 1948 to 1963) sitting on my right.

Harvey was quite simply one of those dark handsome boy’s own heroes and was the first Australian cricketer to enter my boyhood cricketing interest.

A sweet old man now, but still sharp as a whistle. “Why are those buggers bowling the off spinner up the slope?” he asked me. I peered at the ground from my vantage point in the grand stand. I clearly hadn’t had enough champers, I could detect no slope.