It was a beautiful evening, yesterday, at Sloths’ KES HQ. Hard to imagine that, only four nights previously, we had been struggling to see the pink ball in gathering gloom, down in Devon. The skies were clear but there was moisture about, meaning the bowlers could enjoy plenty of movement through the air. This, coupled with somewhat uneven bounce, made for some surprisingly tricky batting.

The visitors may have also been surprised at the youthful pace of the not-entirely-youthful home team’s line-up. Pick of the crop, for me, was Fresh. Back from tour, he was able – after a little on-field coaching from Ric – to re-establish recent form. Twice, he beat batsmen that were shaping to drive to leg, only to find the ball careering onto middle and off.

Frith H also asked some searching questions. As did Hewes – though, largely of the inexperienced Bond Jnr, behind the stumps. Cam looked the part and dealt with the usual breadth and variety of Sloth bowling with calm assurance. Until the ball was nicked. But nobody can really blame him. Madeye, too, put down a chance at short mid-off but, frankly, nobody expected him to reach, let alone catch, the ball.

The visitors never really looked like getting away and only managed a total of 98 from their allotted 20 overs. So, everyone was looking forward to an early finish and extra time at the al-fresco bar. But this was not to be.

Frith and Fresh both looked assured at the crease but didn’t quite time the ball well enough to spread the field. Both did reach 25, though not as quickly as they may have liked. However, Sloths’ number 3 specialist – ‘Leftie’ Hewes – then came in to take charge of the situation.

The word ‘phlegmatic’ was used, on the boundary, to describe this individual. I’ve looked it up and, apparently, it means: ‘Having or suggesting a calm, sluggish temperament; unemotional or apathetic’. Can’t argue with that, really. Except the ‘sluggish’ bit. And the ‘apathetic’ bit. Not quite sure about ‘unemotional’, really. But it’s a nice word all the same.

In any case, Rick was soon back at the pavilion, having knocked-off a speedy 25 and ensuring the requisite 99 runs would be reached in time for a couple of cold beers. Lazarus and Flash Harry delivered the final blows, looking for the big-hit at every opportunity and occasionally finding it.

But the real drama was on the boundary. Tension filled the air as Cunliffe’s dad menacingly asked the vicar to talk him through his son’s run out. And an unusual new phenomenon was observed, in the gentle – yet persistent – sledging of scorer Harding by a certain chap named Bez.

So:

• Is it acceptable to storm-off, if persistently placed number 11 in the batting?
• Is it acceptable for the visitors to polish-off the entire stock of Thatchers Haze?
• Is it acceptable to harangue a vicar over his on-field conduct?
• Do we need to install Bez as substitute Northerner, in Stump and Big Mac’s absence?

Answers, please, on a Rizler and placed in Stumpchat’s kit bag.

Clare Fallon, North of England correspondent, Slothful Times