Since I seem to be ticking off the increments of 10000, that's 50000 words out of the way.
It was the last evening league cricket match of the season yesterday, and an utter farce. We played it more or less as a friendly, but took it too far, reversing the batting order and opening with part time bowlers. I batted, getting probably 15 runs, but didn't bowl. My brother, who ended up batting 10 out of 11 and didn't bowl, was understandably furious, particularly when the opposition took it a fraction more seriously and won. It just goes to show that in cricket, as in so much in life, having fun is one thing, not giving what you're doing the respect it deserves quite another.
My final bowling aggregate for the season then: 8 overs, 7 wickets for 59 runs for a final average of just over 8.43 at a strike rate of 6.86 deliveries per wicket. If the opposition weren't so awful, this would be very good indeed.
I'm still reading Wicked which seems to be one of those books to read in short bursts. At least, it's very fragmented. Also, it seems to bog down a little in the second half.