Earlier this month, I wrote a piece about the current state of the official sport of my heart, Cricket. Unless you have just arrived on Earth on a tourist visa from Mars, you would have heard that things are not going so well with this once-beautiful game. Intrigued? Then please read on... 

The article was published, in it's entirety, in a very respectable publication called The National for which my very respectable friend (and fantastic sports writer) CB currently works. It would be great if you could take a few minutes to visit the site by clicking here and reading. If you feel the sudden and uncontrollable urge to leave a comment, that would be great too. 

A big shout-out to the many people around the world who have already read and shared, tweeted, e-mailed, facebooked, googleplussed, pinterested, and whatever else the kids are doing these days. 

On a more serious note, thank you. It means a lot. Hopefully this will be just the start, with many more to come.

Just over four years ago, I wrote this post as part of a longer reflection on life in general. What I didn't/couldn't know at the time is that I was writing about this May, and this June. (I have to be careful, I've started to quote myself...) 

"In May, I may get the call I've been waiting for. In May, I may be spontaneous, and renew my old friendship with impulse. In May, I may stop kidding myself, take off my rose-tinted glasses and squint at the blindingly obvious. In May, I may wake in one city and go to sleep in another. All these things may happen in May. But even if they don't, at least it will soon be June." 

As someone once said, life can be lived only forwards, but understood only backwards. And so we head into July, with a strange feeling that's perilously close to being contentment.

PB strikes back!

When I was little, like most boys I wished I had my own secret superpower. Mine would be the ability to create fire; that most beautiful and unpredictable of all the elements. I wished I could summon it at will, have it dance at the tips of my fingers or spin like a glowing top between cupped palms. I even had a name for myself- FlameBoy. 

In my childish naivete, I thought the power of spontaneous combustion was the one I could use most efficiently to save the world, while looking indescribably cool (or hot) while doing it. (Excuse me, Sir, do you have a light? Yes, ma'am, here you are- whoosh! O my God, it's FlameBoy! *swoon*) 

Obviously, things didn't really work out that way, and FlameBoy was ultimately destined to exist only in my imagination. Until today. 

Nevermind that the FlameBoy of my dreams was meant to live forever, while this morning I woke up feeling the full force of my own mortality.The fact remains that today I have come the closest I have ever been to realising that wish I first wished so long ago. 

Today, I am PhlegmBoy.

PS: Like all my previous colds, this one too appears to be life-threatening. Your support is appreciated at this difficult time. Thank you.