As the Brittomobile begins its 2-hour voyage to an anonymous field near Reigate, a small group of Plough dissect a range of topics. We agree the salvation of Test cricket lies in 4-day tests. I eat all the dried mango in the back of the car; Steve is really annoyed, and I nearly end up walking the rest of the way. Puff recounts the story of he and Niraj stumbling back to his gaff one night, with strict instructions not to awaken Mrs Paul. Things are bumped into, sleeping wives are woken. The inevitable verbal bollocking is delivered – but not to its intended target (who is tactically asleep in Rohan’s room), but rather to a surprised and presumably terrified Niraj, frozen in the foetal position like a trapped vole. He may not be back at Puff HQ for some time.

Eventually we arrive at the anonymous field – a beautiful countryside picture of green expanse, arcing trees and the faint smell of shit in place of city fumes. Captain Britto loses the toss and the Plough are batting on what looks a classic country green boi, bereft of any bounce or pace. Who’d want to open the batting on this green turd?

Out stride openers Ainslie and Hockings who proceed to bat extremely well on what ends up being a pretty flat one (what DO we actually know about cricket?). Both batters combine wonderfully with rotation of strike, classic stroke-play and brutal dispatching of anything loose. Ainslie falls for a very well-made 56, but the man of the day is Jo Hockings who is eventually bowled for a thrilling and faultless 135 off 110. I don’t think I’ve seen him bat better or with more application – such that by the end of his innings, rigor mortis had all but set in. Well batted Hocko!

Britto chips in with a typically punchy 37 off 25, supported by some good swingin’ from Stanley, Jahangir and Nathan Johns. I had the pleasure of meeting our new Irishman Nathan that day and BOY did he look good for his brief stint at the crease. Apparently he’s a really good bowler too. There’s a fantasy pick for ya.

Having been put in, the 2s finish on 275 for 6 which feels like a biggy.

No teas, no worries – Puff has procured a mammoth fish and chips (where from I have no idea, we were honestly in the middle of nowhere). The team descend like a pack of Brighton seagulls. Steve doesn’t get any. I nearly make a sarcy comment, something really pathetic like ‘get a few chips didn’t ya?’. I bite it down. I’m not walking 30 miles back to London.

Fish and chips deleted, we take to the field. A firm and necessary team talk from Steve – let’s work hard here boys, league mindset, hit our straps, game to bloody win.

Jahangir and Puff open up – a terrifying combo of robotic seam and rapid mystery spin – and bowl tightly, the Graveney openers having none of it. Viberg and myself pick up the reigns and bowl well but occasionally too loose, some full tosses duly punished to the boundary. Things get a bit frustrating as opportunities are created and missed, the openers taking advantage of their luck and moving the score along. Viberg sees this cricketing injustice and, like a beaver frowning at free-flowing water, thinks ‘not on my watch, son’. A peach of a delivery sneaks through the opener’s defence and rocks back off-stump. A deep Viking bellow echoes around the Surrey hills. Local bird watchers swear as they spill hot tea on their trousers. I feel tingly at extra cover. Niraj potentially feels frightened. Graveney CC certainly are.

From there, the Plough’s bowling and fielding improves – spearheaded by a fine spell of bowling from Niraj that pins the middle order back. He finishes with figures of 3-40 off 7 overs, continuing his superb season with the ball – bowling Nicky!

A scatty counterpunch from the Graveney skipper prolongs the innings, including everyone’s favourite – batters that ask whether a legal delivery should have been a wide. For some reason myself and Hockings are particularly triggered by this. Between us, we cordially suggest the opposition skipper focuses on the fact he is not batting very well, that his team are 100 runs adrift, and that we have installed umpires for the specific task of judging wide deliveries. Hockings says something I don’t quite hear. The game moves on and Jo resumes his impression of a cardboard cutout with rigor mortis at backward point.

By the end, Graveney limped their way to 214 for 5, 58 runs short of the target. There is a mixed feeling in the 2s camp. We know it wasn’t our finest performance in the field, but none of that detracts from celebrating a fantastic batting effort from the top order, especially Hockings who is contemplating life after remembering he signed up to a double-header.

Victory secured. Runs plundered. Wickets taken. Plough On.

Match report from Elmo