The Ploughmen travelled north of the river to Highgate’s Ferme Park, home to more tennis courts than anyone asked for and a few cricket pitches, one of which we were generously allocated. Our strip came complete with blackberry bushes for rope, trees at cow corner, and a slope steep enough to send both cricket balls and fielders on unexpected expeditions.

The Strollers won the toss and, with suspicious glee, sent us in to bat. Alex “Cake” Jullienne and Hisham opened against a sharp right-left bowling combo. Runs came slowly, then faster, as Alex warmed up and started finding the boundary. Hisham, busy rotating strike and wrestling with his rebellious pads, made 18 before nicking off.

Alex pressed on, joined first by Aman Jain (making a feisty 37 off 20) and then by skipper Max. Alex brought up a cracking 50 and looked nailed on for a ton, but cruelly perished on 88, bowled. Callum followed shortly for 1, prompting us to wonder aloud just how many decent bowlers a Sunday opposition is legally allowed.

Max (35) and Ajay (27) rebuilt nicely before the wheels wobbled again. Lewys, still recovering from the night before, lasted one ball. The tail wagged politely, Ean, Oli and Mo chipped in, and we finished on a respectable 252 — not bad against bowlers who were clearly moonlighting from higher divisions.

Then came the teas. Or rather, didn’t. The clubhouse promised hot food but delivered only heartbreak. Oli gave up after a 40-minute wait and settled for a banana, Callum managed a katsu curry, and Lewys tucked into Ajay’s homemade wraps, hoping egg and cheese could undo the sins of Saturday night. Spoiler: it couldn’t.

With stomachs semi-lined, we took the field. Callum, fuelled by curry, struck first over — George nicked to Max at gully. A dream start. At the other end, poor Oli leaked 18 from his first over, beginning the day’s curious pattern: one miserly over, one that resembled a free net session. A cricketing rollercoaster, minus the seatbelts.

Aman chipped in, Max rolled back the years with two wickets (including a peach of an off-break), and CD was unplayable in patches, finishing with 3 for 57. But the Strollers’ batting line-up was deep, stubborn, and annoyingly good. They kept nudging along just above the rate, leaving our nerves frayed.

James entered the attack to groans from the clubhouse after Callum gleefully introduced him as “James Anderson.” Sadly, the batters treated him accordingly, peppering him to the fence. Mo Khan, however, found his rhythm, mixing mystery with mischief to bag two key wickets. The Strollers slipped to 239 for 9, 14 runs needed from the final over.

Enter “Jimmy” Anderson again, ball in hand, hearts in mouths. First ball went for 4. Then singles. Then… timber! Clean bowled. Strollers all out. Ploughmen win by 7 runs. Relief, euphoria, and immediate talk of beers.

As always, the post-match debates were as lively as the cricket: bed sizes for marital harmony, NHS politics, and other subjects best left unrecorded. But what mattered was the win, the laughter, and Hisham’s pad still lying somewhere near cow corner.

Final verdict: a cracking day, a proper contest, and Ploughmen on top. GO PLOUGH!