A batsman goes out and is then in until he gets out. This goes on until the last batsman is out, apart from one who is still in and therefore not out.

What is it with this American booty culture? It seems to me to be a form of obsession.

Whatever form it takes, camping is earthy, soul enriching and character building, and there can be few such satisfying moments as having your tent pitched and the smoke rising from your campfire as the golden sun sets on the horizon--even if it's just for a fleeting moment before the rain spoils everything.

A batsman goes out and is then in until he gets out. This goes on until the last batsman is out, apart from one who is still in and therefore not out.

Why not collect and clean chicken wishbones in the run-up to Christmas, spray them silver and use each to pinch together a white hem-stitch napkin?

It's a bit startling to achieve global recognition before the age of 30, on account of your sister, brother in law and your bottom.

My father has developed a tradition of surprising us at some point by appearing in fancy dress. He buys a new costume each year and typically gets carried away. A couple of Christmases ago he appeared in an inflatable sumo outfit. Its endearing, really, and only quite embarrassing.