Does anyone know how I can get the medley of Jerusalem, Rule Britannia and Land of Hope and Glory out of my head? It must have been played a few times a day, every day, during this series. Yesterday it was on repeat as soon as Michael Hussey got out. And today it won’t leave my mind. What does “weave thy diadem” mean? That’s more confusing than Australia’s selections. Please, make the music stop. Losing the Ashes is nothing compared to this.

While it wasn’t such fun to watch the run-outs or the collapse at the end, it was special to feel the emotion of a crowd that likes nothing better than thumping Australia. The series was gripping throughout even though the teams were not that great, but the Ashes still remains the most special contest in cricket – at least to two countries.

Wound down at a dinner with some very polite and distinguished England fans. None of them teased. Most of them will be back in Australia in 18 months, so must remember to match their manners when we’re at the SCG in the first week of 2011.

An amazing thing happened on the way home last night. People who hadn’t been at The Oval were talking about the cricket. As they went to their parties in Hackney and the nightclubs of Camden they were asking questions of friends and strangers on the Tube. “What’s the score?” “England are winning.” “Australia will find a way to draw this.” “How could Ponting not pick a spinner?” One guy had watched it all day at home, others had relied on the radio or internet for updates.

In my experience, this sort of public transport chit-chat is usually limited to those heading home in team colours or with ticket badges hanging from their jackets. Call it fickle or joining the bandwagon, but as a long-term watcher it was great to hear the more “normal” people being interested in a Test. Maybe it will last a day, or another 466 runs, or perhaps it will help make the game a lasting favourite here, regardless of whether England win or lose in the future.

By the way, the Australians prayers for rain haven’t been answered. It’s beautifully sunny in south London and the only white marks in the sky are the trails from the planes heading in and out of Heathrow.

The Tubes heading south on the Northern Line are crammed full of excitement and there’s a queue from Oval station to the ground. There must be something exciting happening. Oh, that’s right, England are about to win the Ashes. They like cricket again here.

Still, most of the locals remain pessimistic. Excited, but horribly nervous. Adelaide 2006-07 has been mentioned a couple of times by supporters this morning. Stuart Broad was cautious talking last night and the papers haven’t claimed the win. In Australia they have reported the loss.

The reality is if England get another 100 runs today they will be safe. How the series has swung. Not the best time to be an Australian over here. Fortunately we’re off to Scotland on Wednesday.

Lord’s has a resident cat and now The Oval is home to a fox. Not Graeme ‘Foxy’ Fowler, the former England, Lancashire and Durham batsman, but a living Basil Brush who popped in to check on the field after stumps on the opening day. It’s basically impossible to get on the playing surface unless you are wearing the fluorescent green vests of the security staff - unless you’re a fox.

With the covers on, the animal trotted out to guard the square and lay down near the practice pitches. The security men spotted the animal and let him be. Apparently he visited early in the morning as well. The Oval is almost in the centre of London so spotting any animal that is not a pigeon is rare, although some quick brown foxes have somehow managed to retain a presence in the suburbs.

There were a few groans around England training today but not enough pain for them to turn into legitimate injury scares. Well, not yet, anyway. First to go down was the timid looking, tough talking Stuart Broad, who tumbled awkwardly while taking a catch during fielding practice. He was helped up with a sore side and later bowled in the nets, looking more puffed than hurt when he walked up the pavilion steps at the end of the session.

The Oval was a noisy place but even all the pre-match construction and mowing was usurped when Paul Collingwood shouted the scream either of a batsman who had got out to a truly ridiculous shot or a person in serious pain. Collingwood was taking slip catches when one clipped a sore finger on his left hand and prompted the yell. He took a couple more before calling off the drill and walking away analysing the digit, but there were no anxious group huddles like there have been before the toss in the previous two Tests. Things were much quieter in the Australian camp.

Hambledon Cricket Club “circa 1750”, according to the club signs, is a couple of miles from the rural Hampshire village and a bit tricky to find, mainly because the directions tend to come at the turn-off and we’re too busy avoiding the on-coming traffic to notice. Sadly, there’s no game on the dome-shaped field when we arrive and the clubhouse windows are boarded off, preventing a peek at any historic memorabilia from an area which has had a significant impact on the modern game. Or so I thought.

A pint at The Bat and Ball Inn was also on the to-do list but we couldn’t find it along the narrow lanes, even though everyone says it’s right beside the ground. No reason to feel suspicious: we were miles from nowhere and there was a cricket club there called Hambledon. It couldn’t be anywhere else, could it? A day after the trip I learn there are two clubs in Hambledon and we’ve picked the wrong one. (Please don’t tell my wife, the driver, about this. She didn’t even want to go to this ground.)

Back in the 18th century the original club was a mix of well-off locals and rich visitors, and its legacy was a hefty contribution to the game’s rules. A straight bat was developed here to replace the curled ones, the width of the bat was restricted to four-and-a-quarter inches and soon they were calling for a third stump to sit in the middle. What their modern team-mates don’t do is give prominent directions to their ground.

There were four of us in the car and nobody spotted the historic site, unlike the Romsey Abbey and Winchester Cathedral, stubborn and spectacular buildings which dominate their towns in beautiful parts of the county. On the way there was a morning with Thomas the Tank Engine and some of his friends. We called it a training session.

I first started looking for Albert Trott’s grave in 2001. I’d read a story about Trott, the Test player from the late 1800s, by the Age’s Peter Hanlon and learned he was buried in Willesden, a suburb just up the road from where I lived during my three years in London.

Trott interested me for a few reasons: he played for both Australia and England, hit a six over the pavilion at Lord’s, and killed himself, aged 41, due to ill health. He seemed like a pretty interesting guy, so during spare hours I went searching for him. I didn’t find him, but kept finding out about him.

David Frith wrote about Trott in his book By His Own Hand and the name comes up regularly in historical accounts of the game. His player profile contains many of his deeds, ranging from the unmatched to the freaky. He would have been incredible to watch in any team or era.

Having gone to a few gravesites in Willesden previously, I tried another venue on this trip: Paddington Cemetery in Willesden Lane, just down from where Trott died in Denbigh Street. Hanlon’s story gave the only tips. “A simple, white headstone – ‘A.E.Trott 1873-1914, a great cricketer, Australia, Middlesex, England.’” For 80 years the grave was unmarked, but the county eventually put up a reminder for their former player.

Paddington Cemetery a beautiful place to rest, there’s a slight hill, an old chapel and gravestones both modern and crumbling. For this assignment I took my daughter and an English friend for help, but none of us could spot the headstone. There were memorials for doctors and chemists and parents of big families and new babies, but not one (that we could see) for a former Test cricketer.

All of us have looked for things before and not found them, and it may not even be the correct venue for Trott-spotting. Oh well. The search, which is increasingly enjoyable, failed again. It will re-start in 2013.

Day trips are almost impossible on tour but thanks to a three-day Test it was possible to escape Leeds for a couple of hours and drive through the North York Moors on the way to Whitby, a small Yorkshire fishing and holiday village. It’s the home of Captain Cook – no, not the opener Alastair, but James, the explorer who bumped into Australia in 1770.

At primary schools in Australia Cook was a central figure in geography and history lessons, and his name and deeds live on along Australia’s east coast. In Queensland he was the first white man to discover, among many other things, the Town of 1770, the Glass House Mountains and the Endeavour River in Cooktown, north of Cairns. His childhood cottage was even relocated to Melbourne’s Fitzroy Gardens, so it was great fun being in his town.

It’s a beautiful place too, overlooked by the spectacular ruins of St Hilda’s Abbey, 199 steps above the town, and divided by a river that reaches into the sea. The summer sun made it even more inviting, although it wasn’t just the crowded carparks near the beach that prevented a swim. Cook preferred the water but the land west of the town is also impressive.

The North York Moors were covered in heather on the peaks of their rounded hills. The harsh landscape slows the tourist traffic as everyone stares out the window, wondering how the scenery changed so quickly. Halfway down the hills there are lush green fields and ideal grazing land, but the top is rough and windswept. On the drive back to Leeds there were more idyllic rural scenes, enchanting fields and a stray wasp that apparently lodged in the shirt of my driver. He over-reacted by Australian standards, but those things do sting a bit. James Anderson probably would have squealed like that as well.

My old club in West Yorkshire is having a crisis, although something always seems to be going wrong. If it isn’t someone leaving the gate open so the horse can run through the village, it is trucks dumping soil while ruining the neighbouring football pitch, or rabbits eating the grass on the wicket. It’s always fun to get updates.

On Saturday only nine guys turned up for the first team, they did well to hold the opposition to about 160 and were all out for 40. My host top scored and the tale of the game was told in two of the village’s three local pubs. It was a gloomy night until I brightened things up by telling them about my day, and how Australia were five wickets from levelling the Ashes after only two days at Headingely. That helped them brighten up after their losing streak extended to seven.

The club has changed a lot since I played a handful of games over two seasons back in 2002 and 2003. When I popped in for a visit last week I thought I was in the wrong place. The ground was flat and there were covers and a scoreboard. When I was here last the fielder at deep midwicket was unable to see the stumps due to the slope. If a catch went that way everyone else would start yelling to let the person know the ball was coming. It was a pretty safe shot.

At other times in the year the game has to be stopped for 10 minutes because the sun is in the batsman’s eyes - it’s one of the few east to west pitches. They were good times. Next year the club is getting even more on-field improvements. Now all they need to do is stop losing.

The players’ viewing balcony is right next to the press box at Headingley and it was fascinating to watch Michael Hussey’s high-energy pre-batting routine. It can’t be much fun sitting next to him because just when everything goes quiet he springs up and runs on the spot, crunching his spikes on the cement.

After a burst of callisthenics and stretching he would sit back down and watch for a while until his mind told him he had been still for long enough. Cue more jumping, body twisting and focusing, a noisy set of exercises which continued until he was called to bat. Hussey is an intense player and his adrenal glands must work overtime with the stress shooting through his body.

He has been dismissed early a couple of times in this series and his desire to be alert for the first ball was clear. When Shane Watson was out he crackled down the steps and defended his opening delivery, appearing in control until he was lbw to a Stuart Broad inswinger from around the wicket. The dressing room is on the level below the balcony and once Hussey entered it there were no more trips upstairs.

	Ricky Ponting was given 500 shares of Altrincham FC for attending the friendly © Getty Images

The Australian squad split up last night, with half the team attending a civic reception in Leeds and five of them going to watch Altrincham FC play a Manchester United XI selection in Cheshire. Ricky Ponting, Peter Siddle, Stuart Clark, Michael Hussey and Shane Watson were the biggest names at the game, which they attended because Geoff Goodwin, the Conference club’s chairman, doubles as their bus driver in England.

Ponting was given 500 shares in the club for attending the friendly, matching the allocation handed out to Jason Gillespie and Adam Gilchrist four years ago. Manchester United’s reserves won 2-0 while the first team was preparing to play Valencia on Wednesday night.

Back in Leeds, Mitchell Johnson was one of the guests of honour in a reception hosted by the lord mayor Judith Elliott. Part of the festivities included Johnson and Phil Hughes batting against a computer-generated bowler who delivered from a big screen. A bit like playing Wii. Both missed at every attempt but when the mayor, a grandmother, stepped up she blasted two sixes from three balls before retiring to cheers from the small crowd.

Leeds is just as rainy as Birmingham and would feel exactly the same if I hadn’t used the city as a second home during three years in England. Arriving here is very calming because last night I was out for dinner and for half a minute actually didn’t know where I was. Before you start emailing WADA, it happens to me once every tour, it was early in the night and I was on my second drink. Still, as I looked at the restaurant wall I wasn’t sure whether I was in Brisbane, Barbados or Budapest.

Then someone started shouting “You all live in a convict colony” and I couldn’t be anywhere else but Birmingham. That song tops the West Midlands charts this week. It’s so hypnotic the city has been on theft watch every time someone in a yellow shirt goes near a loaf of bread. Anyway, my favourite lost moment occurred to a work mate who was so disoriented on a flight he had to ask the steward where the plane was going. So mine wasn’t bad at all.

Today our train went straight to Leeds, which is comfortable and familiar, grimier in some parts and unfamiliar in others. There’s Elland Road, which once staged Champions League matches, and over there is Majestyk nightclub, where the Leeds United players would sometimes find trouble.

Eight years ago I watched the hundreds of Ricky Ponting and Damien Martyn at Headingley before escaping back to London to work on the final day, which was made famous by Mark Butcher. In between those centuries I’d debuted for a small club in West Yorkshire, doing nothing on the field, but enough off it to be invited back three or four times a year for more afternoons of fielding on molehills.

Before leaving Birmingham I spotted poor Stuart Clark, who can’t escape carrying drinks on this tour. Just before the team bus left Edgbaston he was on a coffee run. The only difference this time was his partner wasn’t Andrew McDonald or Brett Lee or Phillip Hughes, but Ponting. Surely someone will be running Clark drinks when the third Test starts on Friday.

I was starting to get lost in the city centre this morning when a couple from Stoke pointed me the right way. They were excited about seeing some play after particularly poor luck with the weather. Initially they had tickets to the first four days, but gave away their day-two seats to a friend. That was a bad choice, with seven Australian wickets going before lunch and England in charge throughout. On their other visits to Edgbaston they not only got soaked, but on the opening afternoon saw their team’s worst 30 overs of the match.

They haven’t had a lot of luck with their cricket-watching careers, which are pretty committed. A few years ago their Indian holiday took in a Mumbai Test until the dates were changed, leaving them to attend an ODI instead. Then in 2006-07 they joined thousands of England supporters flying into Melbourne for Christmas and the Boxing Day Test. The only problem on that trip was Australia had already won the first three games and the series.

They’re the sort of experiences that actually galvanises England fans. If the hosts win this series the couple will be off to Australia late next year as well.

Tired of writing and thinking about rain. Not yet weary of all the soggy costumes. Today was an incredible fancy dress day at Edgbaston, starting with a gaggle of Dame Ednas in orange dresses, clutching a gladioli in one hand and a pint cup in the other. Classy. The weather was similar to Dame Edna’s home in Melbourne’s Moonee Ponds, too. Some of the Fantatics were definitely homesick.

A royal group of Kings of Spain (or was it spin?) were hoping the rain would fall mainly on the plain, but instead it dropped heavily on the outfield, which was finally ruled until after an inspection at 2.30pm. A two-man horse and its jockey then stayed on for a long drink.

Pick-up games out the back were popular for soaked supporters. One involved a Fred Flintstone bowling to a member of the Barmy Army who seemed to have been imbibing all week, or maybe longer. Holding on to the wheelie-bin wickets with one hand, he wobbled like Phillip Hughes in the opening two Tests – and managed to stay a bit longer. Sadly, it was the most entertaining innings of the day.

The players escaped their dressing-room cards, darts and reading to have a hit in the indoor nets and a run in the gym. Brett Lee delivered a few balls, ranging between 50 and 80% of his capacity in his recovery from a rib injury. Hopefully he’s not the only one who gets a run outside on Sunday.

After a week in Cardiff and another at Lord’s, the first day in Edgbaston was a bit of a let down. The early rain caused the biggest disappointment of the tour, delaying the start until 5pm, when the game began in brilliant sunshine. However, the setting is also a poor cousin to the previous two venues, a hotchpotch of stands without much charm, making it feel more like a lower division football stadium than an international cricket site.

South of Birmingham, where I’m staying, the hills roll and it is delightful middle England, but a few miles north the city starts and the flowers stop. When Edgbaston hosted the first Test of the series eight years ago it seemed much nicer – and not just because Australia won. I was camped in the crowd at square leg when Marcus Trescothick, who was delaying the innings defeat with 76, pulled a Brett Lee short ball to two seats away from me, where another Australian accepted a lunging take. The match finished early and the next venue was Wimbledon for the Rafter-Ivanisevic final. They were good days.

For the first six hours today it was much more subdued throughout the ground. Things livened up for a short time when the players stepped out, but got quieter with each boundary. In the stands there is usually an unofficial fancy dress contest being held, but there weren’t too many outstanding exhibits, probably due to the necessity for rain coats and umbrellas.

There were a handful of superheroes and a quartet of gods that weren’t capable of getting the clouds to blow away until well after lunch. For those not interested in beer or their mobiles during the break, there were highlights of the 2005 masterpiece created by these sides on the big screen. It wasn’t enough for some, who sat on the concrete concourse out the back reading novels or match programmes.

The late start did give the many cricket fans who indulged last night in expectation of a wet opening day more time to wake up. There were more than 500 people at a Lord’s Taverner’s dinner where Andrew Flintoff and Steve Harmison popped in for a brief Q&A. Matthew Hoggard was another guest and when asked if he was still being considered by England he looked to the front row and Ashley Giles, the England selector. He said Giles’ shake of the head told him everything.

England are carrying a 13-man squad in Birmingham and those onlookers with sinister minds could wonder about the methods employed by some of the players during their warm-up games of football. On Monday Ian Bell, just returned to first-choice status, twisted his ankle and on Tuesday Graeme Swann rolled around on the ground grabbing a foot before hobbling back into play (Can anyone remember where Monty Panesar was at the time?).

Neither player suffered enough to be in doubt for the game, but Edgbaston is a ground with a history of late setbacks. It was here that Glenn McGrath stepped on a ball before the second Test in 2005, an event which helped change the course of Ashes history.

Andrew Strauss will consider toning down the football challenges in the lead-up to the game, although there shouldn’t be too much danger of anyone going outside today. It’s pouring so much at the moment I fear the conservatory will start leaking.

"It wasn't ideal [on Monday], but we've played football for a long time and had no injuries,” Strauss said. “We just have to make sure we don't hack each other too much."

Strauss has been good fun on the tour and has been happy to laugh at himself. His wife Ruth is Australian but he convinced us there were no testing conversations about country allegiance in their house. "I think I've successfully converted her, cricket wise," he said, quickly adding that she remained pro-Aussie in all other departments.

Arthur Mailey, the Australian legspinner, journalist and cartoonist, called his biography 10 for 66 and All That for his best figures against Gloucestershire on the 1921 tour. Over the weekend we found ourselves on a day out in 1066 country, where there are constant oblique references for cricket anoraks, and also to some battles. So we drove through and enjoyed all that.

The Pevensey Castle in East Sussex dates back to the 1200s and despite some wear shows better defence than Monty Panesar and James Anderson on a final day in Cardiff. There are similarly attractive scenes not far away in the frighteningly-named town of Battle, the venue for some serious hostilities between the soldiers of William the Conqueror and the Saxon King Harold in the 11th century. The details make it impossible to believe the Ashes are ever referred to as war. Over in Eastbourne the beach is pebbled and too tough for cricket, but the weight of the raindrops was familiar from a couple of grounds over the past month.

A weekend garden party followed with Pimms and sandwiches topped with cucumber (seriously delicious), and now it’s off to Birmingham via an Andrew Strauss appearance at The Oval. Most of the main players have had a short break too, but it’s unlikely they spent time considering historical sites before their battles resume.

Dear British friends, it’s been so great to get all your texts since Monday. Buzz, buzz: England r gr8. Buzz, buzz: Ashes r ours. Buzz, buzz: Ur teams a dud. I haven’t heard from some of you for years. Four years, to be exact. It’s a fun week to be an Australian in England.

This sort of thing happened the last time I was here. Fortunately on that visit I didn’t last long enough to reach the 2005 Ashes experience, but I was around when Australia lost to Bangladesh in Cardiff. Another great day for receiving texts and emails.

So I’m starting to get a bit tired of the cricket-related messages on this trip. It’s a bit of a worry, as there are still six weeks to go. Maybe Kevin Pietersen’s injury (and a recovery for Mitchell Johnson?) will stop the texts. Please.

It’s swine flu season and the Australian team has asked one of the touring journalists to stay away from them for three days after a suspected case of the disease. There are many moments when the players would like to insist on a reporter being in quarantine (on one occasion in Worcester a reporter was uninvited from a press conference), but unfortunately for them it takes a pandemic to shut down some of the questions.

I don’t have it yet, but I think the guy in the pin-striped suit who sneezed on me this morning did. All over my paper. Britain seems to be the swine flu capital of the world at the moment and everyone seems to be sizing up each other’s health on the trains and buses. Life in the parks is much cleaner. There it’s the runners that make me feel sick.

Finding time to do any exercise other than walking up stairs or to the tube is kind of hard on tour, but in Kensington Gardens people pound their own tracks in the grass, passing Princess Diana’s former residence, or breezing past on bikes, pretending they are across the Channel in the Tour de France. Over there Cadel Evans is doing as well as the Australian cricket team did at Lord’s.

Evans, who is backing up after two second places in the race, is going downhill faster than Mitchell Johnson on the Lord’s slope. He started well before losing his rhythm and form while the Australians were at Lord’s. Unlike his countrymen, he is no longer in contention for one of sport’s greatest prizes.

At lunch at the Nursery End you really have no choice where you end up as the crowd river sweeps you along. Yesterday I was deposited on the bank next to the Wolf Blass Wine stall. Hmmm, what to do? Fortunately they were offering Chardonnay Semillon, something which gives me a headache as I’m drinking it instead of after.

Slipping back into the stream of people I found some friends who were lunching on the Nursery Ground outfield. Lord’s is a trustworthy place, where spectators are allowed to bring in a bottle of wine or a few beers to sip during the day. Nothing like that in Australia, where cans often go straight from the hand to the feet of fine leg. One day at the SCG Pat Symcox, the South Africa spinner, had an un-nibbled roast chicken hurled at him and one night at the Gabba there was an announcement over the PA saying anyone seen throwing paper planes on to the field will be ejected. Plastics cup of light beer have since been introduced at most grounds.

Being at Lord’s demands good behaviour. No streakers, no protestors and no stands full of people singing insults to great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren of convicts. It’s one week of genteel relief. Out the back of the pavilion there are picnics in the Coronation Gardens and clinking glasses brought from home. Can’t imagine that happening at Edgbaston or the Gabba.

My first day of a Lord’s Test was in 1991, as a 13-year-old, and entry was obtained in a particularly Australian way. Sri Lanka were playing a one-off match and my Dad was carrying a Melbourne Cricket Club badge loaned to him by a friend while we went on holiday. Dressed like Australian tourists, we turned up at the gate on the final day knowing that the southern hemisphere MCC had reciprocal rights with the original. We thought we’d either get into the pavilion or turned away – if that latter happened we wouldn’t pay to get in (too expensive), and it would have to be London sightseeing with the other half of the family.

The gateman, more polite than we’d heard about, let both of us in on one tiny badge but suggested it might be best if we didn’t head to the pavilion. Maybe it was because we were wearing shorts, not the required jacket or tie, or perhaps he remembered my Dad’s behaviour when Bob Massie took 16 wickets here in 1972. We sat underneath where the media centre would be built in time for the 1999 World Cup, surrounded by cheering Sri Lankan fans who were failing to inspire their over-powered heroes.

Two things stand out: Graham Gooch looking old and dropping a catch running back towards us; and a young Sanath Jayasuriya making a half-century at No. 6. Jayasuriya, then 22, was much classier than most of his team-mates and we wondered why he was batting so low. This time I’m sitting right behind the bowler’s arm in the Nursery End space. It’s luxury compared to the previous visit, but not as noisy as the media centre is almost soundproof.

The Sheffield Shield once spent a night in my house and currently it resides in the Lord’s museum, which must be a bit of a pain for Victoria, who won Australia’s domestic trophy in March for the first time in six seasons. It’s around the corner from the Ashes, the tiny urn which still has a bit missing from the cork, like it was hacked away by a pirate expecting whiskey instead of dust. Since the Shield slept in my lounge on its trip around Queensland to mark the team’s drought-breaking win in 1995, it’s undergone the sort of renovation expected of a middle-aged divorcee.

The frumpy blue felt was locked away in a cupboard at Cricket Australia’s offices while the organisation had an affair with a milk company and its shiny new trophy. When those cheques stopped arriving the Shield was restored, changing colours and faces with some intricate make-up. It looks familiar but, like a Trinny & Susannah makeover, you go searching for the person underneath the facade. Anyway, it’s great that it’s the first-class domestic reward again and it was bought originally with Lord Sheffield’s money, so it’s a worthy exhibit during an Ashes series.

My favourite piece in the museum is a mystery body part of Denis Compton’s. It was handed in by Compton’s surgeon who thought it was a knee cap. However, the tag below the off-white bone reads: “It’s now thought to be his hip joint removed in his second operation.” I’m glad he’s not my doctor.

A few times in the lead-up to the second Test, sitting in the spaceship which doubles as the media centre, I was consumed by typing or talking and forgot briefly where I was. Looking up from the screen snapped me back, with the imposing and magical pavilion staring straight back. It is the most majestic place to watch cricket, a treat I once had when Middlesex played Nottinghamshire in a Championship game, and is as high as the neighbouring stands.

It’s hard to think of sixes rattling into the base of the pavilion, which sits behind an already long straight boundary, but a few men have managed to bump it near the top. Only Albert Trott, who played for both Australia and England, has managed to clear it, and it’s unlikely anyone will aim for glory in this match. (If there’s a betting market on it Mitchell Johnson is my tip.)

Kim Hughes and Keith Miller have smashed the top of the building, with Miller commentating when Hughes sent a Chris Old delivery 125 metres during the Centenary Test of 1980. “Those in the vicinity maintain the ball was rising still as it struck the top deck of the pavilion,” wrote Chris Ryan in Golden Boy.

In the commentary box Miller, who peppered the structure during the Dominion Tests, was asked if he’d seen a bigger six at the ground. “Well, I hit a couple there myself, oddly enough,” he said. “But not many have. That is one of the biggest hits I’ve seen for many, many a year. On top of the balcony.”

All former Australian players who had appeared in an Ashes Test were invited back for that match and Kerry O’Keeffe, the straight-breaking legspinner, spent a bit of time in the Father Time Bar, where one of his drinking partners was Mick Jagger. O’Keeffe plans to park there again as part of his tour-leading duties over the next five days. Any member of the Rolling Stones who turns up is allowed to join the shout.

Walking into Lord’s and suddenly I remember I’ve never been to an Ashes Test there. I spent three years in London, starting in 2001, but couldn’t get tickets for the big match. Instead I had to be satisfied with seeing Australia lose to Middlesex in a one-day game and learning of a great pub crawl starting at the Lord’s Tavern and ending at Warwick Avenue tube. The following summer, by which time that hangover had finally eased, I went to the India Test and a 50-over final as well as a few county games. Suddenly I’m more excited – only two more sleeps!

Inside the ground there are tour groups full of green-and-gold decked tourists who trawl in awe through the ground, media centre and museum, where the urn sits along with the Sheffield Shield (at least that’s a temporary exhibit; the Ashes live here). While photos are being taken on the edge of the ground I spot a chance to step on to the outfield, but the staff are quick to block it off. If only I was swifter on my feet.

In the afternoon some of the game’s bigger names talk after their MCC cricket committee meeting. Steve Waugh is there, attracting my stares as I remember his great deeds before both our hairstyles started to change colour, and Geoffrey Boycott, who dominates when he speaks and even gets his panelists to laugh at the forceful mode of delivery. Rahul Dravid is deferential, sweating when he pats back an answer on whether India would warm to a World Champions of Test cricket.

There is talk of umpiring and dead pitches, pink balls and day-night Tests, Twenty20 and IPL, but the only mention of the Ashes is allowed when the Spirit of Cricket issue is raised about Sunday’s finish in Cardiff. Outside the teams are training, the pitch is being rolled and the ground is being polished. It’s the only contest being discussed – except in here.

Three spinners are bowling in this game but there are no leggies. It’s a strange sight for an Australian team that has had one on their past six tours of England. In the stands today there was a promising wrist-spinner who operates in the same style as Shane Warne, mimicking his action and dying his hair blonde.

Chris Swain is an 18-year-old from the Queensland country town of Rockhampton and he was walking around Sophia Gardens with his team-mates in the Australian indigenous development squad. He is nicknamed “Princess” by his best mate Preston White, who has batted well in the early Twenty20 games, and gave up a career in hairdressing to focus more on his cricket.

Swain has been picking up some wickets in their matches in London and was watching his first Test. “It’s a fair way, but it’s worth it,” he said. Next week the players will be back in the capital but Lord’s is too crammed for them to get seats at Australia’s second match.

After lunch Daniel Christian, the captain, and Swain met up with Jason Gillespie, Australia’s only Test player with Aboriginal heritage, having a great-grandfather who was a Kamilaroi warrior. It is one of the country’s great cricket disappointments that there have been no direct indigenous representatives. Cricket Australia is desperate to rectify the problem and Matthew Hayden has joined the search since his retirement in January.

Trent Clemments, the youngest player of the squad at 16, has talked about the lack of cricket role models. “I’m really proud of my culture,” Clemments, a promising batsman from Ingham in north Queensland, said. “There are not many idols for indigenous players to look up to in cricket. When I grew up, there wasn’t really anyone. I’d like to be that person, I’d like to be that role model.” He missed his mid-year exams to be on the trip and is deciding whether to move to Brisbane to further his game.

Before the tour the squad attended a camp in Brisbane where the players learned about the 1868 Aboriginal team’s visit to England. They beat Australia’s first Test tour by a dozen years and had to entertain the crowd with their non-cricket skills during the breaks. They spent six months in England, recording 14 wins, 14 losses and 19 draws, and had players such as King Cole, Two Penny, Dick-a-Dick and Johnny Mullagh.

In Cardiff there has been an Aboriginal flag hanging from a stand at the River End and the indigenous representatives are remembering their predecessors. “In the leadership camps before the trip it really opened my eyes up about the culture of the past,” Clemments said. “We touched on it, and saw some pictures, it was a pretty remarkable event. We don’t take for granted what they did for us to be here, to give us this opportunity.”

I currently feel like an International Olympic Committee delegate on a fact-finding mission, bulging with gifts and being indulged wherever I go. The Welsh people may be the nicest on earth. Or at least the ones involved in the staging of the Test are, smiling and asking questions as if they really are interested in how well I slept. They are in the park offering directions, at the gate checking tickets, pressing the buttons for the lift, welcoming me at the top of the lift, opening doors, offering food and drinks. So much food and drink.

Free gifts and functions have dominated the first two days. I hope a longer belt comes next. In the interests of transparency and full disclosure, things recently missing from the accounts of some British MPs, here is a list of the sweetners: a hip flask (given away to a more worthy recipient), whiskey, rain jacket, headset, thermos, mug, Welsh dragon soft toy, satchel, memory sticks, notebooks, drink vouchers, dinner invitations. I think that’s everything.

For Wales, this isn’t so much about getting its first Test, as being a regular five-day venue for future engagements. In England it wasn’t – and in some sections still isn’t – a popular choice for the opening Ashes encounter and there is an intense charm offensive here to remove the doubt from the doubters.

A reception was held in the awesome Cardiff Castle last night, where guests stood in the banquet room admiring the artwork on the walls, the views out the tiny windows, the narrow hallways with lots of exits for Robin Hood-types, and the Welsh rarebit (swanky cheese on toast). Still, not everyone was happy.

One veteran of the circuit, who usually saves his entertaining arguments for opposition captains in West Yorkshire club cricket, tore up his invitation in front of the gateman after initially being refused entry for arriving too late. Once that decision was over-ruled, a member of his party wasn’t allowed in for trying to re-enter after picking up his girlfriend from the station. Until then he was one of Cardiff’s greatest promoters, but left muttering about bureaucracy, government interference and the beauty of the Rose Bowl.

The Ashes is one of sport’s oldest contests but the 122-year rivalry of England-Australia is nothing compared to some of the landmarks around the country. The Cardiff Castle carries “2000 years of history”, making international cricket seem like an embryo in comparison.

There’s a palace, a battlement walk and wartime tunnels, but I like the falconry enclave, where the goggle-eyed birds of prey preen and show off their weaponry of talons and beaks. In the old days these sorts of castles would have had a falconer, and the sight of them brings back memories of William Butler Yeats’ The Second Coming, which was studied briefly in high school.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold ...

Not much chance of things falling apart in here as the birds, which perch on a small stump of wood, are on a short, tough leash. They stand like slip fielders, waiting for their chance to fly and catch.

Close by is a Norman Keep surrounded by a moat which has a lot of steep, shiny steps that are best negotiated in shoes with grip. They spiral towards a turret which becomes more cramped and less secure for those who start to shake at moderate heights. I can’t see the pitch from the top, but there’s a good view of the city skyline. Everything is so close in Cardiff and the castle is on the city’s doorstep, an easy stop-off on the way to Sophia Gardens.

Galle’s ground is in the shadow of the fort and Delhi’s Feroz Shah Kotla stadium has old ruins running down one side, but there aren’t too many Test grounds with easy access to incredible old buildings. The Riverside at Durham is watched over by Lumley Castle and many English supporters think that stadium is the one that should be on display this week instead of the oval near this ancient Welsh structure.

Kevin Pietersen steps up to talk on Monday and he can't finish a sentence without being interrupted. The Australians are in the indoor nets and Pietersen is speaking from cover, although he’s protected by a net and some black paper curtains. “I’m just as important as anyone else,” he says in between Australian drives. “I don’t [BANG] intend to [CRASH] have a bad series ... We’re going to come out [KAPLONK] fighting, not scared [BASH].” It’s more like an old-style episode of Batman and Robin.

On the way to Cardiff from Worcester the train stops in a few special places. The first is Malvern, where the tops of the hills hug any nearby crowds, and then it’s on to Abergavenny, another town which has a mountain as a grandstand to its cricket ground. It was here that Andrew Symonds hit a world-record 20 sixes in a match for Gloucestershire. Back then he might have played for England, but he finally represented Australia. In this series he won’t play for anyone. Australia missed him in the World Twenty20 but will cope without him over the next two months.

So everyone now moves to Cardiff and it’s goodbye to the delightful Worcester experience. The small town, small time warm-ups are over for Australia and on Wednesday everything becomes brutally serious.

The shift means no more wandering along the Severn River looking at swans or the Cathedral; no more strolls through the city centre admiring the Tudor houses from the 1500s in Friar Street, or looking at the public clocks that all show different times.

Before leaving the New Road ground one day I saw David Leatherdale, the county’s former batting allrounder, walking through the stands and was reminded of one of Steve Waugh’s sledges. While outlining the weakness of county cricket in his 1997 tour diary, Waugh wrote that someone with the skills of Leatherdale couldn’t get a bowl in a Chinese restaurant, even though he had taken 5 for 10 in a one-dayer against the tourists.

Five years later and Waugh, playing for Kent, runs into Leatherdale and is bowled for 3. The Australians aren’t talking so tough on this tour and for a good reason. Unlike Waugh and his men, this group isn’t sure how good it is.

At the start of each day the Australians have been standing in a circle in the outfield inspiring each other with short speeches on their favourite Ashes memories. On the third morning in Worcester it was Shane Watson’s turn and, as he held a sheet of A4 to address the group, it looked like he might have been reading from his flight itinerary back home. Not so. He’s staying and his thigh injury is improving, but probably not in time to be serious contender for the first Test.

The coach Tim Nielsen, who led the talk on the final day, has had a busy match correcting some basic technical flaws in a couple of his first-choice players. Marcus North admitted he wasn’t watching the ball in his first three innings of the trip, but after some sessions with Nielsen he regained his focus. On Friday he started with a calming century and today he finished with a brutal blast against some declaration bowling to finish with 191 not out.

Brad Haddin chipped in with a bright 25, but his keeping is the discipline needing the greater lift. He lunged to miss two catches in the first innings and at the end of the third day was working with Nielsen on staying low and keeping his weight on his toes to help his footwork in both directions. At crucial moments on the field he had been on his heels and the remedial session continued on the final morning. It’s strange that even full-time professionals forget the basics.

***

The sombre finish to the tour game could not even be sweetened by cakes from the ladies’ pavilion today. Fortunately we were warned that the tea enthusiasts don’t work on the last afternoon so we stocked up on the opening three days.

“It’s a calorie-free zone up here,” one of the women said during the week to make everyone feel better about their indulgence. It’s such a lie. There are cakes everywhere. It’s more like a cholesterol factory than a flour-stained old building, and at 3pm it was the most popular part of the New Road ground.

For three days the line dropped down the steps of the pavilion and moved slowly towards the sort of spread Homer Simpson dreams of when he falls asleep in church. Three types of sponge, cranberry scones, teacake, date cake, normal scones, chocolate cake, lemon twist cake and other cakes without names. All for 80p a slice. There seemed to be an unofficial limit of two pieces per person, but there were people with paper plates in both hands swearing they were fulfilling orders for friends.

Peter Siddle is being painted as the next Merv Hughes in some sections of England and there is a thirst like Big Merv’s in his playing days for details on the latest Victorian fast bowler. Siddle isn’t playing in Worcester and is resting before the first Test, so he was on Sky at tea speaking about his childhood hobby of woodchopping.

“There’s not much to it,” he said. “It’s a little sport in country Australia. With an axe, you stand on top of a bit of wood and the first one through wins.”

He was a good axeman as a child but did it only for a couple of years, thinking more of his safety than the prize ribbons. “It was part of the reason I wanted to get rid of it,” he said. “If I wanted to play sport in the future I thought I should probably give it up. I’d need all my body parts.”

Since then his main problem has been a series of serious shoulder injuries, but they haven’t stopped him from growing into one of the side’s main men. Expect him to cut through a few batsmen in Cardiff.

Nathan Hauritz must have thought his luck had changed when he was batting on the first day and the ball hit the stumps without removing the bail. It hasn’t. Poor guy. After being taken to at Hove in the first game, he suffered similarly tough treatment in Worcester today. It was nothing like Bryce McGain’s pummelling in Cape Town earlier in the year, but Hauritz was unable to contain, the trait he is picked for.

In 1993 Shane Warne was smashed around Worcester by Graeme Hick and then nobody took much notice of him until his first ball at Old Trafford. That day Warne restricted himself to legspinners, not wanting to show any of his other tricks. Hauritz doesn’t have that luxury and is doing his best already, even though he has had some trouble gripping the Duke ball.

So first to the good news for Hauritz. Stephen Moore, who top scored with 120 for the England Lions, said Hauritz spun it and bowls with nice shape.

Now for the not so good news. “We went out there to make sure we made life difficult for him,” Moore said. And they did. “Without that X-factor Shane Warne has, you’ve got that area you can attack. There was a lot of pressure on him if he didn’t hold up an end.” In 18 overs he gave away 80 runs, including two sixes down the ground, and unless there’s a big haul in the second innings, Australia will have to go for four fast men in Cardiff.

Shane Watson batted in the nets today as he recovers slowly from his thigh injury that should prevent him from being considered for the first Test. He also delivered his opening balls of the Ashes tour, stopping after some laps of the oval to bowl three deliveries to some corporate spectators having a pick-up game after play. The outswinger worked off a couple of steps and he avoided further injury.

“The beauty of the Worcester ground, I think, is slightly exaggerated,” Jack Fingleton wrote in Brightly Fades the Don. “When you look at the ground with the Cathedral at your back, the Worcester ground is no prettier or uglier than most English county grounds though it has a pleasant pavilion.” Sadly, the old pavilion is no longer here, replaced by a modern block tower carrying the name of Graeme Hick, and as much flair.

Sixty-one years on from Fingleton’s tour and the trees have grown on the banks of the River Severn, leaving the top of the Cathedral to peek over them towards the ground. At the New Road end there is a restricted view and the best place to sit is in the ladies stand, a quaint, tiled-roof building with a small collection of reserved seats for women. When watching from there the cricket is what interrupts the scenery.

Apparently there have been requests to the local council to trim the trees, allowing all the spectators to idle between the game and the church, but they have been rejected. Twenty years ago there were fears the tower would collapse, but the restoration was completed last year, costing around £10m.

As a budding greenie, there’s no desire to call for the chainsaw, and the foliage encourages spectators to shift their seats for the variety of views. I don’t think the beauty of the ground is exaggerated and it was enjoyed by a strong crowd on the opening day of the tour game, from the moment Graham Onions ran in to Phillip Hughes with the bells chiming to 11.

The Cathedral should stay in sight for the rest of the game, depending on the thickness of the predicted rain clouds, but the ground is as close as the Australian squad will get to it. In Fingleton’s time as a player and writer it was tradition for the side to inspect the church the night before the tour game, but a similar visit was not in Ricky Ponting’s plans. “No, that was the previous captain,” he said, referring to Steve Waugh’s team-building expeditions.

Worcester used to be the opening stop on Australia’s Ashes tour, but times changed itineraries and on this trip it is the second venue for the team, and my first. Whenever the town is mentioned to England supporters there is talk of the flooding Severn River, which spills over Worcestershire’s New Road ground, usually in winter. To Australian fans with a lust for Ashes trips, this field is where Bradman scored three double-centuries and a century in his four visits, and where the magical cathedral seems to field at third man. The teas from the ladies’ pavilion are supposed to be equally special and will be trialled by those players being tested this week.

Tipping the destination of the urn is difficult, with both sides rebuilding and hoping for good results rather than knowing they will arrive. Over the next four days the Australians face the England Lions in a match that matters, a rarity for a modern tour game. In Bradman’s days he was able to reach 1000 runs before June, but those sorts of numbers are unlikely for any of the batsmen in the squad for the entire trip. If someone does get that far the Ashes will be retained.

Back then it was tradition in Worcester to play what was expected to be the Test XI. The current team would love to know the first-choice side, but there are too many bowling variables for any certainty until the match is over. Peter Siddle, who should start in Cardiff, has been rested while Mitchell Johnson plays his first match in whites in England since an Under-19 trip when he ran into Ian Bell, the England Lions captain. The real battle is not between the Australians and England’s 2nd XI, but between Brett Lee, Stuart Clark and Nathan Hauritz, who are basically pushing for two spots.

A visit to England ensures many companions and two of my non-breathing travellers are Brightly Fades the Don by Jack Fingleton and Christian Ryan’s Golden Boy. Fingleton’s is the story of the unbeaten 1948 tour and the departure of Bradman while Ryan’s work, a biography of Hughes, contains long passages about 1981, a series of wonder for England and one of horror for Australia’s dysfunctional squad. Hughes led the team but was constantly under-mined by his senior players, something which won’t happen to Ricky Ponting (At 34 he’s the oldest and nine of the 15 players are under 30). Ponting’s men will do well to fall somewhere in between those polarised visits of an Australian cricketer’s most envied destination.