Ok, so I am obviously not referring to the actual ashes. I am referring to The Canadian Ashes. The annual match between the Australian High Commission and the British High Commission. So while it may not have had the names playing you might all be familiar with, it wasn't missing that important factor - a trophy and a determination to win.
The British, as has been the case frequently of late, won the toss and the opportunity to bat first. We were late, as the bus system failed us, and our bus did not turn up. I'll just say - that was the first and only time that Oc Transpo has failed us as usually the buses are frequent and on time. So, as we arrived Hubby dashed off to get into his Ashes uniform and the girls and I settled in to watch the game. We were riveted, didn't move and watched every delivery, celebrating the wickets and the final total of 90 runs in 20 overs.
Ok, so I wanted to watch the game but actually I didn't see any of the British innings. Instead I flaunted my athletic prowess in front of all the spectators by sprinting after The Youngest as she continually attempted to enter the field. She is getting quick. I am surprised she and I didn't get hit by a cricket ball, but someone said it was a slow outfield, so that must have been why...
I attempted to chat to some of the other wives, but managed a sentence or two before The Eldest started berating me for not introducing her to the older girls playing with a large beach ball. Even when I did introduce her, her shyness prevented her from joining in, so I ended up playing an alternative version of hide and seek, where no one was actually hiding, but actually running away from their mother as far and as fast as they could go.
The afternoon tea break arrived at the end of the British innings, and with glee both children launched themselves at their father. They love a marching band over here, so we had the bagpipes and the drummers. My children were riveted for a nanosecond. A sympathetic spouse brought me a cup of tea, scones and cucumber sandwiches. I envied her the casual put togetherness of her outfit. I envied her her decision not have children thus far. I wanted to swap places with her for five minutes. Instead, I somehow found enough energy to croak out a thankyou, down my cup of tea, scoff my scones and head back off to play. I love to play and run and play and run and just be a kid. Oh no wait. Actually I don't.
Forunately by the time the Aussies started their innings, The Eldest had finally made friends with the older girls, and The Youngest decided to begin a marathon session of seeing just how many pieces of orange she could eat in a sitting. I am thinking she may have eaten about 3 wholes oranges worth judging from the peel left over. So, I actually got to watch the innings. As our number of overs diminished, our total rose higher, until with 6 balls to go, we only needed 3 runs to win. Hubby was batting and unfortunately was run out when his batting partner went for a 2nd run that was never there. We lost another wicket on the next ball, and then, with a couple of balls to go, we got the runs that won us the trophy.
The Aussies won the Ashes.
The Marching Band
Oh the fun
The oranges
The Trophy
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