Cricket test

I'm not sure if we could have asked for more at Lords yesterday: warm sunshine, brilliant atmosphere, great seat, fine wine and a win for England against India in the Twenty20 match.

My only regret was an evens bet with my host on India to win; not because I lost, but because it created divided loyalties at the death.

Some people say that Twenty20 isn't real cricket. Others say it's the future. In one sense it's a little bit more like football as the outcome of a match can turn on one or two incidents and that means that the best team does not always win.

It would be a shame if test cricket was allowed to decline in favour of the one-day and Twenty20 games where cash generated by TV and crowd-pulling contests might begin to overshadow the 5-day game. But if you are looking for the heart and soul, the history and the heritage of cricket, most of the events that have made it such a great game have happened in test matches.

Indian supporters easily outnumbered those for England yesterday which made for a great atmosphere in the ground. I know these are international matches but the playing of the national anthems seemed a bit out of place in this atmosphere. When the Irish lined up for their anthem in the first match, hardly anyone sang. After listening to the Irish thumping out their anthem in Croke Park at rugby matches, it seemed odd to hear it played with barely a voice raised.

I'm reminded at these matches about Norman Tebbit's infamous "cricket test" of national sympathies. Most of the Indian crowd, I would guess, would be British nationals. So shouldn't they have been supporting England? I don't see why this should be an issue. It's natural to stay close to your roots in sport. I live in Surrey today but as a Yorkshireman I know which team I want to win the county championship, and it isn't Surrey.

It takes more than a passport and an oath of loyalty to turn your back on the country of your birth, or even your parents' birth. Well, it does for some. All it took for me was an evens bet on India to win.

Kids' stuff

What a beautiful day - for all of 30 minutes - before I opened the letters' page of yesterday's Daily Telegraph. The newspaper had sneaked itself in to the car so I hadn't read it on the day of issue. That must have been why I felt on top form yesterday. There was none of the miserable, small-minded niggling of Telegraph readers to sap the spirit.

Enjoying the freedom of their letters' page, they were chewing over language usage, a favourite topic in the Home Counties whose residents think they own the English language when we all know that it belongs to the Queen.

While I agreed with some of the points I found myself taking issue with the views of Harold Carter of Pocklington, North Yorkshire (part of the rich farming belt from Harrogate across to the Yorkshire Wolds that I think of as the "Surrey of the North").

Mr Carter revealed that "the word that always grates on my ear is kids. It was used by Tony Blair and is commonly used on the radio.

Billy goat

"I am of the opinion that a kid is the product of a nanny and a billy goat. Its usage in my youth for "child" conjured up a picture a complete urchin.

"When was the term first used to describe a child?" A letter in today's paper says that Rudyard Kipling was using the term a hundred years ago. That's far too recent for Telegraph readers who think would feel more comfortable with Chaucer.

I had used the word in my FT column on creativity only this week, when referring to my own kids. I looked at it once or twice, thought of using "children" instead, but settled on kids because I think this best describes them.

The thing is they are no longer little children. Of the two discussed in the piece, George is 16 next month and Robert, for goodness sake, is 21, a young adult. Yet they are both kids really and some of what I was discussing - see the previous blog - was kids' stuff, except that, as I explained in the column, much of it wasn't.

Viral marketing

Note the way that the letter had to drag in Tony Blair for good measure. I wonder what Mr Carter would make of mash-ups, play lists and viral marketing? My kids understand this stuff, even though they are kids.

I use language that I consider most appropriate, that readers will easily understand and, yes, I do weigh the possibility that something might grate with a reader against the attraction of colloquial usage.

Use of language is a sensitive subject. All writers must respect that. But you can never please everyone. The most important point is this: did readers get the message? Possibly not in Pocklington.

Meanwhile the boys (kids? Young men?) are enjoying the success they're having with their video. It has been interesting to watch the increase in viewing numbers - (Sunday - 80, Monday - 280, Tuesday - 1,000+, Wednesday 2,000 to 4,000 in the day, and this morning(Thursday) the figure was over 6,000. There was a big viewing boost when Rugbydump.com, one of Rob's favourite sites, chose to feature it (at Rob's urging) in its "midweek madness" section on the front page. It's been a great lesson for them - for me too.

Tension builds to fan the kipper

Christmas Eve in Waitrose: people were crawling over the shelves like locusts in one last manic rush. We called at the butcher's for the turkey and a joint of pork and I drove over to Guildford to get some flowers. I like doing the flower arranging at Christmas.

By 10.30am everything was done. The sales had already started in Guildford. It's as if people can't wait to get things over with before they move on to the next thing. Christmas is a time to savour things, to take time out and have some long conversations that shouldn't need to end in a hurry.

Yet, according to some reports, some 3.7m people will be shopping online on Christmas Day. I can understand how some get itchy feet on Boxing Day after 24-hours with the relatives, but there really ought to be a law against shopping on Christmas Day.

Tension is building for our annual "fan the kipper" contest. Will the silver rabbit go to Yorkshire this year, or will it stay in Surrey?

Otherwise, after getting rid of the mother of bad moods that has made life miserable for the rest of the family these past few days, I am beginning to mellow. The dog is clean and white and all is well with the world. That just leaves me time to wish all those in blogging land, wherever you are, whatever your persuasion, my best wishes for Christmas and the New Year. If there is anything you have missed in that last trip to the shops, forget it, it doesn't matter. The best things in life are improvised.

Postscript: The Silver Rabbit resides again in Surrey after various protests of foul play against the eventual winner (me) were rejected by the organising body (also me). There were fears that uncertainty over the outcome could drag on in to the next year, undermining the sport of kipper fanning, but the organiser chose to draw a line under this year's controversies reminiscent of the damaging kipper knobbling scandal that marred contests in the late 1990s. In a brief statement, I said: "The future of the sport is more important than any petty squabbling."