I was passing time in the new UCLES Cafe the other morning, nursing a piping tea and an unshakable sense of under-achievement when I noticed a familiar young man swerving elegantly through the crowds.
It was the beard that caught my eye first, curling nonchalantly across his stout chin like a care-free weasel reclining on a warm rock. My first thoughts were conspicously Elizabethan until I recognised the sharp yet gregarious shoes.
"My word", I exclaimed, "It's Mr Wylie". And so t'was.
Having returned from an ambitious attempt to be somewhere else, rather like an 16th Century explorer sailing round the Isle of Wight for six months before returning to court with a collection of odd-shaped vegetables and a sun tan, Wylie was once more on UCLES turf, brimming with possiblities of a new season.
I cornered him for a long and elegant conversation about cover drives only for him to curtail me with suggestions that he was 'in a meeting'. Confused somewhat, I withdrew.
In recognition of the return of the golden boy of UCLES* cricket I bring before you arguably his finest hour. Although it's not a particularly good argument...
