None of this, however, comes remotely close to cricket's most peculiar characteristic, namely, the bigger the crowd, the more important the occasion and the more expensive the seats, the bigger the effort to remain off the field of play for as long as is conceivably possible. Sixty-six overs were lost to the weather yesterday, which is roughly 66 overs more than would have been lost had the match been between Upton Snodsbury and Old Teacakians rather than England and South Africa.

Lord's is the only Test match venue in England that has yet to succumb to some degree of crowd yobbery, but the spectators' patience was tested yesterday as cricket's 11th commandment, Thou Shalt Not Play, was invoked with all its customary ritual.

Whether or not it really was too wet to start proceedings until 1.30pm, it was not exactly brilliant PR for the players to be running around on the outfield without anyone remotely threatening to fall down in a muddy heap. Furthermore, why Wisden consistently fails to record Law 43: As Soon As Play Restarts, The Lunch/ Tea Interval Shall Be Taken, is something that the editor should find room for in the 1999 Almanac.

The crowd were just settling back into the cricket following an afternoon interruption, when, after 55 minutes' play, the players became hungry and trooped off for their toasted teacakes and jam scones. Rules are rules, of course, as a cham- pionship crowd at the Oval discovered some years ago when tea was taken with Surrey requiring two runs to win and Leicestershire one wicket.

There is also a tradition involving the removal of the covers. Firstly, Pickford's could effect a house removal in half the time, and secondly, if it takes 20 minutes to take the covers off, then another 15 minutes is added while the outfield makes the crucial transition from ever so slightly damp, to ever so slightly less damp. Yesterday, after a light shower, the operation to remove the covers took from 2.40pm to 3pm, but play did not restart until 3.15pm. There is, of course, no provision for play to restart at quite so silly a time as 3.14pm, and 'as soon as possible' is clearly ridiculous.

There is another, no less important, tradition involved in halting play, which is known as bad light. Bad light, according to the regulations, is invoked when there is a risk of physical injury. In practice, however, it is invoked whenever one of the fielders removes his sunglasses. It is also invoked, as was the case yesterday, at the precise moment that the batsmen appear to be seeing it like a football and creaming it to all parts of the ground.

Ergo, as soon as Hansie Cronje and Jonty Rhodes began playing with joyous abandon, the umpires offered them the light. The batsmen, as etiquette demands, duly held a mid-pitch conference, and once they had established that they were both playing Dean Headley with a stick of rhubarb, they marched briskly back to the pavilion.