Day 1 (23 October)

"You're only a day away." That's what the orphan Annie said about tomorrow, but judging by the chaos which reigned supreme at the Bangabandhu stadium today, the organisers of the WIC must be wishing that there was another week before the tournament was due to start. Or so it would seem to the average onlooker. Somehow though, and who am I to question how, there's little doubt that come 2pm tomorrow, things will be in as good a shape as the new model Arjuna Ranatunga.

Still, for all the apparent chaos, there are plenty of laughs to be had. Not least at the expense of the three unnamed individuals from an unnamed internet organisation who spent 1600 Taka (US$ 35) on a taxi ride to the stadium yesteray. Suffice to say that they are now much the wiser, and spent just 50 Taka for the same journey today, making use of the "Baby Taxis," as the locals affectionately call the three-wheeled motorised rickshaws.

We're being housed in the scoring box, and we spent much of today scoping it out, and installing various pieces of high-tech equipment, ranging from chairs, to tables. It's going to be a bit of a rush to get in there early tomorrow morning though. We've got to do battle with the official scorers for seats, and naturally we firmly believe that we deserve the prime position - that's the seat next to the TV replay monitor. Unfortunately, there's eleven of them, and just four of us.

Actually, now that I've mentioned that, I realise that as long as we have Sir Travis Basevi in our midst, we've got very little to worry about. Those of you who know Travis as well as I have the misfortune to, will understand just how remarkable and amusing it is to see him saluted by guards everywhere we go in the stadium.

The tournament starts tomorrow, and I'm hoping we're all set for it. It's 3am here, and it looks like being a while before I can follow the example set by Badri Seshadri, and pass out in a corner of the bed. Still, that's a darn sight better than Alex. I don't know if anyone's watching us at work via our web He's a bit like one of those alarm clocks on snooze - every few minutes, he yells out "Oh, stop it!" It's a very proper yell, dignified and all that, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what it's all about. We know it's nothing to do with the half

On that note, it's time for another day to come to an end. Tomorrow, the real fun and games begin. Or have I said that before?