DRESSED to his chin in sweaters and tracksuit while play continued at Southampton over the weekend, Paul Reiffel sat on the players' balcony and contemplated his second visit to England.

He did not much agree with the idea that he has settled easily into an 'English length' because, he remarked, he always bowls that length. He said that some bowlers, and Glenn McGrath is obviously one, bowl a shorter length on faster pitches but that he just ``bowled normal'' and had always looked to ``drag batsmen forward''.

He likes bowling here - he took 19 wickets in three Tests in 1993 - and especially in the present miserable weather, because the dampness in the pitches allows the seam to grip and the moisture in the air allows the ball to swing generously. The slower pitches do not bother him, he said, because he relies on accuracy to work a batsman over rather than speed or bounce to shock him into error. He was pleased that his outswinger is going, something he didn't really have in 1993, and which he thought came from at last understanding the mechanics of his bowling. He was aware that now is the time to cash in because when the warmer, drier weather comes there isnothing so good for batting as a good English pitch, and then even he will have to alter his length a little.

He did not think he had bowled especially well in the first innings at Lord's, where he was too wide with the new ball and annoyingly had not committed the batsman to play, which was a sin. Happily the misdirection had gone in Australia's favour, he agreed, because England could not score from Reiffel's end while they could not preserve their wickets against McGrath. It was important to be ``a partnership bowler and to work with the others as a unit''.

He had bowled some beauties, mind you, which kept the batsman aware of his threat and on balance he had been delighted to have found the groove so quickly. After all, he was only just off the plane.

Leaning back a little on the bench, he reflected on the frustration of his initial exclusion from the tour. The news had hit him very hard, really got under his skin, and he was aggravated that noone - selectors he meant - had contacted him to say where he had gone wrong. The rumour that he was an injury risk was infuriating because he was quite fit enough, thank you, and if his hamstring problems does linger, experience has taught him to manage them and they are now under control.

He said it had been hard to watch the team take off for England and though he had not realised, his anger at being omitted turned to depression. He learnt as much during a valuable chat with the Victorian team's psychologist, who called it grieving. Reiffel, who is not one to wear his heart on his sleeve but whose emotional sensitivity comes over loud and clear, accepted that losing something close to you, something that takes up so much of your life, can lead to dark thoughts.

``The experience was the worst of my career. I know it's only sport but it is a career too. And though I never thought as seriously about retiring, as was suggested, I did run through other possibilities for this stage of my life. Having said that, many worse things happen and once I had come to terms with the disappointment, I began to look forward to playing for Victoria and Richmond again and perhaps in county cricket.''

His course of rehabilitation began with a nine-day car rally through Tasmania and along the east coast of Australia. His co-driver, more likely the captain, was another Victorian fast bowler; a very different kettle, one Mervyn Hughes. Nine days in a car with Merv? That's make or break.

REIFFEL says he learnt more tricks from Hughes than from anyone. ``Merv's a street fighter, a man who knew how to survive through a smart bowling brain and an amazing ability to compete in any situation. He kept cricket simple - what you saw was what you got - which is a good example for any cricketer to follow. Time spent with Merv is never wasted.''

Clearly not. A bonus from the Australian selectors' original mistake is that Reiffel is fresh, not just physically, which matters, but mentally, which matters most for the intensity of Test cricket. His presence in the attack gives it solidity, gives it a straight back when, prior to Lord's, it had looked hunched and strangely unsure of itself.

Reiffel is not a cricketer of extravagant frills, he is a mean, straightforward bowler who nags at batsmen for his success and who allows others around him to expand in their own play. He is a deal quicker than he looks from afar - he bowls that thing cricketers refer to as a 'heavy' ball which jars the splice of the bat - and he has the special knack, like Hughes, of taking wickets when they are most needed.

His brooding when the world is against him can be seen as disaffection or worse, as disinterest. And given the signature ``laid-back'' approach, you would barely think he cared. But he does, of course, and it is because the dressing room knows as much, because of his value as a team player, that he has settled back with his mates as if he had not been away.