Expectant chatter and boastful predictions were all the rage as the punters milled around the Hobbs Gates for the second day's play. It's amazing what a day of confident batting can do for the nation's morale - or at least those in south London. The cafes of Clapham Road were doing a roaring trade, as were the touts, while a voluptuous lady in an "I ate all the pies" T-shirt was discussing Michael Vaughan's prospects at the top of her voice - and frankly, nothing less than a triple-century would do. The weather didn't look too promising though - the now-familiar Blue Square Blimp (a name that somehow conjures images of David Boon holding his breath ...) was being buffeted by a forceful rain-bearing wind, and at times it even threatened to break its moorings. Tethered in nearby Kennington Park, it appeared to have developed a cult following, judging by the multi-coloured marquee that had been erected at its base. On closer inspection, however, this turned out to be the centrepiece of Zippo's Circus (the best in London, apparently). Inside the tent, three girls were being put through their paces by a stout ringmistress. One was performing acrobatics on a trapeze, another was leaping and twisting in a display of rhythmic gymnastics, and the third was balanced on a podium, jumping through a hoop. Much like India's bowlers then.

Bacon sandwiches completed, the masses began to file into the ground, while a sparse crowd - pockmarked with a rash of vivid orange stewards - watched the teams go through their warm-ups. Duncan Fletcher patrolled the England half of the ground, intermittently launching another high catch for a hapless fielder, while Alec Stewart and Ashley Giles cut lonely figures, practising on a spare strip near the Surridge enclosure. Stewart, whose Test record at London's other venue is second to none, has often wished he could roll up the turf and take it with him.

All gaps in the crowd were quickly filled when Vaughan took two boundaries off Ajit Agarkar's first over to move into the 190s, but that was as good as it got. Zaheer Khan tempted him to nibble at a good length, Ratra completed the catch and the crowd sighed and swore in equal measure, before remembering their good manners and standing for a sympathetic ovation. There was barely a murmur of acknowledgment from the press box, however. Perhaps they were still miffed at missing out on their interview last night.

With Vaughan gone, and Crawley and Hussain soon to follow, the loudest cheer of the morning session was reserved for a particularly persistent pigeon, who stood its ground like an Australian opener, despite repeated swings of Nasser's bat. The umpires weren't far behind, when, with 50 minutes until lunch, they threatened to go off for rain, before performing a U-turn halfway to the pavilion. The simultaneous folding of 18,000 umbrellas caused ears to pop all round.

With lunch approaching, it was time to take a stroll around the AMP Oval (as a plague of signs around the press box implored the media to call it). A mishmash of red brick and concrete, it is hardly an attractive ground. At this stage, with England threatening to collapse, the largest queues were not for the overpriced meals but for the betting tent, while the alcohol outlets were strangely underpopulated. This, however, might have had something to do with the swarm of cider promoters lurking in the high-walled corridor behind the pavilion ready to dole out dollops of Scrumpy Jack's. Dressed all in red, with huge vats of booze strapped to their backs, they resembled overgrown ladybirds and proved equally difficult to shake off.

And then there was the ubiquitous Pride Side, the gang of lions chosen to reinvent cricket as a sport for the young. They were doing their bit as well, cavorting with the kids and showing off their intergalactic skills during the interval. Fortunately there were a couple of joyless stewards on hand to prevent the high jinks getting too high. A pair of eight-year-olds had found the perfect use for one of the pointless concrete slopes behind the Surridge Stand, converting it into an impromptu slide ... for all of ten seconds.

Mind you, this is a series decider. It wouldn't do if the atmosphere was anything less than deadly serious.

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