He was the town's most respected figure, so it had made sense for him to umpire from both ends as he always had. He loved his job, patrolling the village, nodding politely to the relaxed residents and enjoying a generous cup of tea or ten on his rounds. His mind, as had become a habit over the years, drifted off and settled on the unsightly image of a large grey cloud that appeared to be rapidly making it's way towards them with plenty of reinforcements in tow. Surely rain wouldn't be stopping play he pondered?
"Owzatt!!!" He screamed. His spin bowling had often proved too much for the young lads, his accuracy with the ball matching his accuracy with a diagnosis. "Not Out" came the slightly panicked response, much to the bowler's bemusement. "I presume you weren't watching" he jovially teased the umpire. As was typical in these games the wily elder statesmen of the village had proven too canny for the young whippersnappers, and as the wickets had fallen certain levels of leniency had mingled with the integrity of each decision. He returned to his mark and tossed the next one up intending to remove any decision from the Umpire's fingers. With all the coordination of a Chris Martin heave through cow corner the youngster got a thick outside edge and watched with glee as the ball sped towards the third man boundary and disappeared into an inconveniently placed bramble bush. As a group of Mums made their way over to try and dig it out, the heavens decided to open and forced everyone to dash for the pavilion. It seemed a shame not to use this chance to try the new ale tap that was now the pride and joy of the pavilion?s owner, and the game was called an honourable draw as the two captains, young and old, amiably shook hands.
It was the first time in over a decade that rain had stopped play, and little did they know, it wasn't only the weather that was taking a turn for the worse. For when the rain runs downhill into the village of New Duckton, so too does the mud of Duckton follow.