Couple the weight of all this grub with the fact of me invariably having to 'hang on to' our toddler backpack, Leo's bag, Leo's monkey harness, Rach's oystercard, Rach's phone, Rach's purse, Rach's psyche, my bag, my camera, any suitcases or wheelie bags that our guests need lugging, and any excess clothing that I or she may have been foolish enough to wear, and I've become the Dickie Bird of fatherhood, accumulating jumpers, hats and bags in a sweaty pile whilst those around me have fun jumping and throwing balls and catching and stuff.
As a lad watching test cricket on TV, I seem to remember the umpires ending sessions piled high with players' clothing, as a cold 11am at Old Trafford gave way to an unexpectedly hot Lancashire lunchtime. On reflection it's clear that the bulge around David Shepherd's midriff wasn't entirely a consequence of him 'layering up', but it was a fact of the game back then - you got hot, you took off your jumper and you gave it to the ump; and if you were a fast bowler charging in from the boundary you probably gave him your hat to wear, too, at least during your spell.
These days it's much rarer to see the umpires dressed up like hot snowmen. Advances in clothing technology have resulted in players wearing skin-hugging thermal micro-layers beneath their kit, 'cool when it's hot, hot when it's cool'-type fabric. The fact that they're generally a 'base layer' means that they're rather delicate to remove in public, and as such we're unlikely to be one day reminiscing about the time Chris Gayle handed Billy Bowden his sweaty lycra knickers mid-session.
If only the same could be said of Leo 'Take. Nappy. Off?' King.
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