Antique radio with its weak, long wave signal, was my constant companion.
The only thing I could get was cricket.
I knew nothing about cricket.
Had no interest in cricket.
But the mind craved some kind of diversion.
I listened to the commentary. Picked up how the scoring worked.
Visualised the action as surely as if I'd been there, sat on a bench in the grounds.
This listening become my ballast during the days, weeks, months that followed as I adjusted to the idea that she really meant it this time.