Further ramblings of a self-made pauper

It's over, and my nerves, shredded, reknit and reshredded again now have time to mend properly before the final test at the Oval.

England won by three wickets, but that last few runs nearly did for me, especially after Freddie Flintoff and then Geraint Jones went. I could see Warne single-handedly pulling the Aussies' fat out of the fire.

This has to be the best test series for twenty years.

But it should have a health warning.

Ah, me.

Today I was supposed to be tidying up in The Tower. I guess there will still be time later on, but for now the cricket has taken over. Instead of doing anything constructive, I have been slumped in front of the TV watching England make a meal out of finishing off the Aussies' tail end. Still, at tea, the Aussies are all out, and England have the paltry target of 129 to win. Being England, I fully expect them to make a meal out of that, too.

In the meantime, I am going to nip across the road to Waitrose and buy a few provisions, before the final session gets under way properly. I have spent too much of today courting DVT, the change will do me good, even if it's for no more than 20 minutes.

Later, peeps.

My nerves are shattered.

England won the second test by just TWO runs. Both England and Australia opted for the Hollywood countdown finish. I need to lie down for a bit...