Day one. London. Packing.

Can’t deny feeling terrible this morning. I dropped the kids off at nursery and am now back at home putting off doing my packing.

I shouldn’t be going. People’s jaws drop when I tell them I’m leaving the family for two weeks to go and watch cricket. I’m really embarrassed about telling people I’m going away. “You’re going with work?,”  people ask. “Er, no…” “You’re taking your family backpacking round India…??!” “Erm, actually no …”

Bless my wife, she gave me permission. I doubt she thought I was going to actually go through with it, and to be honest I didn’t think I would either. But, here I am on the morning of the big trip, with tickets, visa, and day one of a blog all set to go.

One backpack. Two weeks. Three world cup matches. A lot of travelling about across a wonderful, crazy country. It’s a dream come true and yet I feel shit.

I’ve got Australia versus Zimbabwe on the TV in the background, gently reminding me I should cancel my Sky subscription for a couple of weeks. Australia aren’t exactly creaming it around like Sehwag or Jayawardene but they’ve already posted 150 for 3 with around 18 overs left. Sadly it will probably be enough. I have a sneaking suspicion they might win this tournament, and Ricky will get the farewell he deserves: but I’m generally lousy at predictions.

So why am I going? There’s a multitude of reasons really, the main one being I really, really wanted to watch India against England at Eden Gardens. It was a lifetime’s ambition. Thanks to the Bengal Cricket Association for stuffing that up. By the time the ICC pulled the plug, my train and plane tickets were booked, hotel deposit paid (now lost - boycott Hotel Trimoorti) and complete rescheduling of holiday has had to take place. Other reasons to take into account: midlife crisis; love of Indian travel; the agony of so nearly managing to sort this out as a work trip, only to have the plug pulled; SAD kicking-in in darkest November (when I booked my tickets); I could go on.

So the plan. 14 days. Delhi. Jaipur. Delhi. South Africa versus Windies. Agra. Bangalore. England versus India. Kerala. Mahallampuram. Chennai. England versus South Africa.  Home. Planes, trains and autorickshaws.

I want this trip to be a celebration of cricket. I love cricket. I love any country that loves cricket, and India probably loves it the most. I’m planning to find a game of cricket everyday, at any standard, on a street, on a beach, on a maidan, or in a massive corporate concrete bowl and make it part of my day and then part of my daily blog.

Haven’t got a ticket for any of the games yet, starting to panic. If you know of anyone who’s got a spare one for any of those games, let me know.