"Are you celebrating?"
"Yes. It's good."
"Why aren't you barracking for Australia?"
"I don't like the Aussies."
"You live here."
"I don't think the Aussies can.. cope with..."
"We haven't had to for 20 years, so why should we? We don't want to."
"You guys? You're one of us!
My brother is over from South Africa and he hasn't stopped laughing at us."
"I'm not laughing."
In 2005, I managed to watch the last day at the Oval as hope slipped further and further away. That was the end of a long summer, in September, and at least there was the distraction of watching my team dramatically progressing through the AFL finals, travelling across London in the middle of the night to watch the Grand Final less than two weeks later, culminating in the club's first premiership in 72 years.
This year, I went to bed at lunch, only hours after Sydney had given up even the most theoretical chance of making the finals, and woke up to find Australia slid down to 4th. At least I am not surrounded by Englishmen this time.
I remember Australia building out of the 80s, and supporting the utterly hopeless Swans of the early 90s. I suppose what goes up, comes down. I might have something to say about the actual cricket once I want to think about sport again...