It was late February. Outside, frost-dappled trees swayed in the light breeze of a suburban winter evening as a lorry scattered salt onto the tarmac blocking an impatient procession of irascible SUV’s wending their way home. Inside I relaxed in the warm comfort of half-remembered anecdotes and birthday well-wishing of kith and kin. After a cursory glance at the menu, my father asked what I was doing over the next few weeks. ‘I’m off to Estonia’, I replied nonchalantly. ‘Whatever for?’ came the slightly bemused reply. ‘To play cricket on ice’ I said while vying for a waiter’s attention...
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