“Half an hour? You can’t do anything in half an hour.”

It was the autumn of 1993. I was 45 years old, and my summer’s cricket had not gone well. For the first time I had developed back problems, and in 22 games I had taken just 23 wickets. I was wondering if it was time to call it a day.

I worked in adult education. “You’re never too old to learn,” I told the students. So, shaking off my end-of-season depression, I decided to take my own advice: get some winter coaching, see if I could learn some new skills.

That summer we had moved to Bath , and I was not sure how to find a suitable coach. Somehow, after several phone calls, I found myself ringing a Ken Biddulph, who lived somewhere in the Cotswolds. Apparently he had played for Somerset .

I looked in Wisden – ‘Births and Deaths of Cricketers’ – and there he was: Biddulph, K.D. (Som.)  b May 29, 1932

“I understand what you want,” he told me. “If I can get you a few more runs, a few more wickets, keep you enjoying the game for a few more years, you’ll be happy, won’t you?”

“Yes, exactly.”

So far, so reassuring.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I can get away early on Fridays. Maybe I could come up for half an hour with you each week.”

“Half an hour?” he repeated with disbelief. “You can’t do anything in half an hour.”

“Well, an hour perhaps.”

He rang back three days later.

“Stephen? I’ve booked the Stratford Park Leisure Centre in Stroud for Friday afternoon, 4 to 5.30.”

My apprehension was growing. At the end of a long week’s work, including two late evenings, I would have to rush home from Bristol , collect my kit and change, drive the 30 miles to Stroud, then bowl for an hour and a half on my own in a net. The prospect daunted me, and I started to wonder whether he realised just how ordinary a cricketer I was.

It was ten to four when I made my way, cricket bag in hand, to the main entrance of the leisure centre. There I was greeted by a tall, slim and very erect man. He had a good head of wavy, silver-grey hair and wore a Somerset blazer over some old-fashioned cricket whites.

“Stephen? Nice to meet you. I’ve got some good news. There’s nobody in after us till six o’clock.”

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