We arose uplifted to another beautiful day here in sunny Lincoln, having played out of our skins yesterday against a tricky Indian side, failing to record a tournament upset by a mere 30 runs. It was a big squad effort and to come close to the target of 199 set by such a compact side, fuelled especially with delightful spin bowling just for Beggy's pleasure (not!), was more than commendable given our previous disappointment last week.

'Nuff said, we're moving on up and are ready for our final two matches against The Netherlands and South Africa. Mood in the camp has been rejuvenated, with a winning spirit and "can do" attitude in the air. We are fighting with as much Irish pride as we can collectively muster and we all know that we have a job to do.

Ifs, buts and maybes could have taken up a whole night's conversation. But instead we settled for an invitation to a barbie with the Kiwis at their palatial quarters up from Ireland House.

Typically there was a stipulation in that we had to march, in time, to the party and announce our arrival. With Ciara ("Medser") as our cheerleader, complete with Tricolour, silly hat and bashing two saucepan lids together, the troops were welcomed to rapturous applause when a cry of "Who let the Irish out?" was met by the squads' "ooo ooo ooo ooo" retort!

All a bit of silly fun which got the party off to a cracking start and, having filled our bellies and quenched our thirst, we adjourned to our usual campus haunt - Mrs O's - where the bar staff welcomed us with open arms and, for some, offered a few pre-poured "cheeky whites"... thanks Frankie, you're a gem!

For me personally, it was a great feeling to win another cap, get back in the saddle and to take on the canny Indians for a third successive world cup. Oh how I love the feel of leather on skin and the smell of sweaty inners - will I miss those gloves when they're hung out to dry? Probably.

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