When I was an undergraduate, my girlfriend and I used to spend most evenings 'working' in her room, while her roommate was off 'working' in her boyfriend's room. In those days we were all very keen on 'swotting', or whatever you call it now.

When I got bored with biogeography, or microclimatology, but she was still engrossed in Alexander Pope, or John Dryden, I used to run my hand along her little shelf of American literature, looking for a quickie to divert my attention. The quickies I enjoyed as much as any were the short stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald, or William Saroyan, or John Steinbeck.

Saroyan's and Steinbeck's were tales of (very different) rural Californias, so as a city boy I was more sympathetic to the work of Fitzgerald. One story I remember was about a guy wandering through Manhattan slowly coming to the realisation that for the first time in years he wasn't drunk. Where had he been? What had he been doing? And for how long? At first sight everything was different (plus ça change), but the more he examined it, the more everything was the same (mais plus c'est la même chose).

I've just had a weekend like that. I've been sober for over two years now, and I went to my first cricket matches in that time. On Saturday I went down the ‘Mines, to watch Leinster play Old Belvedere in what used to be the 45-over competition. It's now the DGM League. Plus ça change.

I didn't recognise half the players on either side, but there's obviously a good Jesuit school in the Punjab, or is it the Singh Street Christian Brothers'? Belvo set off at a merry lick, and at one stage were 60 for 2 off 11 overs, but then subsided to 70 for 4, having lost Sammi Singh for 24, Samir Dutt for 19 and Yogesh for 16, Will Lennon and Byron Vermaak sharing the wickets.

Gavin Gilmore chipped in with three more to leave Belvo on 115 for 7, but Saddaf Raza (27) batted very well with the tail to take the score to 151 all out off 34.5 overs, sixty short of a decent score. Plus c'est la même chose. Leinster hadn't bothered with a third man until Del Boy McGeehan came in at no. 10. I know that's the only place Del will score with his forward prod off the outside edge, but forty of the previous 140 had gone through there! Vermaak ended up with 5 for 35, Lennon 2 for 12 and Gilmore 3 for 25; that leaves 0 for plenty from the others.

At a prolonged tea interval (Colette Colleran had been told 3:00 p.m. by an umpire who shall be nameless - plus c'est la même chose) we discovered that Jason Molins had never faced Del Boy, and we were all eagerly anticipating the two of them opening proceedings. But it wasn't to be.

Ritchie O'Donnell induced a waft out of Mark Jones (plus c'est la même chose), and after a few lovely shots Jason took an age to decide where to put a long hop from Gulab Singh, and chose his own middle stump. One more apiece for Ritchie and Gulab, and it was 48 for 4 and deepish doo-dah (plus c'est la même chose). But Anton Scholtz batted beautifully, ably assisted by J.P. O'Dwyer, when at 108 Anton (46) scooped a long hop from Sammi Singh into Del Boy's buckets on the mid wicket fence.

Nobody bothered to tell Ian O'Herlihy this was a crisis, because he wouldn't have listened anyway (plus c'est la même chose), and he merrily set about the Punjab's finest for 32*, surviving a far from easy chance to Del Boy (that's what Del told me in the bar afterwards - I couldn‘t see), leaving JP on 29* and Leinster home and hosed for 154 for 5 off 40 (plus ça change). O'Donnell had 2 for 27, Gulab 2 for 16, Sammi 1 for 34 and Samir chukka (because of his love of polo) Dutt a tidy 0 for 27 off his 9 overs. And Del Boy never got a bowl: Jason misses out for another season!

On Sunday I made my way to a damp Claremont Road, but after an hour and a half it stopped raining, so we had an early tea and embarked on a 30-over match at 2:40 p.m. The Hills won the toss, inserted YMCA, and quickly served up one half volley too many to Carl Hosford, who slapped it straight into the ever-capacious maws of Matt Dwyer at extra cover.

On 59 for 2 off 16, YM were looking good for 150, which would have been difficult enough to chase in the conditions. Then Ehtesham Ahmed took it upon himself to run out Jeff Shortt for a well-made 25, and smeared Matt up and not quite past Luke Clinton at cover, where he made a good running catch over his shoulder. That brought Matt's favourite ex-captain of Ireland on strike, for him to chip a catch to silly point.

When Simon Wilson Moore lost his hyphen it was 59 for 6, and 150 was out of the question. But Paul Beacroft (30*) and Rob Nandi (26*) applied some antipodean nous to take the score to 118 off the 30 overs. Matt Dwyer took 2 for 18, Joseph Clinton 2 for 30, and Max Sorensen 1 for 15.

Jeremy Bray set off as if he had a train to catch, with four sixes to take him past 50 out of 68 (nine no balls and a leg bye) when he became the third unwanted and unappreciated lbwectomy (I‘m only going on the batsmen‘s reactions: I was sitting at backward square leg/extra cover). 76 for 2 became 87 for 5 became 104 for 8, and Duckworth/Lewis nearly caught up as the Pembroke Wanderers lights blazed ever brighter across the railway line.

But The Hills bat all the way down (plus c'est la même chose) - their problem is batting all the way up (plus c'est la même chose). Luke Clinton and Emmet Branigan took them home with four overs to spare. Paul Beacroft completed a good match with 3 for 22, Rob chukka (another polo fan) Nandi 1 for 21 and the underused Jonny Harte 2 for 7 off 3 overs.

I sat with The Hills guys (and two chukchi refugees from Cold Blow Lane) in O'Reilly's until three (southern hemisphere) YMers eventually came in. There was a time when YMCA wouldn't play on a Sunday, but they would take a drink OK. Now, plus ça change, they'll play on a Sunday but don't take a drink. Never mind, like Scott Fitzgerald's hero, I'm beginning to work it out.