The grove is not, strictly speaking, on any map. From the village, take the lane past the cricket pavilion. At the fork, bear left where the hedgerow smells of citrus. If you can hear leather on willow, you are close. If you can smell orange blossom, you are closer. The gate is unmarked but you will know it when you see it.
Dawn to stumps, weather permitting
Whites preferred but not required
Boycott is friendly but has no interest in retrieving the ball
"Magnificent oranges. Still not entirely sure how they get the seam so straight."
R. Henderson, Surrey
"Bought a crate for the dressing room. The lads couldn't tell the difference until someone tried to bowl with one. Extraordinary fruit."
J. Atherton, Lancashire
"Visited on a whim after following the scent from the B road. Left with marmalade, a sweatshirt, and a deep sense of peace."
S. Patel, London
"Took one to nets on Saturday as an experiment. Swung more than a Dukes in April. Tasted better, too."
T. Clarke, Kent
Everyone says they're watching the cricket. Nobody can tell you the score. Sunscreen borrowed three times. One round that somehow cost forty quid. Orange wine by the glass. Leave your name at the gate.