WANT a bit of excitement? Then don't look to the World Cup - it's a spot of cricket you want.

I don't mean England v Sri Lanka or Lancashire against another county side, but village cricket - the game that takes place every Saturday afternoon at the local sports ground.

I was brought up in a cricketing family - my dad and brother both play - but in my youth I would avoid it like the plague. Back then, I'd rather spend Saturdays hanging around the Wimpey bar in the high street of the nearest town than watch two very minor league teams attempt to make a century between them.

But now, although I'm in denial, I'm what they call middle-aged and find there are few better ways to spend a Saturday afternoon than at a village cricket match.

Part of me is horrified by this, particularly as it seems to coincide with my new-found love of crown green bowls and gardening. The other part, however, is irritated by the thought of what I've been missing all these years.

Village cricket isn't the dull, sedate affair for which I'd dismissed it. Fair enough, you don't get to paint your face, wear red and white wigs and wrap yourself in flags. You don't get to scream, shout and leap around - unless you're the bowler appealing for an lbw. But what you do get is not to be sniffed at.

For a start you get all the gossip. Wend your way around the ground, stopping at every bench and parked car, and you learn enough about village goings-on for a kiss-and-tell blockbuster.

You get bucketloads of fresh air and you can soak up the sun - something you can't do sitting in front of the wide-screen in a smoky pub. There's also room for the children to run around, with only the odd stray cricket ball to worry about.

The pace isn't too bad either - at the village match I watched last weekend, my husband was telling my eldest daughter exactly how sluggish the game can be when the batsman struck four sixes in two overs (that's 12 deliveries to those who speak only the language of offsides and corners).

Admittedly, there's not a great deal on offer if you like ogling fit blokes. Yet, while you're unlikely to spot a Beckham lookalike - even less likely a man in a sarong - it's surely a good thing that village cricket isn't ageist. It's not like football, where, if you were alive when England won the World Cup in 1966, you're good only for bringing out the slices of orange. (Do they still do that? It's probably Pro-Plus and cans of oxygen now.)

Sons, fathers and grandfathers are involved. My dad is in his 60s, yet he still gets called up. Shame about cricket teas though. Equality has found its way into the pavilion and at many clubs, these delicious party-style spreads of sandwiches and buns are a thing of the past. Women have made a stand and it's up to the players to provide their own grub. That applies to spectators, too - I was most put out.

It's hard to believe it's the cricket season, with the football World Cup having elbowed out all other sports.

But, if you get bored with it all, or when England have been knocked out and you're left watching players whose names you can't pronounce, from countries you've barely heard of, remember there's fun to be had at a cricket ground near you.