Music and movement at the Mona Bowl

The idyllic Mona Bowl is only a short drive from downtown Kingston. It's surrounded by Jamaica's picturesque Blue Mountains, and tucked in behind the University of West Indies, and it's where England had the pleasure of playing the University Vice-Chancellor's team.

As I was driven past the impressive gates and white-brick walls of the university and down to the ground, I was welcomed by some early-'90s pop music blaring out of the speakers. "Ice Ice Baby", by Vanilla Ice, was first up, followed by that old classic - and personal favourite - "I've Been Thinking About You", by cheesy crooners London Beat. Perhaps they knew I was coming.

If the tunes were a bit behind the times, then so was the ground - but in a refreshing way. My first impression was of a less-loved version of the Getty ground at Wormsley, with its nearby slopes and open spaces. But instead of green fields, here it was football pitches, and a collection of unfeasibly skinny cows and goats.

On the outfield, the groundstaff were still painting the England players' names for the scoreboard ten minutes before the start. A few gazebos had been erected around the boundary, mostly with empty plastic chairs beneath. The turquoise-and-red Frank Worrell Stand, in pride of place between the press and radio tents, was also only half-full. The small pavilion lies further to the right of the stand, and is adorned in the same colour scheme, with the Jamaica and England flags wriggling wildly in the strong breeze.

As Matthew Hoggard prepared to open fire, the jumping beats were cut, and an announcement crackled through welcoming the England team and the opening batsmen. It received a smattering of applause from a severely depleted Barmy Army platoon - perhaps some of the others, spotted last night in a Kingston hotel, had failed their map-reading test, or, more likely, were simply shirking their duties after too many Red Stripes. However, no England tour game would be complete without the St George's Cross somewhere, with a football-team's name across the middle - and today it was Cheltenham's turn to fly the flag.

Feeling the heat, I strolled back to the windswept press tent, and one of the locals asked me where Mr Anderson was. "He's around somewhere," I replied, which was greeted with fits of giggles from the girls in the group. "A favourite of yours?" I asked, but was completely ignored, so carried on. Then I tried to earwig on a bunch of elder statesmen, eager to hear their thoughts on the game. But after trying to make out what on earth they were actually talking about, all I got was a dodgy look from one - and hurried on my way again.

That coincided with the end of Simon Jones's long-awaited first comeback over, after which those '90s grooves came thumping back on. Just sit down and listen to the music, I told myself.