The Ashes: A uniquely special Lord's experience

It's an absurdity that only cricket can engender, but you could easily pass an entire day at the world's most storied ground without watching a single ball.

A day at the Ashes at Lord's is about the cricket, if you want it to be, but if you're otherwise inclined, it can just be an experience of all that is good about England in the summer. On a hot day - and having lived through Delhi summers of 45 degrees Centigrade and more, it seems rich to describe 30 so - England reveals its finest character.

There's a fortune to be made, when the science of bottling sensory cues advances appropriately. The murmur of 20,000 people in stifled conversation, all telling each other how hot it is, naturally; the aroma, of English mustard on a steaming hot dog, when the wind blows one way, doing battle with double-battered and triple-fried fish and chips, when it does the other; the radiating sight of a pint of lager light up by the morning sun; the firmness of the parched yet lush outfield underfoot. If you could distill the essence of that into a potion or spray, there would be a fortune to be made.

It goes without saying that the cold, wet, grey days - of which there are many in this part of the world - will leave you underwhelmed, there's little point thinking of those when the sun's out.

Lord's calls itself the home of cricket, and while that address may notionally change based on just who is the homeowner at any given point of time, there's no doubting its place in the larger scheme of things. Newlands has Table Mountain as a backdrop, the Eden Gardens has 70,000 vocal Bengalis providing atmosphere free of charge, the Basin Reserve is the cricket world's best roundabout, the Arbab Niaz Stadium in Peshawar has more character (and AK47s per capita) than any other venue. In that sense, Lord's is a most unremarkable cricket ground.

Surrounded by posh yet drably uniform residential blocks, the Lord's skyline is dull. The old pavilion is proper red brick, but this is true of almost every Victorian terrace in the neighbourhood. The 'spaceship' media centre was ahead of its times in 1999, when it was designed and delivered by Jan Kaplicky and his wife, Amanda Levete, who called the MCC visionaries because they gave the job to "a bloody foreigner and a skirt" but the rest of the world has since not merely caught up, but galloped ahead.

In that press box, on the first day, were Yohan Blake, one of the fastest men in the world, Richie Benaud, who has watched more cricket than should be legally allowed, Michael McIntyre trading jokes with David 'Lubo' Gower. Sourav Ganguly, a part-time London resident was a guest of the International Cricket Council and Steve Waugh popped by to say g'day. The Queen was at the other end watching three English wickets fall cheaply. You would not have batted an eyelid if someone told you God dropped by on his break.

To go on a guided tour of the facilities, when the cricket is not on, is an experience in itself. While the English love to credit the Aussies with sledging, the tour guides - average age 70-plus - at Lord's would give them a good run for their money. The one time your correspondent dared to take in the experience, he was asked why he did not remember Vinoo Mankad's debut, an event that took place in June 1946.

To be at Lord's on a cricket day, India playing England in a Test, or a One-Day International, is an experience in itself, but to be at NW8 for an Ashes day was something else. When Thomas Lord, the businessman, first staged a game between Middlesex and Essex in 1787 - no, that's not a typo, it really has been 226 years - it was in an area then known as Dorset Fields, now recognised as Dorset Square. In 1809, Lord, who was a successful wine trader, opened a ground in the Eyre Estate in St John's Wood. That ground was doomed, as its landlord refused to allow the opening of a tavern in the premises, nudging the cathedral of cricket to its current venue in 1812.

Almost every journalist who has travelled across the globe to Lord's expecting the world has felt some slight at one point or another. As is so often the case, giving someone a uniform and little power can lead to them becoming more controlling than their masters. But, on yesterday's evidence, this is changing rapidly.

Like a batsman who has had a good innings, averages 50 and has done his team proud, Lord's knows its true worth and yet works hard to stay relevant. The people who man the trenches today at Lord's acknowledge that there's intelligent life outside their patch, and it was not always so. The key to the Lord's success story is the being arrogant at what they have, humble while taking your money and somehow staying relevant in an increasingly difficult market.

At Lord's, the paying spectator is simultaneously king and subject, millionaire and pauper, master and servant, consumer and boss.

It's a business model that will never fail, even if the whole experience was mastered, replicated and outsourced, perhaps to Bangalore.

As long as there is cricket, Lord's will be uniquely special, through history, tradition, design, hard work and sheer luck. Not necessarily in that order.