Something odd happens in the time between Christmas and the end of January. A great sleepiness descends upon the nation; the business of the past year and the coming year is forgotten, routines fall into abeyance, there is a general lassitude of speech and spirit, time itself seems drowsy and apt to falter. A huge boredom is apparent.

That is not to say that you can't be busy if you choose to be - sampling the delights of summer festivals, off on a foreign adventure or simply seeking diversion wherever it might be had. For most of us though, it is a time (thank you, Mr. Larkin, once again) unrecommended by event. The other day at Lawson Pool I overheard a group of boys talking about Test Cricket and their conversation continued unabated even as they showered and changed and left the pool. Truthfully, it wasn't very interesting, quite pedestrian in fact. But thinking it over, it occurred to me that really this was something to be celebrated.

The engagement in a conversation was real, not forced and it required a certain level of expertise to participate. To keep a dialogue running, largely without digression, is also an underpraised skill. Finally, the conversation was not about the joys of jihad, the greatness of one religion over another, sexist observations, drugs, or anything beyond the simple pleasure of talking about cricket.

So for this reason, I nominate the love of sport as the greatest faith to emerge on the earth. In Australia at least, it turns bloodshed and extremism into a rich blend of boredom, which is just fine by me.

St Don genuflects before the faithful.