Exactly one year ago I was in Bangkok to witness a last-gasp win for the Irish women against Bangladesh in a thrilling contest that ebbed and flowed before Lucy O'Reilly belted the last ball to the boundary, sealing victory in the T20 World Cup Qualifier.
I'm now back in Thailand, where I got married last month. Of many well wishers, the one who made me laugh the most was my good friend Ger Siggins, the Dublin sports journalist and author of the Rugby Flyer series of children's books.
Ger quoted Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, who was once asked what it was like to be married. He replied: "Having a good wife is as enjoyable and heartening as scoring a 50 in cricket.
"In fact, having a good wife is as good as scoring a 99. But beyond that, I will not go!"
No comment from me as I've never scored a century - The Ardmore Express was more famed for his bowling exploits than with willow in hand.
I was involved in a good few century stands though, forging a very successful if at times obdurate opening partnership with Dessie Brolly at Ardmore for the best part of a decade.
Dessie loved to steal runs - especially if he was the striker. We often didn't need to call, just a look or a nod was enough and we'd set off. I don't remember us being run out too often, although I'm pretty sure when it did happen it was myself who would be trudging back to the pavilion.
The elements of a good marriage are, I'd suggest, the same in a good batting partnership. Trust, compromise, communication. After a while, telepathy too, perhaps.
The most enjoyable century partnership was with my oldest brother George at Killyclooney in the late 90's. He'd made a comeback after a long spell out of the game and I remember thinking "fair play to him at his age still playing cricket." When I think back though he was only 45 at the time, which I considered positively ancient! He still plays occasionally at 62, although he adopted more of a Davis Cup captain role with Ardmore Thirds last year.
The best partnerships in Irish cricket that I've witnessed were between Andy Christie and Decker Curry in their Limavady days.I can still hear Andy's familiar call of "yeah, yeah, yeah" as he and Decker set off on another run. I remember one Irish senior cup game against Instonians when the pair ran the Shaw' Bridge side ragged with their increasingly audacious pinched singles.
Paul Stirling and William Porterfield have had their fair share of success opening for Ireland over the past six or seven years, and I can't recall too many mix-ups between the pair.
While some friends have mischievously claimed that my nuptials must be added to the list of 2016 surprises, somewhere between Leicester City and Donald Trump, the year has also, of course, brought a lot of sadness with what seems more than a fair share of death.
That theme continued this week with news of the passing of Robbie Duffy, the brother of Gerry and one of a small band of Irish cricketers who have struck six sixes in an over, Adrian Walker of Fox Lodge, Gerry Toland of Waterside CC, and Netherlands cricketer Maurits Houben at just 48.
Any mention of six sixes in an over always brings back an unhappy memory of playing in a Midweek Cup game as a 13-year-old at Cumber Claudy, I came face-to-face with an opponent who looked like "The Mountain" from Game of Thrones, and in a sure sign that the forward defensive wasn't to the forefront of his repertoire, he wasn't wearing batting gloves. Sure enough, the first three balls of my over disappeared into adjacent fields.
The Midweek Cup in those days was played over two nights with 30 eight-ball overs. I had nightmares about being hit for eight sixes in an over and an unwanted world record. Thankfully, the giant was felled fourth ball but since then I've always been wary of batsmen who don't wear gloves. Lawrence Moore fits into that category.
The mention of Gerry Toland's club Waterside recalls one of my favourite cricketing tales from the NW when Charlie Kelly and his wife Grace made sandwiches for tea at Corrody. The sarnies weren't ready when Charlie was leaving so Grace volunteered to deliver them.
As so often happens in the NW, it rained, and an early tea was taken. The game re-started and around 3.30pm Grace could be seen entering the ground with a big bag of assorted food in hand. Now it should be pointed out that Grace's walk from Chapel Road was quite a hike, and mostly uphill, so when Charlie shouted to her that there was no need to deliver the sandwiches now, her mood wasn't the greatest.
Without adjusting her pace, she strode onto the pitch and used the bag to clobber Charlie in her best Dick Emery handbag-bashing style. The sandwiches scattered everywhere, while players and officials stood back and witnessed the drama in silence.
Grace departed and still nothing was said for several overs, until Waterside captain Micky Doherty changed bowlers and needed to adjust his field. He said to one of his men, "move back a yard or two... no the other way... just beside that egg and onion sandwich."
Of course the Waterside, like Cumber Claudy are long gone as cricketing clubs, and the NW is a poorer place for it - but that's a topic for another day.