Something strange is happening. We’ve been back from the Philippines for 17 days now and we haven’t seen a drop of rain – and I mean, not a single drop. And this is late March and early April, a time of year which historically brings in England the characteristic blustery winds of the former and the sharp, soaking showers of the latter, usually with a helping of hailstones like ping pong balls and often with the winter’s last throw of the snowfall dice. But no, none of it. Not even a day of drizzle. Not a drop. The earth is dry, the garden dusty.  The cricket season has started in…