THE South Africans arrive this week and one of the most interesting rivalries in cricket will resume. One of the oldest too, because Sir C Aubrey Smith, destined to play umpteen major-generals and chiefs of police in Hollywood films, had captained an England side in South Africa more than 10 years before the outbreak of the Second Boer War.

The South African tour normally has pride of place in the hearts of those cricketers who are fortunate enough to have made several trips abroad. Respectable opponents, reliable food, and an absence of the enervating heat that makes the sub-continent such an ordeal, all help to make it so

On past tours to South Africa the players lived like lords, their every whim catered for by an abundance of coloured servants. Bliss - just so long as the visiting player did not look too closely at what was going on. A win for the visitors was normally guaranteed, and in England occasionally the Springboks would upset things as in their win at Lord's in 1935, but it was very occasionally.

Even after the Second World War which put an end to the timeless 10-day Tests which had disfigured the tour to the Union in 1939, the South Africans were still regarded as nice chaps. Athol and Eric Rowan could bat a bit and bowl a bit, Bruce Mitchell was immovable from the crease, and the odd pace bowler such as Cuan McCarthy was developing. The artful spinner, Hughie Tayfield, could be relied upon to do the serious bowling work.

The game, to all practical purposes, was exclusively white. In Pretoria non-whites could not get into the cricket ground at all, at the Wanderers in Johannesburg non-whites had a very bad viewing position away out at deep square leg, and at Newlands in Cape Town, oddly enough, they had exclusive use of the best position on the ground behind the bowlers arm. I tried to join them one time and was advised to hop it. I indicated that I would do the two or three thousand blacks no harm and rather more tersely was advised to hop it.

This was in 1969-70 and I was watching Currie Cup cricket since I had learned from the Rand Daily Mail on stepping off the London plane that MCC would not be coming to South Africa for the Test series, Basil D'Oliveira having been declared persona non grata in the English team.

Thence forward there were no Tests between the nations for almost 30 years. Politically it was the only honourable solution, but from a cricketing point of view a matter of deep regret because, with marvellous irony, South Africa could just then claim to have the best side in the world.

Certainly they had the two Pollocks, Graeme and Peter, the avenging batsmen Barry Richards and Mike Proctor, the miraculous cover fielder Colin Bland, and such ''bit players'' as Eddie Barlow and Ali Bacher. By the way, did I mention that Proctor was also a Test class bowler? This side in its last hurrah beat the Australians by four matches to nil.

Now the 'Boks are back and as cricket was quintessentially the English game in South Africa it is not surprising that it has made more of a genuine effort to accommodate the new changed country than has the Afrikaner-based Rugby union. Sure, you can find van der Bijls, van Rynevelds, and van der Meerwes in South African cricket teams, but up until now they have been Anglofied men with Afrikaner names.

Not this time, not quite so much. In the current team the old names surface, there is a Bacher, there is a Pollock, both will be important. Most names are English, but that is not an infallible guide now. Pace bowler Mornantau Hayward sounds Anglo enough, but is reputed not to answer any questions except those phrased in Afrikaans. Paul Adams, too, sounds English but he is Cape coloured, and Makhaya Ntini, a pace bowler, becomes the first native African to play in a Test match.

The South African side is not yet as wearyingly familiar as the Australians have perforce become, there is almost the air of a pre-war tour about this one. Some names, however, are known. Jonty Rhodes, a marvellous moniker for a perky batsman, and Daryll Cullinan has his admirers here. Three months ago we would have been laughing at the South African selectors for sending over the 35-year-old Brian McMillan on a mission too far, but then three months ago we had not seen Walsh and Ambrose, with the same number of candles on the cake, bowl at us so devastatingly in the Caribbean.

The Union is still a repository of classical batsmanship. About 10 years ago Jimmy Cook came from Cape Town to Somerset. He was then in his late 30s. For three years in succession he topped 2000 runs with scarcely an ungraceful stroke in the whole of them.

Finally, the Scotland side did us proud in the Benson & Hedges, with three great performances against Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Durham. Perhaps we might just have got a little frightened within winning distance of two of them. Still, I'll get a lot less Jock-baiting this summer at Taunton and Lord's, so to Jim Love and his boys, well done and many thanks.