Started the week up in Scotland where, after a dire performance on the Old Course on Monday morning, I cruised around a windswept Kingsbarns after a good lunch in what proved, on counting retrospectively, to be 6 or 7 over par. Sorry am I boring you? Ended the week having completed on my house sale and amongst the ranks of the in-betweeners, living in a rented house in Cambridge. Rang the new owner of my old house, an ardent English rugby supporter, this morning to tell him that one of the fringe benefits of buying our house was that owned a square foot of Murrayfield rugby pitch, planted in his front lawn. He was thrilled.
I was expecting to tell you how lucky you all were and excited you should be at the prospect of a distinctly improved service from DS. Living now in such august academic company, I was bathed in reflective brain power. Sadly this aura has not taken long to wash off. Cycling into work today on a ghastly rainy and dark morning I couldn't work out how to turn the bike lights on and I now realise why bikes really should have mudguards. Not the brightest spark. Nasty streak down the backside of my trousers....
No comments:
Post a Comment