I went up to Scotland on Saturday morning, after crowing loudly in my missive the day before you might recall, pretty confident that I would win our family golf competition, which for almost a decade I had essentially made my own. Alas I headed back south on Tuesday – annoyingly the day before the new bridge opened - with my tail between my legs. If I’m honest with you it’s been the same story for a few years now. I might blame Father Time catching up with me except that the winner this year was my Dad, 81 today in fact. Happy to him.
No. I’m just rubbish at golf these days, though a bit unlucky to boot. Striding forthrightly down the 1st I found that my ball had trickled off the course and was lying one inch out of bounds. A passing group of South Africans offered to kick it back into play and I must say I was very tempted to accept their help, but honour got the better of me. Little good did a clear conscience do. I scored a pathetic 9 stableford points on the way out. A greasy sausage roll with a healthy dollop of HP sauce at the half way hut revived my fortunes briefly, but by the time we got to the 18th my number was pretty much up and just to rub salt into the wounds my drive ended lying on the tarmac of Granny Clarks Wynd from where, you will know, it must be played or a penalty taken. As I approached, a 9 iron at the ready, two Italian ladies walking by stooped and handed me my ball. I required a birdie at the very least and for the second time that day a sneaky little devil jumped onto my shoulder. Don’t worry. I brushed it off and ended up in the Valley of Sin anyway so whatever.
Enough of the golf talk. Speaking of tails between the legs Hen has achieved one of the key elements of her plan when setting out on her road trip through Europe. She has taken on a Spanish greyhound ( galgos ) from a dog rescue centre in Cartegena. I wasn’t going to include the photo below, but I can’t resist it. Too sweet. Myrtle and Hen. And, if the mood takes you, you might like to lob the charity, Galgos del Sol, a penny or two. They do an amazing service in a country where it seems dogs are really not cared for very much to say the least.
Very satisfactory lunch today, other than being let down by someone hence depriving me of some decent banter and a mound of sushi. The compensation was that with some unexpected time on my hands, and a fancy dress party to go to tomorrow evening, I found the most terrific shop up by Old Street station emerging from which I Boris Biked it back to the office bearing a Bugsy Malone trilby, shiny white tie and braces and an inflatable machine gun. Sorted.
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