Not the best of pub lunches today. My colleague insists on the Waterfall which will at least have the cricket on, which turns out to be not much of a bonus considering Australia’s last wicket stand. The Abbot is off (again) and the Doom Bar is off as well, but they didn’t tell you that by turning round the pump clip, you had to taste it to find that out yourself. We send it back and end up on dreaded creamflow. So bad, I consider asking for the gone off Doom Bar back. The food isn’t great either.
After work, L gets home from the gym and we do a seamless changeover with the boys as I head for the tennis court for the first time this year.
It’s been a battle to get a court and it looks like we’ll only get an hour. We won't be able to overrun because all the courts are showing up as booked for the rest of the evening, at least according to the online booking. I blame that Murray chap. Although this proves not to be the case and there are plenty of free courts, so we do manage to complete my 2-6 3-6 defeat. Clearly it’s just another council ploy to lose money.
Afterwards my opponent suggests the Victoria at Beeston for a drink, which I’m more than up for. His partner’s lad and his friend are there, drinking beer. Blimey, how did they do that?
Back home, L has prepared salmon curry but then keeps pinging me suggestive texts that are distracting me from my Lincoln Green Porter. I finish my pint and make my excuses. That curry might have to wait.
(Thursday 11th July)