There’s Always Golf

L utters three words that she often utters ‘Bloody Daily Mail’ but this time it’s nothing political. Apparently the Daily Mail, in conjunction with B&Q who ran an advertisement feature in the paper, have persuaded her Mum to buy copious amounts of compost that L will now have to spread on her garden. This was, in theory, a nice little money spinner for B&Q but one that failed badly because L’s Mum bought it, as she does most things, from Amazon.

Monday is my cycling session which seems to score my lungs every week and leave me unable to digest any food afterwards but, I think, I’m getting better at minimising this. Eating more before a session helps.

On Tuesday we wake up to the news that three are dead and three are in hospital in Nottingham after a man went on a rampage with a knife and then with a van taken from a man he knifed. It all started on Ilkeston Road near us where two students were stabbed and then moved to Daughter’s old area of Magdala Road. All shocking and dreadful.

I make it to the gym at lunchtime but that was as far as I was allowed to go along Ilkeston Road where they have the road closed and where they have raided a house. There were press everywhere as Nottingham lead all the news bulletins even bumped that idiot Boris Johnson down the news.

Wednesday morning’s walk involves the Lad and I having to escape across the golf course to avoid the deer.

L hits the gym proclaiming she has a dress to get into. That’s the spirit. Although it may be a metaphorical dress as I think the one I bought is going back. Meanwhile I’m at my Physio, who clearly sees himself as more of a personal trainer than just a physio and, yes, he is definitely trying to kill me. He increased all my weights again.

L brings home a posh Nespresso coffee maker, the type that you put the little capsules in, that they don't want at work. We think my Dad would love it but first I best check it works. Unfortunately it doesn’t, at least not very well. It takes me half an hour to make a double expresso as the water flow seems to be blocked. I know baristas can be slow but that’s ridiculous. We daren’t even unpack the milk-frothier. Who knew such things existed.

L goes to Magdala Road to take flowers on our behalf which must have been quite difficult. It’s emotional enough looking at all the flowers on Ilkeston Road. The two students have got all the publicity what with them being young with their whole lives head of them etc and he’s sadly been forgotten a bit.

Some emails you dread and, for me, one’s about playing tennis come into that category. My opponent offers me a game but my physio has told me not to attempt to run until the end of the month. So that got me out of that. Depending on how my iron pumping goes we might manage a game in July. If he hasn’t killed me by then.

Then he suggests the ‘other thing’. That there is always golf. The thought has crossed my mind. When there is nowhere else left to go there’s always golf.

Saturday is parkrun at Alvaston and then I go to see my Dad. We leave L and her Mum in peace and don’t join them in town.

On Sunday L swims at Colwick while the Lad and I orienteer. We find most of the controls we look for but as the course is now very old some are probably long gone or buried in the undergrowth. Later we do the gym together. Well not ‘together’ together but we’re in the same building.

We stay in all this week, on the canned beer but with a bit more moderation and many thunderstorms. 

(Sunday 18^th June)