Not a lot going on. Though there was some good football, as Liverpool made a mess of Chelsea and the Arse surprised Man U with a spiffing headed goal by Henry.
Miserable cold, dark, damp, followed by howling gales. A crowd of desperate golfers, who had been banged up indoors for several days, went out on Monday. Cold rain blowing in from the north; it was very unpleasant and some of the weaker brethren came off early to seek the comfort of the clubhouse. Not me, of course. My blood circulation is much better now than in the Christmas skiing days, when I used to suffer the only bad pain I have ever experienced. It's 11 years since I smoked my last ciggie, and it has taken so long to get me normal.
Tuesday morning, though chilly, was dry, and a dozen of us went out there. The course is draining well and we had a good round. I detect signs of recovery from my worst performing month since records began (since I started keeping records for our mob's handicap system).
The Thames Barrier was closed three times in four days since Friday, because the rain and high winds caused record high tides. I'm glad I live up above the Thames flood plain. But when I got up this morning everything was covered in two inches of snow, and it was -1º out there (do you like the º sign? - specialised knowledge). The good news for the Australia Day golf match is that the snow has already gone, though it may be lingering in the Kentish Alps, where we are due to play on Friday.
There was some more embarrassing cricket. I think that the players should have their wages stopped as unearned, and some of them should retrain for a job they can do. Like emptying the bins or something. But turning on the telly in the pre-dawn of an English winter, the beautiful blue sky over Adelaide was nice to see. It's no wonder they are good at cricket. You have to ask why they are crap at other summer sports.
For example, when did an Aussie woman last win the Australian Open tennis? It was 29 years ago! And how many Aussie men are still in the current Open? I'll give you a clue: it's fewer than one. I will permit myself a chuckle.
How's this for a Pooter diary entry? I have replumbed my kitchen taps. After being talked through a valve replacement operation (taps don't have washers any more) by a friendly lady in Stoke-on-Trent, I was sent a replacement for my leaking cold tap. I then discovered that the hot and cold had been transposed when the tap was first fitted, so I ordered a hot tap valve. I can't afford to upset Terry Plumber, because he is the only person who understands my rather complicated heating system, but it was his fault. So anyone using my kitchen taps will have to re-learn the direction of turn. Mind you, the only tap use people make here is to put some water in the kettle for a brew. It's not as if they do heavy washing-up.
More burblings. I have a lot of pots on the terrace that I was going to dispose of, but I am encouraged by the weekend prints to try to grow potatoes in them.
The outdoor temperature has raced up to 3º, so the worst of the ice storm is over. I might even go out in the morning to practice for Friday. Yes, all right, I still haven't come up with a list of alternative occupations.
