Pa's Tale

But I shouldn't be. Mostly nice weather - in fact, the golf course looked its absolute best this morning with the bright sun on the freshly unfurled leaves. Sometimes it seems a shame to spoil it by playing crap golf.

But I keep slightly busy. I power-hosed the front on Sunday. Big deal! I played reasonably well on Monday, then wasted the rest of the day. Though I did roast a plump chicken, which will provide several suppers this week.

I shouldn't have gone out on Tuesday - migrainey - but I had a good afternoon kip. The idea was to stay awake for the famous football game, which I did, but Chelsea didn't let the flash Barça stars do their stuff. Not much fun to watch. But the Arse v Manu game tonight should be better. The old lags against the young likely lads. I hope Manu don't kick the lads out off the park.

There is a scary new Aussie cricketer called Hughes, who is being prepared for the Ashes by letting him play for Middlesex, for whom he has just hit a ton. If we had any quick bowlers, we could give him a fright. But we don't.

I was very amused by the notion of Charles and his missus (both divorced, and her from an RC) imposing themselves on the Pope. It seems that he gritted his teeth and gave them a quarter of an hour of his precious time, just to be polite. Bloody rubbish.

And what about swine flu? I haven't been near a pig for years (though there are one or two blokes ...), nor a Mexican. Have you? And the media are making an enormous hoo-ha, we're all doomed, because it's the kind of stuff that sells papers.

Phooey. But I played a bit better today, and there is still more to come because I'm playing in a friendly match at Chislehurst GC tomorrow. It's an odd course - they have eight par 3s - but the clubhouse is one of the most interesting in the area. It was lived in by Louis Philippe, who called himself Napoleon III, the last emperor of France in exile, then by his widow.

There will be a substantial lunch. And I may have to round off the week by playing on Friday. Well why not?

I have just mown the back grass. My new mower is strong and willing. (I wish I was.) A chicken salad now, with footie to follow. Jolly bon!

I have just found out about Amazon's music download system, and it is excellent. I bought an album (OK, I'm not ashamed to name it - we missed all this stuff while we were living in France - Rumours by Fleetwood Mac), and it took just a few minutes to download and transfer to iPod. Four quid, and the big number for me goes "Don't stop thinking about tomorrow ... Yesterday's gone ... ". Good song.

Another good thing from Amazon - I bought a CD through their system, and it didn't arrive. I complained (having seen the 95% negative feedback for these suppliers), and I got a refund in days.

I got bedding plants on Thursday and put then in pots. How boring. But in a few weeks they will be a colourful addition to the terrace, and well worth the effort.

It was ANZAC Day on Friday. Our Aussie House fourball of the past quarter century played a fine match at Woodlands Manor, and I did all right, including being overall winner. This involved knocking in a longish putt on the 18th for a winning par. Happy days.

Feeling idle today, but I did a bit of digging and pruning. There was no sport on the box, so I had a look at Solo's future golf trips. (Don't stop thinking about tomorrow ... ) They are doing one at Christmas to Cape Town and Paarl, but it's a ten day trip and only five rounds of golf. Four days of doing nothing much - we had a good visit to Cape Town some years ago (I've just checked - it was in 1995, feels like a couple of years ago), and I may not want to take on two 12 hour flights just for a bit of golf.

There is a trip to Spain/Portugal just after Christmas which sounds nice, with a lot less hassle (and a lot less money). But that's all months away. I'll see how I feel when I get back from Italy in June. (It's tough being retired, but I'm too old to get a job, even at B&Q.)

ManU went two down to Tottering Hotspur this evening, then contrived to score five. That's it for the Premiership.

I'm just marking time until bedtime, feeling sleepy, so I'll have a naughty choc ice then lay down me weary head.

Nighty night.

Well, Nursie stuck a needle in my tum, and the implant is supposed to last three months. During which time, of course, my tits get bigger and my drives get shorter. While I was in downtown Lewisham being jabbed, I had a look round. It's your actual melting pot - an amazing mix of peoples and races. The market stall holders are still locals: "Cahm on, only a pahnd a pahnd".

I had to find a home for my new mower, so I put the old one at the front gate with a note saying "Help yourself". In half an hour a bloke rang the doorbell and asked if it was all right to take it away. Then I took the kid's bike to the local Primary school, and they agreed to take it. Only Ma's bike left. It's hard to describe. An old lady's bike. An old-fashioned lady's bike. If I leave it at the front gate, it will go away regardless.

There isn't much blossom on the apple tree, though that may not matter, because there are no bees to pollenate. We're all doomed! So I watched the hilarious match between Liverpool and Arsenal. Yet another 4-4. And the Russian bloke scored four because Liverpool hadn't picked any central defenders to stop him.

Anyroad, nice sunshine on Tuesday. I played a bit better, then I paid for my next Solo's golf holiday. June in Tuscany, midway between Florence and the coast. Sounds nice to me.

Today was the Grand Final of the Veterans' Dave Lagdon Trophy. Off at 8, and closely fought until the 5th, when my weak chip left my partner too much to do. So one down at the turn, then we lost 10 and 11, then 13, to go four down with five to play.

So Dave and I got tough and won the next four in a row, and we were all square on the 18th tee. OK, so I missed the crucial putt, but it was a great fun match.

County cricket has started, and here's an explanation as to why it is dying. Lovely weather at Hove. 96 overs bowled. Score at close of play - 247 for 5. That's why they have to allow spectators to bring their deck chairs to snooze in.

I'm having a day off (off golf, that is) tomorrow. I shall get some summer plants and stick them in, and that will be it. Then I'll just sit back and enjoy.

I read that a doctor has suggested that smaller wine bottles would help to reduce over-indulgence. He doesn't seem to know that a wine bottle is the size it is because a couple of hundred years ago some wise men decided that it was a suitable amount for a gentleman to drink at dinner.

There was a time in my my life when I used to buy litre bottles, but we'll pass over that. Though I remember on our early camping trips to Italy why those straw-covered Chianti bottles were so hard to empty. When I checked the small print I learned that they held a litre and a half. Surely not?

There has just been a golf tournament on the Beijing International Golf Club. Is Mao spinning in his grave, or would he have approved?

Speaking of China, they have a bloke who is 8'1" tall. He can play basketball without having to jump.

I have a busy golf week coming up. On Wednesday my partner Dave and I play in the final of the David Lagdon Trophy. I hope he plays well. Then on Friday, it is ANZAC Day, and the Frightful Four will play, as we have done just about every year since about 1984. The weather seems to be set fair, so I hope that my motor functions are operational.

Domestically, I have bought no meat for the coming week, though there is smoked fish for a salad. And I have bought a new lawnmower. Fifty quid off a Bosch - couldn't turn it down. And it is nearly time to do the summer planting. I don't believe in the Saints de Glace any more.

The Paris mob are off the Manas tomorrow. The tennis course was good, and Euan won the overall individual competition. Alastair thought he came second in his group though it may have been third or fourth, he can't quite remember.

Quick and simple food this week, starting now with a carbonara. Yum.

Since I'm not required in the kitchen just yet, I'll add a couple of garden pics (said he confidently).

Why does golf treat me like this? Last month I was a star; this month I am rubbish. Nice weather on Tuesday and I played badly. So I stayed in bed on Wednesday morning, then finished the power-hosing job on the terrace. It looks quite nice, and when I have put in the usual summer flowers - geraniums, begonias, petunias, marguerites etc - that will be it.

Then I went out again this morning and had a horrible time, and it rained, and we came off after 15 holes. But they say that when you are thrown off a horse you must get straight back on, so I will force myself to go out tomorrow as usual (unless it is raining).

What is to done about the mad coppers. The thugs who have been bashing normal people should be given the boot, though they should have therapy first before they are let out into the community. I suspect that they have seen footage of the Paris CRS dealing with rioters, and are too stupid to recognise that your traditional Parisian rioters are infinitely harder than the G20 protesters. There used to be a badge which said that the successful police force is one which catches more criminals than it employs. How good is the Met (and its top management?)

And while I'm cross, I would like to know whether the dickhead McBride, he of the cunning plan to put out smear stuff about the Tories, having resigned from his post as Brown's helper at No 10, is still on the Civil Service payroll. And if so, why?

The football was entertaining. Watching Chelsea respond to giving away two goals in the first half-hour was fun, as was seeing Liverpool score four. The other games were routine, though without Ronaldo's fabulous goal, Man U would have lost.

Cricket now. Afghanistan have now beaten Scotland as well as Ireland. And in the County Championship (which may be seeing its life drain slowly away), Middlesex, Surrey and Kent are all in the second division.

I hear that a new Dylan album will be released on 27/4. Which reminds me that among my recent CD purchases from Amazon (yes, I'm old-fashioned enough to buy them rather than get downloads online) there was one which I never received. I went to the seller's profile and found that they have a 95% negative feedback - it seems that they never deliver. Amazon responded to my complaint within hours and will reimburse me. It's only £7, but villains have to be put down.

It's time for my three-monthly hormone implant. As it says in the notes, the side effects make you thicker in the middle, as well as causing your bosoms to grow and hot flushes. I'm becoming a large old lady who can't play golf very well. Perhaps I'll take up knitting.

Four days without golf, and a long list of things to do in the house and garden. And here I am wasting time online. I did get the power hose out yesterday and spent an hour on the terrace, having moved lots of stuff on the the grass, but the rugby was on, followed by the rugby, so I had to stop. "Save it for tomorrow", I said to myself.

So I went out again this morning and did some sweeping and weeding, but it made my back sore. Then I thought I noticed a light drizzle, so I came in to do some more planning. And I got distracted by the Guido Fawkes blogsite - ongoing contributions by people who seem to have nothing to do. But of course, workers have a day off today and need to keep busy. (It can be found on www.order-order.com )

The rugby was ferocious, but the defences are just too good these days so you get silly scores like 6-3. Instead of pratting around with bits of rules that nobody understands, the rulemakers should get out of their box and think about giving the runners more room. Rugby League abolished wing forwards a century ago, though I don't think the current game is up to much as a spectacle.

The Masters was good fun, though I couldn't stay awake to the end. It was good that the winner was an outsider, and that the big guys didn't really challenge. I don't think though that the course should be made so easy that a bloke can get a whole string of birdies. Make 'em hurt, say I.

Still on sport, Afghanistan has just beaten Ireland at cricket.

The Paris boys are going on a residential tennis week, which could be good for Euan. Alastair will be going too. I hear that Julia does competitive single-handed sailing, and has just come second in a competition - if she had won she would have been eligible for the Championnats de France. She's a very athletic girl, with her grandmother's genes.

Here's a little genealogy story. A man called Edward Turner (1785-1841) was involved in the so-called Pentrich Revolution, when a bunch of local village people decided that enough was enough and took to arms. They were of course squashed by the militia. Three were hanged, and Edward was transported to Australia in 1817.

There, he married Ann Cawson (born in Aus) in 1821. They had a daughter Ellen, who married one Joseph Davis. Their son Austen's grandson (still with me?) married Jean, who was the Australian-born daughter of my runaway grandfather Archibald. And their child Margaret stayed here for a couple of days last month - she is my cousin.

I don't know how to count degrees of separation, but it's the kind discovery that enhances family history research.

There is a little weak sunshine going on, so I will venture out again. I roasted a fairly plump chicken last night, so I'll have a chicken sandwich now, a chicken risotto tomorrow, the I'll boil the bones down later and make a minestrone. All for a fiver. Then no more chicken for a couple of weeks.

Well, there was sunshine for a start. I have played better golf, but nobody on these trips takes it too seriously. They can't really on account of the amount of grog that gets put away in the evenings.

I did win a prize, though I suspect that there was a card-marking error. And I got a special award for being the most active man on the dance floor. I tread a fine line between being not pissed enough and being too pissed. Fortunately, the local grog is not too punitive.

So I got home on Wednesday evening, and got a dinner out of the freezer where it had been stored for just such a need. It was a Sainsbury beef stew, and it was rubbish. Then I had to go to golf on Thursday morning, and I played quite well. The best moment came on the 18th, where my opponent was close to the hole in three. I was 20 feet away in two and sank the birdie putt. What larks!

The grass has been cut back and front, and some perfunctory gardening done. Most of the laundry has been done. Curried meat balls for supper. A supermarket run tomorrow, then it's square-eyes time. The Masters each evening, the Heineken Cup matches in the afternoons. What's not to like? (a phrase which I have never understood).

A week without media has caused me to think once again about stopping the Guardian and the Economist. Information overload. The Economist has a huge pride in its own understanding of important matters. It tells you what it thinks has happened, then what might happen next, and how it would solve the world's problems. I might just step to one side and read headlines on the internet. How can it be of interest to me to read pages of stuff about the management failures of the Metropolitan Police?

Last year at this time it snowed quite heavily - I posted a pic of my garden under the stuff. It is quite mild now. The apple tree is in leaf and there is lots of yellow blossom, so I will assume that the sun's gonna shine.

I was in error when reporting Helen's track day at Brands Hatch. It wasn't the Bandit, it was on the Kawasaki Ninja, with its tweaked 4-in-line 636cc engine. Sorry for the misinformation. Here's a pic.