Golf and glittery frocks

What a glorious day it’s been today – an Indian summer indeed. Here’s today’s verse:

Meditation 227

Sometimes the only thing
that counts
is the wild shedding

of blood:
from the small agonies
of ancient kings –

names long forgotten –
to the murderous fury
of Paul

as he condemns to darkness
those he’s come
to hate,

it has always been so.

Not really suited to the weather, I know, but what the heck eh. This morning, I have played a rollercoaster game of golf with Marian, which she rightfully won, as being far and away the most consistent player. I had an utterly appalling time on the sixth hole, where astonishingly I missed my first tee shot entirely, but managed somehow to knock the tee itself backwards (backwards?! I ask you!!) whilst leaving the ball still in its place on the mat. Just slightly lower. Ah, the shame. Though it was in some respects a shot of true genius. My second attempt knocked the ball a foot or so in front of me so I decided to try again. My third attempt sent the ball so high that it landed in a tree and then fell between the three split branches so it was completely unplayable. When I took my shot from the nearest point to there, it then went straight into the pond. Lordy. Marian by this time was beside herself with hysterical laughter, and I did wonder whether I should call for an ambulance. Just in case. Never say I’m not caring … I eventually finished the damn hole in 12. 12!!! Shocking for a par 3 hole. Mind you, I managed to partially redeem myself by getting four apiece in the next three holes, but of course Marian still won. By a good mile.

I then popped into Godalming to restock my essential supplies of Quiet Life pills (over the next week I’m definitely going to need them …) and peppermint oil. I aim always for a state of calm alertness. As you can tell, ho ho. I’ve also been working away on the edit to The Hit List and am now on p106 and a quarter of the way through. Robert’s arrived. He’s pretty damn hot. I forget how much I like Robert – nice to reacquaint myself with him again after so long. I’m enjoying this more than I anticipated I would, I must say.

Oh and I’m fighting a losing battle with trying to get DHL to deliver a parcel to me. They tried it yesterday, but were confused by the door arrangements and left a card without knocking. When I rang up this morning, I find the parcel number on the card is wrong, so they weren’t sure for quite a while who the sender might be, and when I asked to change the delivery address to be Lord H’s work one, I was told I couldn’t do that as only the sender can change details. The sendee is too untrustworthy for such dizzy responsibility. After much argy-bargy, I gather they might try and redeliver here tomorrow, but of course I’ll be out at the University welcoming Freshers with a bright smile and a lot of leaflets. Ah well, we’ll wait and see then …

Tonight, we have a Strictly Come Dancing TV extravaganza. I have promised Lord H I will be strong and not vote for anyone, but I told him that last week, and rushed to the phone back then to vote for Chris & Ola as soon as I could – so I fear my husband does not entirely believe me … I must also do some kind of cleaning before I need to get my sparkly frock out. Bring on the glitter ball. As they say.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Trick golf
3. Editing The Hit List
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – bamboozled by golf balls
The Bones of Summer – a truly sizzling read, naturally …

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