I’m back on my regular settee in the cafe at Thorpe Golf Club whilst the kids have golf lessons. They do a pot of tea for £1.50 which lasts most of the hour of the golf lesson. I’m wearing a pair of rugby shorts and sandals – not something that would ordinarily be countenanced at a golf club. This one is more enlightened. I’m playing myself later. Just nine holes because there’s a competition on so we are letting them get out of the way before we start. It’s going to mean I’m less knackered for going out later. Are off to the Bell at Coleby. Very good apparently. I think I may have been there but it is likely to have been a quarter of a century or so ago. Chances are it will have changed. I’m driving there and was going to drive back but decided to treat myself so we are getting a taxi. Whilst I’m here I’ve picked up my 5 wood which I left for repair a few weeks ago. The head flew off when the kids were using it at the driving range! I never use it myself but figured it was worth repairing. Cost me £3 which is a real bargain. I never seem to be able to get on the wifi here and the mobile signal is rubbish hence me spending some time writing. The weather forecast is not good for when I play so whether we do actually end up playing is a moot point. We shall see. There is a radio blaring out some radio 1 type music at one end of the room (perhaps it is radio 1 :)?) and the TV at the other end has a cookery programme on. At 11.20 am on a Saturday! Dont people have better things to do with their lives? The till chings. Cups clank and I’ve just discovered the woman behind the counter is named Sue. Odd that, considering I’ve been quite a regular fixture here every other Saturday morning for a few months now. A girl comes in wearing a cricket sweater with dark and light blue stripes at the collar. She has matching blue trousers. On my third cup of tea and the pot is now empty. Good job really or I’ll be spending the rest of the day going to the toilet. Sign behind the cafe counter says “We don’t do fast food… We do fresh food , as fast as we can!” there is a woman sat reading the paper who is the only other regular I can say I recognise. She normally seems to be wearing a work suit and has a load of paperwork to read but not today. It’s a magazine I think, not a newspaper. The grrr of the coffee grinder grows louder. I had initially confused it for a whoosh but no, it’s a grrr (three r’s only but continuously repeated). I note that the “Monty” breakfast is £4.95. I expect its good value. Last week I had breakfast at The Bread Street Kitchen”, a huge new Gordon Ramsay restaurant. It was excellent fair play. I stayed off the carbs. I’m trying to lose weight, more by lifestyle change than strict dieting. Cutting down on eating rubbish, less alcohol etc. Friday nights are a bit strange mind you. I normally fall asleep on the settee after a few beers and some wine. Not now. Fourteen minutes to go and I’ve just taken a break to send a couple of tweets. Nothing earth shattering, just my usual wittiness as appreciated by all my followers no doubt otherwise why would eh be following me? The dregs of my tea are cold but they have still been consumed. Waste not want not eh? Eh? Come on now you know it makes sense. I should be preparing for an after dinner speech I’m giving on Tuesday night. It’s at the Murco Petroleum annual sales conference. It’ll be my second ever after dinner speech. I’m building up a track record here. The first was at a local Rotary Club where I was asked to talk for ten minutes or so about what we are doing at work (lots of investing). I needed to keep it relatively non technical so I dumbed it down considerably. Imagine my surprise when I walked in to the room to find that the average age must have been well north of seventy and even the term Gigabyte, the most technical bit of my speech, was beyond some of them. Ah well. I also went on for considerably more than 10 minutes. You live and learn, I hope. That’s your hour. I type slowly on the iPad. Catch you later…
July 7, 2012
August 7, 2010
June 24, 2009
Early morning at the petrol station
It’s the beginning of a hot day in Lincoln and after dropping John off at school I take the car to fill up with petrol. The smell of the petrol and the whirring of the pumps says to me that this won’t be a pleasant place to be as the morning moves into midday. It feels inner city, radiating concrete with little relief from the sun.
At home the back doors are already open and I hear the birds calling to each other in the garden. They are enjoying themselves. I can almost hear them say “this is why we come here every summer”. I too am relaxed. Tom bustles about upstairs but everyone else is out of the house.
June 23, 2009
the excitement of the trip
I’m pretty much all packed. A few toiletries to sort out in the morning. Passport retrieved from hibernation and fresh ironed clothes tidily, for now, tucked into the bag. Tonight is my last proper night of sleep. Tomorrow I will be on the plane, overnight, and then five late nights and forced mornings, before another overnighter back on the plane home.
The feeling isn’t quite the same as I imagine trips of old to be. The farewell dinner with best friends and loved ones. Next morning taking the trunk down to the railway station and then on to the harbour for departure on a lengthy voyage. The ceremonial crossing of the equator. Dressing for dinner on board. Interminable days of seasickness followed by long periods of intolerable heat.
The idea that I can fly for twelve hours to the far side of the earth, party for five days and then fly back doesn’t seem right. Still, everyone on the trip is excited and I can see this excitement heightening tomorrow morning as the party, from all over the country, diversely makes its way to London Airport for the departure. We even have people from as far as Dublin and New York joining the trip.
It is twilight now. Nearly ten o’clock at night at the height of the British summer. In South Africa it will be dark at this time, Lions roaring and birds screeching, night time in the wilderness. At this time on Thursday I will be gathering around a watering hole, probably singing myself, just like the lions in their own way. Hopefully tunefully.
the lake in summer
bright primary colours float across the surface,
small boats under an endless blue sky,
the water, shimmering
as the hottest day of the year
drives me into the pleasant shade above the lake.
blackhead gulls find energy,
absorbed from the afternoon heat
and reeds, where week old ducklings hide
and dragonflies hover,
sway gently at the waters edge.
dry onlookers avoid the drip of wet clothes
of self drenched, red faced children
dazzled eyes squinting in the high sun,
tongues, in search of cool refrigeration,
and parent towelled cosset.