Sunday, 21 August 2011

Therapy failure: Je ne regresse rien

candlelit dinner for two Today I slept for 12 hours 11 minutes (Coma Chameleon) so Pops came round while I was still eating breakfast. That sorted everything out. She stayed for lunch. At one point she fell off her chair but her fall was broken by an aircraft carrier (as you do) so she came away with light contusions to one foot.
crazy golf on southsea seafrontLater we went crazy golfing. Pops is a bit new to it (unlike my expert self) so tends to wipe the ball along like she's sweeping. Of course I used to be that way but now I can hit the ball 20 yards, I lost mine in 4 different prickly bushes, my favourite trick is to get the ball 3 inches from the hole and then 4 iron it. Pops got hit by one ball and I clubbed her in the head but she didn't mind. The course is very annoying as all the greens are humped to allow rainwater to drain off the felt and out through the side gutters: the ball will therefore always roll sideways and hide in the gutters. As expert and man in charge of the universe, I shout a lot and boss people around. He who must not be named said that if I did it again, he'd take the ball off me and I'd forfeit a hole. This promptly happened as I ordered people around: I ran into the corner and hid blubbing behind an ice cream advert sign for the duration of 1 hole. I shall be leader of the humans soon, I need to shout. Then we had ice creams and played on the pitch'n'putt. Eventually we went home and played Sofa Tombstoning again where we jump from the sofa arm onto the pile of cushions while ululating, we then have to swim back across the carpet avoiding the sharks. He took Pops home at 7pm.

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