My apologies for too long a gap, I have been roaming the British Countryside like a lost Romany on speed and rather neglected my laptop. Driving, normally such a pleasure, has been trying. Imagine the most efficient shower you have ever had. Then imagine standing underneath it for four hours continuously. The shower is the super fancy spa type with jets running from floor to ceiling, to ensure every part of your body is titillated and cleansed. That’s what driving has been like these part few days, with the gods ensuring there is absolutely no chance of wildfires in Wessex for the next year or more. Not that Wessex is renowned for such conflagrations at the best of times.
I was discussing my Lentern abstinence with a friend the other day and she confessed that having gone alcohol-free in January she had developed a new relationship with the demon drink. I don’t think I’ve ever had a relationship with booze, but nonetheless I shall be interested to see what happens at Easter after forty days of water.
Hopefully I won’t make the mistake that I did as a fifteen year old. A group of us ne’er-do-wells had purloined a bottle of Harveys finest Bristol Cream. I had never drunk sherry before and, having a rather sweet tooth, I found it so delicious that I consumed most of the bottle in one sitting. Not too long after, back in my boarding house, I deposited the contents of my stomach all over the floor and walls, caught out by the abruptness of the reaction. My poor Housemaster, who was unfortunately on hand to witness the event, suggested that I had been drinking! “Who me Sir! Oh no Sir, definitely not Sir!”; a somewhat brazen denial considering that the whole place, including me, stank of alcohol. I do believe that it’s quite important to have these experiences to learn the lessons of life the hard way. Unfortunately, I must, even then, have suffered with a poor short term memory because it seemed to happen again and again at not infrequent intervals throughout my teens and early twenties. It won’t be too long no doubt before my son is caught up in such irresponsible behaviour and I will no doubt scold him as if I sit on the right hand of God.
It’s interesting that sports organisations are now banning hand-shaking, in an attempt to limit the spread of Covid 19 or 17 or whatever number it is. I watched Master Oliver in a needle County Cup semi-final hockey match versus Ardingly yesterday. Played in absolutely foul conditions Eastbourne College held a slender 1-0 lead. With only seconds to go, Ardingly equalised and the match then had to be decided on penalty flicks. Already 3-1 down the issue was decided when poor Oliver completely miscued and watched the ball dribble towards the goalkeeper for the easiest of saves. The Ardingly boys then ran round the pitch squealing and hollering like demented dervishes before, football style, hurling themselves in a heap on the ground in a most unedifying spectacle of poor sportsmanship and in the process creating the perfect conditions for transmission of viruses. Still, they then declined to shake hands with the defeated College boys, so that was ok! It was all particularly galling because Oliver’s team had played the better hockey and really deserved to win. How often sport fails to reward the just though.
Finally today has dawned bright and sunny. It’s enough to put a smile back on one’s face.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 