Back to normal in the golfing arena today, I'm afraid to say - no holes-in-one for me, and indeed on one hole, I managed to get nearly into double figures. Which for a par three isn't really covering myself in glory. Still, Marian and I had a great time, but in the end I suspect we may have peaked last time out ... Naturally we're blaming our poor performance on (a) the wet grass which meant our balls didn't travel as far, and (b) the fact that for some reason there were huge numbers of people on the course this morning, which puts us off our game, you know. At least those are our excuses and we're sticking to them.
Post-golf, I nipped into Godalming to get a few essentials and even remembered to stock up on birdseed for Gladys, hurrah. Really, it's all so complicated now - you have to stare at the packaging to work out what types of seed attract which birds, and then try to second-guess which birds she might like to see. Sometimes I long for the days when a crisp was a crisp and you didn't have flavours. Ditto the birdseed conundrum.
This afternoon, I have struggled - and I mean really really struggled - with Hallsfoot's Battle. Indeed, it's been my own battle with Hallsfoot. I just couldn't get either the energy up or the enthusiasm and it all seemed sooooo hard and soooo exhausting. One of those days, I suppose, deeeeep sigh. Though I did in the end manage to squeeze out 500 words, but Lord only knows whether they're any good or not. I never do really know.
And I've finished Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Which is the story of a young girl growing up during the early twentieth century - in guess where! Not my normal sort of read, and I'm doing it for next week's University book group, but actually I thought it was quirky and poetic, detailed and different. With some lovely and very human scenes. The family are great and Francie, the MC, is very strong. Well worth a read, and it reminded me very much of Flora Thompson's Larkrise - a book I did at school and loved.
I've also finished the latest edition of Tears in the Fence magazine. Some very arresting work in there, particularly Alec Finlay's short witty poems, K V Skene's prose poem of philosophical despair, Julie Lumsden's eagle-eyed and honest view of humanity, and Annie Clarkson's gripping prose poem of one moment in a relationship. All astonishing stuff.
Tonight, it's Ugly Betty - hurrah! - so I'll be watching avidly. And we really do have to watch Ainsley Harriott in Who Do You Think You Are? at some point too.
Today's nice things: