In Which I Celebrate my Birthday a Month Early and Do a Golf

Well, it was fun at D's. Fun if you enjoy listening to your friend cry about putting their fingers down their throat to get them to vom. I should probably say that this was to purge his guts of alcoholic poison, rather than to bulimiacise himself into a lower dress size (although he could lose a few pounds). This was essentially my birthday trip up to Norwich to see D (though a month early as I have a couple of trips to London ahead of me), which I do every year, and every year ends up with me taking pictures of D voiding his guts into a bowl that previously housed some witches' brew of cocktail in it. D seemed fine when we were walking towards the city centre, and then two hundred yards later was retching and wretched and thinking about passing out and generally being useless.  I had drunk the same as him but because I had to look after him I instantly sobered up, and gave him the sound advice that he should make himself sick and he'd feel better. Unfortunately D isn't a particularly forward thinking person, and doesn't realise the "ickyness" (his word, not mine) of sticking his fingers down his throat is better than taking three hours to walk 500 yards back to his to watch him be sick a little and then for him to wake me up at eight the next day so I could listen to him tell me how rough he felt  and watch him throwing up at various intervals up until 3 in the afternoon, whilst still refusing to stick his fingers down his gullet. Happy birthday to me.

Actual picture of me nursemaiding D

Today, back in Essex I went down to the driving range with D (a different D who knows when to put his fingers down his throat). Surprisingly, I was quite good. The last time I'd tried this I was what the kind amongst you might have called unforgivably crap. Today, however, the planets were in alignment and I was fairly consistently twatting the balls into the distance, and straight down the middle. For someone who only swings two thirds of the way owing to a lack of technique, I was pretty chuffed to be able to spank it beyond 150 yards. D managed to hit the ball the furthest, but I reckon my average was a little better than his.

A bit of background for the next bit. D and I had an ongoing competition for Pro Evo 2008 as to who could score the first free kick with Frank Lampard as it's almost impossible, and several years of trying later the loser had to get the winner, which wasn't D, a bottle of Cava. A bottle of Cava that has yet to appear, actually. Anyroad, halfway through the D- can-hit-them-harder-but-I-can-hit-them-more-consistently game, we changed from super mega hitty golf sticks to look like more of a dink it in the air golf sticks, and D proposed we had hit it as close as possible to the sign on the 50 yard bit. I chipped a pretty nice shot in that was maybe four yards off, properly using height, wind and gradient of the range. I offered D a bottle of Cava if he managed to hit the sign, and he used a slightly different technique. With a lusty shout of "ALLAHU AKBAR", he swung at the ball as hard as possible and managed to hit the sign square in the middle, eliciting a curiously clean ping- cue jumping around and screaming like little girls. We embraced and agreed that we'd each have to present the other with a bottle of Cava, mine being for that far more impressive Frank Lampard free kick. And yes it WAS far more impressive than a golf shot, we spent years trying to do that whereas D managed to hit that tiny target 50 yards away on a breezy day first time. Anyway, we had two rounds of putting after that, which we both won one of. D's a gambler though, so we played one final round which I bested him at- and this was for the not inconsiderable title of Champion of the Universe as well. I stood for the national anthem, which didn't play for some reason, and I didn't see a trophy. I am still waiting on that (I mean, come on, they'd have to send it Special Delivery), and I may have to contact Royal Mail for losing it in the post. Hey ho.

This is D. He is jammy.

 

I go in for surgery today, and yes it IS surgery- the robot woman asking me to confirm my appointment termed it so. Consequently I'm on nil by mouth at the moment, which includes fluids. I'm really starting to feel it- sometimes I think that I'd die without food and water.

Today's Tune