Saturday, 23 July 2016
I'm a Cider Drinker
I lost...3 - nil. In fact I lost 5 - nil as we continued playing so that my opponent got enough exercise in his lunch break. He was very grateful. A nice chap: he's something to do with large inflatable balloons - the ones that could fly across the Atlantic and back - but don't. Something to do with the Germans, hydrogen and a nasty accident a long time ago. Anyway, they not in service yet, just flying around trying to think up what a large helium filled bag floating 20,000 feet in the sky can be used for.
I thought he might consider using one of them to relay the Internet to hard to reach parts - like Miserden in Gloucestershire which has a worse connection speed than the base camp on Mount Everest. Apparently not - all rather complicated and having a big balloon tethered to the ground would be irresistible to any old ne'er do well. Anyway he was extremely interesting so I didn't feel so bad at being soundly beaten.
It took me longer to shower and change than to lose 5 - nil. That was mainly because I had great difficulty in moving and, as the changing room had no air conditioning I just sat and had an impromptu sauna.
I finally managed to dress and slowly leave the sport centre. The distance from there to the underground was too much to tackle in one go so I stopped half way at a Weatherspoons and had a pint of interesting cider.
A strange drink is cider. It looks like it shouldn't be taken seriously as an adult drink. My pint looked rather under the weather all cloudy and extremely apple smelling. I found myself humming "I got a brand new combine harvester" and pulling straw out of my hair. The bar woman was taken aback when handing over my money I said "Ey up me duck". It was however a very refreshing pint. A haystack to hand would have been ideal as the cider had a decidedly soporific effect on me.
Eventually, however, I managed to reach the station and catch a train home. Summer time on the tube can be a bummer what with overcrowded and boiling carriages. It does have it's compensations: watching tourists trying to figure out how to get from A to B using the underground map and hauling extremely large suitcases onto the up escalators and failing to dismount successfully at the top.
And then home. I was by then completely knackered. It had taken me over two hours to get to Walthamstow. I stopped at the florists at the station and bought the missus a bunch of flowers. I've got quite used to having a fresh bunch in the house each week.
When I got home I went out straight again to the Post Office collection office where a parcel was waiting for me. You see I'd opened this cash ISA account with the State Bank of India - lovely people and earlier this week they'd e-mailed apologising for not getting my ISA certificate to me. Also they were sending all their new ISA savers a box of chocolates. How nice: I frankly can't see my skinflint of a bank doing that! Anyway the postman had missed me and the parcel was waiting for me. A box of lovely chocolates.
So even if I lost at squash I was a winner in the end.
Mind you cider and chocolates rather take the shine off the health benefits of rushing around a squash court for 40 minutes.