Yesterday I thought that I wouldn’t have chance to do anything new and exciting this week, but it turns out that husband (who needs a good, non-twee nickname for me to refer to him as. Oh, no, apparently he’s happy being husband, the least I can do is upgrade him to being a proper noun) has an idea….
So after a quick forage around tesco, we’re off to the driving range. At first glance this plan seems flawed in so many ways. I have a slightly suspicious view of golf (the same way that other people see Morris dancing or late night text messaging services on Five). I have incredibly rubbish shoulders, no sense of balance and struggle to organise my limbs to do anything more than the most simple of tasks. I’m terrible at not being good at things and get very ratty with Husband when he tries to teach me stuff.
One hour, a basket of balls and a golf stick later… I’ve managed to find and lose my rhythm at whacking them down the grassy bit, narrowly avoided taking off the head of the bloke six booths down from me, chipped several so close that I can nip on and retrieve the ball without being shouted at, realised that golf is a lot harder than it looks and managed to confuse the automatic tee by my attempts at either belting a chunk out of the astroturf or gently wafting the club over the ball.
I hate to say it, but I quite enjoyed myself, though I suspect that my shoulders and back will be grizzly in the morning. They’re still recovering from Wii-fit boxing on Saturday night.
Juneathon’s really made me ponder on several things this week, but I should crack on with my presentation so I’ll have to keep pondering til another post. It’s certainly made me realise that Juneathon is wonderful for procastinating…