Friday, 14 June 2013

In which I up the excitement stakes in my life

So, having spent the morning with the Year 11 Maths (calculator paper) - yep, I know how to live dangerously, I did actually write a short thesis on the incidence of twitching legs that spread across the hall in a sort of Mexican wave whilst I was there - so at lunchtime I went to the park.

And there I watched part of a bowls match which, by invigilator standards at least, was pretty exciting.  There were even little rounds of applause at particularly skilful shots.  When they'd finished one match, one woman got out what looked like a rather wide Zimmer frame and started to walk across the green.  I wondered whether she was using that to sort of spread the load so as not to damage the green by digging holes in it.  Turned out it was a mechanism to scoop up all the bowls and get them to the far side, ready for the next match.

Then my friend R came along and we walked back to school.  She's Spanish and she told me about a trip she'd had to Plymouth (she'd gone to get revenge on Drake for the Spanish Armada thing - no, not really) and she'd seen these people playing bowls (see, ties in with the Drake thing) but they were all old, and moving really slowly, and all dressed in white.  Being Spanish she'd never seen anything like this before and she was convinced they'd all escaped from a local care home or hospital.

I wonder what she'd make of Morris men.


  1. I kind of fancy bowls. My father took it up when he was not much older than I am now, and became some sort of local champion. It's not too strenuous, is it. Trouble is, I've seen some of the kind of people you have to pretend to like ...

  2. Which board was it for?