Bitter Crisis and a Worrying Nine Iron

Being an Essex boy I was somewhat startled by the news of Greene King’s takeover of the Ridley brewery. Whilst Ridley’s bitter has the same effect on my internal workings as highly spiced Balti dishes, to others (particularly the younger brother) it is a carefully blended, high-octane fuel essential to the proper workings of mind, spirit and body. Will Sunday lunchtime ever be the same for them without eight pints of Ridleys acting as an appetiser before a plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding?

My efforts to rediscover my golfing skills continue on the driving range. Oddly, yesterday, I was able to hit a respectable pensioner’s three iron (150 yards and pretty much straight), but attempts to chip the ball with a nine iron met with absolute disaster. The drawing board will be revisited today.

I suppose that the expected decision later this morning about London’s Olympic bid will rouse me to some ranting. Win and we’re in trouble with our European friends from France and Spain; lose and the G8 conference will stand a better chance of success. Win and we have to deliver a memorable Olympic Games; lose and we won’t risk getting ourselves into an overspending nightmare as budgets spin recklessly out of control. Perversely, I hope we win.