I try not to be tempted into the misuse of sporting cliché but my weekend fits this particularly used and abused one so well, here goes.
It was a weekend of two halves. The portents were positive. The forecast promised swell and offshore winds for the weekend.We met up with friends on Friday at a local eating establishment before moving on to our first visit to Barnstaple Comedy Club. I grinned and chortled through the first hour of the acts happily enough, bravely sitting in the front row. My more reticent friends and wife stayed anchored close to the comfort of the bar . The weekend then took a rude lurch toward the lower quartile. My wife exited the club without reference to me and only the briefest of explanations to our friends. Puzzled, I trod the dark lanes back to Landkey Town. The rumoured illness quickly became all too apparent within less than half a minute of returning to the familial seat. Food poisoning with all her bilious hued liquors paid us a visit for the night. Angie came off worst by far and I escaped with a stomach that did a good impression of a cement mixer.
Saturday dawned with sun and gentle easterly winds that strangely for the time of year supported temperatures in the low teens. Eyeball displayed the evidence of a friendly little swell. We huddled by a warm TV for most of the day.I occasionally turned my head away from the cheerless 6 Nations Rugby to look upon the early spring day unfolding without active involvement from us. However at least I can recommend the unexpectedly subversive ‘Private Lives of Pippa Lee’ found in the depths of iplayer.
Sunday arrived with all evidence of the green fingered witch and springtime disappeared. In their place were iron grey skies with piercingly invigorated easterlies. The webcam displayed some pleasing looking bumps at Croyde. After only a little deliberation I had a chilly session in excellent and occasionally dredging 3 to 4 foot tubes but frankly the will was not quite there today.Oh well , there were plenty of others out there getting as barrelled as it is possible to do at a British beach break.
I realise this entry is probably characteristic of the lower orders of the blogasphere but sometimes it is such a good way to set aside regret of the less than optimal days in life and the general mawkishness they extract from me. The positive to be taken is that we invested in another winter wetsuit for my daughter who will be keeping me company in the water from April onwards. This is something that makes her father ridiculously happy.