small balls

For better or worse, I have found myself watching quite a bit of the snooker late at night over the past few days. It may be that this happens every year during the World Championships and you've heard it all before and I've just forgotten, but it's come as a surprise to me quite how much I've been enjoying it. I'm finding it strangely meditative, and I'm convinced the slow pace and quiet atmosphere have helped with my recent improvements in sleep patterns. Although I have to say - watching Mark Selby play snooker is like watching my son move when I tell him to get to bed - it all takes soooooo loooonnnnngggg...

In other news, I am playing golf with Gavin later this week, which I cannot imagine going well. My sporting prowess is limited to being good at Madden NFL and maybe the occasional good day on Wii Sports Bowling. I think he's been getting business coaching from some expensive online guru and he's been told that a good bonding exercise with management is to take them out on the golf course, where you can effectively have a meeting in the open air while walking around enjoying a shared activity. Personally, I can't imagine anything worse, and I hinted as much, suggesting that if we need to have any kind of discussion, maybe it would be better suited to an office, or a stroll around one of the holiday venues that he owns.  But no, for some reason that is lost on me, we are off to some snooty, snotty, overpriced club for wankers and middle-aged white men, to ruin our spines by swinging heavy bits of metal around while trying to get a small round object into a mousehole.
He did say he'd buy me breakfast before we started though, so I'm clinging to that as the one and only positive.

RC 27-4-25