September

[Sweder]

An ugly scrape in perfect conditions; thin yet uninhibited sunshine, high, wispy cloud, a cool breeze and damp (but not wet) underfoot. Yesterday's golf had taken a heavy toll. Not, as you might expect, via hearty imbibing, but through five hours of trudging up and down hills, swatting unresponsive, elusive pills and wondering how it is that a man can strike the ball perfectly well one minute and like a punch-drunk novice the next.

I chugged about without enthusiasm, turning my back on the shortest of circuits. I'm moving on up, even on days like this, so the minimum run has to be over three miles. Another scheduled for the morning, this will be a five mile minimum, hopefully closer to seven. An early night seems the best way to see off my current lethargy, so it's Dr Who and bed for me.