July 19th 2020

Today I had a run, a roast, and a round of golf. That’s pretty fucking close to a perfect Sunday. There’s not much missing from that. That’s the holy trinity of Sunday activities.

I woke up at my sister’s feeling pretty hungover, then drove to my Mum’s. Before I could nap, I went out for a run. It was the first time in my (so far) 11 weeks of running every day where I’ve not done a loop of Cheltenham’s Pittville Park. It was weird to mix up the route, but I didn’t really have any choice. So I kind of just freestyled a five k route of the forest area near my parent’s house.

Next, Mum made a roast. Gammon this time. Damn fine, divine and splendid, as ever. Beautifully glazed with honey and mustard. A staple part of a Sunday as good as this one.

After dinner, Dad and I went to play golf. It was the first time I’ve swung a club in going on 6 months, and you could kinda tell. I wasn’t terrible, I was just terribly inconsistent, and could not function with a wedge in my hand. My driver and irons were mostly fine, but my short game was the worst thing happen to wedges since sweet potatoes.

Nevertheless, it was nice to cap an almost perfect Sunday with a game of golf. We went at twilight, so I was pretty knackered by the end and my game suffered. My game also suffered due to my inability to hit a wedge out the face of the club.

Dad won.

Until tomorrow, if Carlsberg made Sundays, I probably would’ve beaten him.


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