The Mulligan

Blipping when you’ve had a few drinks needs to be undertaken with great care and the results will largely depend on your personal definition of “a few”.

Reading back what I had sat and pecked out by the river in the early hours of this morning, I was disappointed to find that what had seemed quite funny and coherent at that time, was in fact completely bladdered stream of consciousness gibberish, so I thought I would grant myself a blip do-over or in golfing parlance: take a mulligan.

It had also been a lovely day and to reduce it down to inebriated waffle would be to do a disservice to the 15k I had run that morning (the furthest distance I have run yet with only some stiff legs to contend with). The run also helped me get over the wee ones going home after our lovely week together. Fortunately, The Eldest was still with me so we took a stroll into town for some lunch whilst she got some stuff off her chest. With it being such a lovely day, there was no way I wanted to spend it indoors, so we packed the picnic blanket and some snacks and wandered up to the cricket club where I tried to convince my 16-year old daughter that cricket has some fine virtues, but she wasn’t having it.

Before long it was time to meet Russ and have a couple of beers in a very quiet Kendal town. That was until we heard the music blasting out of The George and Dragon and went inside to investigate. That was when the dancing began and two ladies bought Russ and I some shots because we were “nice guys”. I have an annoying Pavlovian response to hearing Mr Brightside by The Killers and instead of just singing along to it, feel the need to “perform” it with some heartfelt interpretive dance. I must look like a complete tool when I do it - I’m a 43 year-old man for goodness sake!

That said, we all need to cut loose and tear it up once in a while. If we can’t take a moment every now and then to dance like no one is watching, then it’s a bit of a poor do.

That’s my excuse anyway.