... happened yesterday. I went and played Lawn Bowls at the Workingman's Bowling Club in Newtown, and it turns out that I am almost (but not quite) spectacularly bad. The one or two acceptable bowls were a direct result of the vodka I had (very cheap and thus, exceptionally good). Honestly, I have no idea if the bar can make a profit at the prices that they sell their alcohol. I highly suspect not.
Bex organised our team - the Berhampore Destroyers. And we were the Destroyed, we lost our two games in the round robin, the first not too badly, the second by (gulp) nine points. Yuck. Apparently the competitive streak that I thought I'd developed at derby doesn't translate to the humble art of lawn bowls. Or maybe it was the relaxing power of the gin. Mmm, gin.
I only took one photo. It's kind of shitty, so I decided to roll with it and I've turned it into a Polaroid. I just couldn't get enthusiastic about taking photos. I blame hanging out with a photographer.
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