When it comes down to it, it's all about winning - or losing. Today we marked the winning and the losing of a General Election and the 70th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. A war which was won, despite so
many lives lost. It makes you think, doesn't it?
My dear Mum always stressed the importance of being a good loser. My Dad, equally dear, used to tell us it was important to be a good winner. It's no wonder
we were confused children. Mr B much prefers being a good winner to being a good loser (doesn't everyone?) but, above all he believes in having "a good game."
When he first joined a local table tennis club,
many years ago, he won only one match in the whole of his first season. Was he down-hearted? Well, yes, probably a bit - but he would arrive home from every match saying that, though he might have lost, he had given his opponent a cracking good game. My Mum
would have been proud of him. As so was I.
Today when the Bacon Bap Brigade congregated in the cafe at the Heene Community Centre, I made sure to ask my friend Avril if she was a winner today. Avril isn't
a member of the choir these days, as she plays short mat bowls in the main hall while we choristers are chirruping away about the beauty of the Blue Danube, what happens when Love Walks in and the ancient grandfather, he of the ticking clock which stopped
short, never to go again, when the old man died.
The Short Mat Bowlers take a break at around 10.30, a time when our choir is, or should be, in full flow. So as well as asking after her success on
the bowls mat, I also like to know whether she thought we were in good voice today. The answer today was no - and no.
Still there is always cribbage tonight. Last time we met up at the Delightful Diana's,
I had a simply dreadful evening, playing against Mr B and Pat, my friend from The Birdy Group. Not a single game did I win and, although I did my best to be a good loser, it was a bit of a struggle. Indeed when the Birdy Group convened three days later, Pat
was concerned that I might not be talking to her anymore. However today is Another Day and I will turn up with my best face on, ready to do battle. In the nicest possible way.
There were quite a few good winners
and good losers in the General Election, I thought. I loved the way Ed Balls gallantly applauded the Conservative winner of his former seat and his gracious speech of surrender; I liked the fact that David Cameron, while flushed with unexpected victory as
he stood at the dais outside Number 10, was swift to thank Nick Clegg for his support in the past five years and Ed Miliband for Fighting a Good Fight. I have friends who support various political parties and none, so it seems right to reflect that there have
been good winners and losers on all sides. Like me, certain brave souls had clearly been Well Brought Up.
It is now three hours later and I have returned from our cribbage evening with my metaphorical
tail between my legs. I played with Judith against Jo and, you've guessed it, Mr B. He complained all evening about how tired he was (having risen early to watch the Election results come in) but still managed to win all four of the games we played.
I cannot blame my coalition partner, who played extremely well. I fear that my campaign to take charge of the game and beat down the opposition was simply not good enough and I have to take full responsibility.
Resign? Not jolly likely!