Today Mr B and I went along to the U3A's Enrolment Day. U3A stands for University of the Third Age and my cousin Mick and his lovely wife, Diane, say it's definitely the way to go in retirement.
Mr B took quite a lot of persuading - but only because, for some reason, he had got it into his head that U3A was some kind of spiritualist organisation. Once I had put him right on that one, he became quite keen, even
more so when he discovered that, among the many and varied activities on offer, was a Cribbage Group.
In the spirit of togetherness, I signed up to join the group with him.
It is only now, some hours later, that I wonder what I have let myself in for. Will I hold my own among the Cribbage Experts? Mr B taught me cribbage and likes to tell people this. "I taught her all she knows," he explained, with
quite unjustified pride, to the guy at the Cribbage Group Table. I giggled, nervously.
It is good to hear he has such confidence in me but, to be honest, my skills are
limited by the fact that I only ever really play cribbage on holiday. Holidays are when Mr B and I are wont to challenge each other to a cribbage tournament, played every day in that awkward period between coming up from the beach or pool and getting
ready to go down for dinner. Mr B has been playing crib since he was but a young man so it is quite a challenge to beat him. I find a large G & T, with ice and lemon, helps.
There are some
rather exciting cribbage boards around, as I discovered when googling images for today's blog. I particularly liked the one pictured which very much resembles one of my favourite games "The Game of Life" (see previous postings.) Mr B will doubtless
not approve. He will say that such fanciful creations trivialise a great game.
Anyway, I had planned to explain how to play cribbage, for any among you who haven't played this
fascinating and challenging game. But I had to delete everything I wrote. It really was total rubbish. Let's just say that there is very little chance that I will ever be commissioned to write "Essential Cribbage" or "Cribbage for
Absolute Beginners" or "Don't Jib about Crib."
Mr B was actually playing cribbage in the local pub one Sunday lunchtime when I went into labour with the Middle of the Darling Daughters. I had
to send my father to call him away from the action so that he could hold my hand and utter the odd encouraging word. He has never let me forget the fact that, due to my incredibly poor timing, he had to throw in a promising hand and forfeit
all his winnings. Half a crown, if you need to know, in those days when coins had proper names like "florin" and "farthing" and "bob".
I think it highly unlikely that anything even half so thrilling
will happen at the U3A Cribbage Group. But if, by any chance, it does then you will be the first to know. Promise!