I feel sure you have been wondering when you could expect an update on my progress with the Cribbage Group. Well, wonder no more - for here is the very latest from the Cribbage Front.
It is unfortunate that Mr B's Indoor Bowls overlaps with our fortnightly Tuesday afternoon cribbage get-together. This means that, even if I pick him up on the dot of 2.30 p.m. from the Bowling Club, even if we straightaway
head off to the house on the sea-front where our hosts and group conveners live, and even if we don't stop for Mr B to change out of his bowls gear - the very best we can manage is to arrive in time for the tea and biscuits.
This always seems a trifle rude to me - as if we only come for the refreshments. Mr B is not in the least bothered and points out that Delia and Jim's biscuits are worth arriving in time for. I have to agree. When we go to our
Evening Cribbage Group (please keep up, won't you?) we also have biscuits, served with fancy paper napkins and we pay 80p each for the privilege. Delia and Jim serve up equally delicious biscuits, without the paper napkins, at a cost of 30p each.
Mr B says I should be concentrating more on my game and less on the fact that there are white chocolate coated biscuits in Delia's biscuit tin. He reminds me that, last time we played,
I made two fundamental errors in a single game and was lucky indeed to escape relatively unscathed. This is the trouble when I am picked to play with, or against, Mr B - every teeny, weeny mistake is noticed. He doesn't say anything during
the game, of course (Mr B is far, far too professional for that) but because I know him so well my antennae pick up on the slight wince, the infinitesimal pursing of the lips which signal his disapproval.
You have to remember that, where cribbage is concerned, I am his pupil and he likes to tell people that I had a good teacher. Silly, unforced errors make him inclined to disown me - and then where would I be?
You are probably getting the idea that Mr B and I have a different approach to the game. Where did you get that idea from? It's quite true, of course - most noticeably in our conduct during a game. Mr B
would prefer to keep any conversation strictly to the progress of the game. I understand that this is called "concentration." I, on the other hand, love nothing more than to chat while I play. This afternoon my fellow game-players
and I talked about the last episode of Downton Abbey, the cost of cooking apples, the guest speaker at the next meeting of the U3A (the name of whom none of us can remember but we all seem to think he / she will be brilliant) and the fate of someone called
Annie, who fell flat on her back while travelling upwards on a moving escalator. In between which we played cards.
Playing every week at one group or the other, I am convinced that I will
improve. Mr B will smile at me, approvingly, as I peg out for a win. My fellow players will applaud me and ask me to help them with their own game. I will explain a little about the history of the game to anyone who cares to listen, giving the
impression that I know what I am talking about.
And I'll keep eating the white chocolate coated biscuits, as long as they still keep appearing in Delia's biscuit tin...