What I Did On My Holidays. Day 3.

Middle age brings an ability to be excited by the mundane. So it is that the delivery of  a new fridge to the Roberts' coastal estate was yesterday's big news. It completes the refurbishment of the kitchen undertaken by my own artisan hands. The walls are magnolia (it looks better than it sounds) and the panelling is a brighter shade of green than Sharon would have chosen but I was alone in B&Q when I made the choice. The piece de resistance is the new floor - self-adhesive vinyl tiles which, if I say so myself, look rather bloody marvellous.

But the fridge is not all that happened yesterday. I played golf - nine holes (for that is all there is) at Baron Hill Golf Club in Beaumaris. I am considering taking up country membership. I hardly ever play these days but the price, typically of this blessed island, is far from ruinous and the occasional holiday dalliance with the stupid game might be welcome. The course is apparently the oldest nine hole course in Wales and it is rocky, hilly, charming and suitably forgiving to what I now am - a duffer prone to unlikely outbursts of competence.



I took this from the Overgraduate chopper yesterday.
It took me ages to paint those white lines on the golf course. 

 Chilean sauvignon blanc again yesterday while watching the excellent Homeland. Tonight,  barbecue with Pol Pot's friendlier younger brother, Roger.