Nothing to do with waterways really, except tangentially the river Usk... My sister lives in Newport, and so I therefore have very slightly more interest in the Ryder Cup than I would otherwise have had (i.e. zero, or even less if such a thing were mathematically possible). Golf is a sport(?) - well, a game at any rate - that I just do not get. Mark Twain wasn't far off in my book when he called it a good walk spoiled. It rivals even fishing for its proponents' capacity to spend vast sums of money on equipment they do very little with (yes, I know I spend vast sums of money on my hobby too, but at least I've got a bloody great boat to show for it). Anyway, that is neither here nor there; if you wish to walk round hitting a little ball with a stick and trying to get it into a hole (eighteen times), it's a free country and I will defend (albeit half heartedly and certainly not to the death) your right to do it (hmmm... apart from the environmental damage that golf courses do, of course).
But I digress. What's this all about? I thought at first this was going to be a piece about Virgin cabin staff. I'm used to seeing sports teams all dolled up in matching suits (well, most of them couldn't be trusted to dress themselves, could they) but these women's only connection with the team, and the only thing they have in common (well, apart from their faces, hair and teeth, obviously) is that they are the players' 'wives-and-girlfriends' (what we grown ups tend to call 'partners'). And yet not only has someone had the bright idea that they should sport a uniform, but a large number, if not all of them (please tell me there were some rebels) have acquiesced in it. Am I the only one who finds it a bit creepy?
Good Timing at Swinderby Station
1 day ago