Throsty Thursday.

 I slept in this morning. Robert will already be at work and Peter will be getting ready for golf.

Peter has a thing about golf balls.

As I write he could be down by the creek retrieving lost golf balls.

My job today is to look after my grandson while his dad checks in at work. This is not as easy as it sounds because Harrison is on the move. With that in mind, I'm taking Shelley as a sort of backstop. Her job is to tackle him if he heads towards anything dangerous, like their TV or a power plug. Harrison is not far off walking and can crawl at about 60kph. His not-so-secret weapon is that he is so very cute! His grandma and grandad can't resist his charm!

Meanwhile, Peter will be climbing down the slippery slope to the creek. One must ask, "How much does he really need more golf balls?"

This obsession started in the 1970s, after the 3P, 4P, 5P, etc. years, when he used to go out to play golf with Tony and Mike. They were poor students and often couldn't afford golf balls so, before playing a free nine holes on the furthest part of the Berhampore Golf Course (the holes on the eastern side of the road to Island Bay and away from the clubhouse), they needed to find a few balls to play with.  Unfortunately, the Peter of the 2020s doesn't seem to realise that retrieving golf balls is no longer necessary. Maybe it makes him feel young again?

It's a cold old morning.

Robert will have driven to Eastbourne while listening to a Tent Horn podcast.

I don't know why Robert always seems to work in Eastbourne. Maybe that's where all the rich old people who can afford house cleaning live? 

Tent probably has a podcast about Lent.

"Today is a good day to talk about Lent with me using big words, and talking fast, to shove my silly ideas down your throats. If you lend money to someone, you would have been better off if you had lent it to the one true church."

Meanwhile Peter found another golf ball.

Okay, that's me for this morning.

Ciao tutti.