...and on to Rio.

I feel deeply saddened by the end of the Olympics.  I think  I have matured into them as I really couldn't be doing with them at all in my youth, and my Mum and Dad loved them.  Now I think they are the bees knees and I have raved on about them with Oliver glazing over on a regular basis.

Now I have to wait another four years to watch minority sports with a running commentary on the nuances of each and every rule.  Love it.
It also may have been because I have been hanging around at the Golf Club waiting for Oliver for up to two hours every day and so have been drip-fed the Olympics via big screen.  I have watched open swimming, the triathalon, Tae Kwon Do, rowing, gymnastics, diving, dressage, etc etc none of which I would bother to give the time of day for under normal circumstances, but hey - this is special.

Oliver's golf proved a successful choice of summer entertainment, and his week culminated in him achieving this:

which he is incredibly proud of.  It is for the most improved golfer of the week.  Since he was a complete beginner on Monday, he probably had a better chance than some of the others at this anyhow, as some seem like mini-pros already -  but I am not knocking this - it is a great achievement for him and I am ridiculously pleased for him and proud of him.

What else, hmmm, oh, I had a hideous haircut last week.  The girl who snipped it this time, or Edward Scissorhands as I now like to think of her, was the same one who did it last time, but she managed to hack Oliver's a tad short at the back, which he is none too pleased about and for some reason ballsed up my fringe so I look as if I popped in for a short-back-and-fruit-bowl cut in 1958.  Bloody hell.  I have spent the last five days grasping hold the fringe and dragging it across my forehead to hide the fact that it is waayyyyy too short and makes me look a bit simple.  Quite frankly I felt like demanding £20 off of her at the end for my trouble rather than handing it over as payment for a job done.  Pah.  I have at least another week of fringe-induced trauma ahead of me because of her and her over-eager scissor fingers. 

I swam again this morning and think that at the end of this week, I won't go again until next May, when the pool opens up for the 5 month early morning go-ers stint.  It's a bit tough getting up that early to swim, but it is a lovely feeling afterwards and I really think it is a far better exercise for my aching bones and muscles than anything else.   We'll see in May...

This week Oliver is playing out on the course, which is giving me more free time per day.  I spent yesterday trawling charity shops with my Mum (a much loved hobby) but they seemed full of modern, cheap tat and were quite depressing.  Today I intend to come home via Tesco (which I hate now - think it's gone way downmarket) and cook pretty cupcakes for Oliver as a treat.  And I shall crochet and indulge myself in a little catch up TV.  Oh yes, that's the kind of me -time I like. 

Only one al fresco opportunity last week.

Notice I have changed my customary diet coke for a glass of wine.  ha ha.  It was Friday.  There still is something a bit special about Friday, and the squeeze-yourself-with-joy feeling that Fridays bring.  Hence the wine. 

Laters.