Ick

I’ve been ill, on and off for the last few weeks. Not seriously ill, not even man-flu (thank God). Just a succession of colds. Each time I think I am over a cold a new one emerges. I am now well and truly fed up of it. I am also fed up of being treated as a latter-day Typhoid Annie, blamed when anyone else in the office succombs.

There is now an urgency in my need to recover. The European Quiz Championships start in 2 days – the individual contest being 3 days away. Competing with a thick cold has in the past cost me at least 10% of what I could otherwise have scored. All thought processes slow. Valuable thinking time is wasted in the fumbling search for a tissue or a Locket [tm] to suck on. It is a struggle just to focus on what you are being asked.

It has been a while since I have competed in a top flight quiz feeling on top form. Lack of sleep, or illness have hit my performances. It hasn’t made a great difference in the grand scheme of things, but you just know when you are firing on all cylinders. It would be nice for once to sit down at the start of a competition with a clear head and be able to focus fully on the task ahead.

So as I write this I am supping hot water with a slice of lemon in it. I’ve popped a couple of Beecham’s capsules and I have a tube of Lockets comfortingly to hand. I feel better today than yesterday, which has to be a positive sign. So I hope I will be functioning somewhere near to my best when Saturday comes.

I am woefully under-prepared compared with where I would like to be. I’ve done much less revision than planned. However compared with last year my preparation is streets ahead, and I did pretty well last year. Unfortunately I feel it will be tougher. This year’s contest has been written by an international panel. With the fiendish Belgian question setters having played a role it could be traumatic. What will be will be.

The onward march of middle age

I was a little concerned a while back that in liking painting and gardening I was becoming middle aged. Well if these were the warning signs, surely it was confirmed a few months back when I took up golf.

I think it is the knowledge that save for a miracle my cricketing days are nearer the end than the beginning that drove me to it. When I started playing cricket in 95 I had never been coached, had played it twice at school and other than that it was back garden or park stuff. In 95 I started playing for a team in Kent called Beltinge. They welcomed me because I was committed. My ability was less important than the fact that I would turn up every week.

I used to bat at numbers 10 or 11. Occasionally I would bat higher. I remember one attempt at opening the innings. I didn't last long. As I moved round the country in subsequent years I worked on my batting but was still very much a low order batsman. Then about 7 years ago I transformed myself into a stubborn but not spectacular opening batsman. I started by becoming difficult to dismiss, then added more attacking shots. By 2004 I had got to the point that I won the League batting award. Added to there were sundry club awards. 2005 and 2006 saw me score fourteen 50s in total and amass loads of runs.

However things are now not so rosey. From 7 50s in 2006 I dropped to 2 last year. What was worse was that I knew I wasn't playing as well as I could. Partly it was due to a lack of fitness, partly to a niggling back injury, but I felt that it was also partly that maybe I had peaked the season before and was now on the decline.

Having fought so hard to get my batting up to standard I am not sure how much longer I can play when I know I am not playing well. And if I find myself dropping down the order again, at what point do I call it a day?

Because of this I took up golf. I've fancied it for a while. It's a sport that you never master. It's also a sport that you can play on your own. This appeals to me. If I fail with the bat at cricket I let my team down. If I play a bad round at golf it only impacts on me.

Now I'm not that great yet. I still have the beginners' handicap of 28. The lessons are ongoing and I really enjoy it. Yes I play some god-awful shots but the occasional good shots erase the bad ones from my mind.

So if this is middle age then I think I welcome it. There's a lot to be said for being content with yourself.