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Checking the time I realise dinner has taken a lot longer than expected and everyone will be home within the next hour so I rush upstairs and bump into Mr Klay on the landing. His hair is ruffled, his pale skin flushed and his once neatly pressed suit is now crinkled. That will teach him for moving my furniture around every twelve months!"Ah Mr Klay, I am just going to run myself a bath. When you have finished your inspection could you please be a dear and let yourself out?" I ask whilst. “Right” I nodded. “They’re quite a pair”. Craig had arrived several hours after me because he had been riding with a friend from out of town who was a painfully slow cyclist. He had pitched his tent about 30 feet from mine. When Julie was with me he had not yet arrived so we knew he had not seen us together at all. Craig had been doing the ride for almost 20 years and knew everyone in our small group of riders better than most. He had a very easy way about him and was one of those people that. She had won a hundred pounds and the champagne at Bingo, and was celebrating. While Glenda went into the kitchen for glasses, Miriam and I opened the bottle. Having been shaken on route, it opened with a bang and spumed over the top soaking my trousers at the crotch."Take them off!" cried Miriam and tugged at them on my legs. I had no option, so I dropped my drawers to shrieks of laughter. So, I was sitting there displaying all, when Glenda came in with the wine glasses. We toasted her success. The white loses power, and as it rolls to a stop about three inches from the black ball, the green travels delicately, almost nonchalantly, into the corner pocket, the soft click of it hitting the other balls, already casualties to her skill, the only announcement of success. She doesn’t blink. The white sits on a line with the black, but isn’t straight to the pocket. It’s an angled shot, needing an edge and a master’s touch – too much force will push the ball off line, and too little will deny.
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