Returned, regrouped, back at work and feeling much warmer towards the teenagers after two glorious weeks in their company (well, the three who came with us). H is back from Ibiza looking like a god and S is back from Scotland, where he swanned around in his Mercedes-Benz, probably identified as a marauding Sassenach (although a quarter of his genes are Scots).
Yesterday, he and I played golf at Tadmarton Heath for the Old Bloxhamists' golf day and I came home having won a massive silver cup. Made son proud of his old dad but it will take some polishing for the next year before I have to return it to some other lucky winner. I'm tempted to photograph it for this blog, but that might be ott. Still, it was a good father/son bonding moment...
Tadmarton apparently means "where the toads cross".
That must go down as one of my favourite placenames, along with Piddletrenthide in Dorset, which always made me and Aunt Elizabeth chuckle when we drove to and from school in the 1960s.
