Went bowling last night for the first time since…err…high school, when I took a bowling class to get out of P.E.

If it wasn’t for the bowling leagues full of elderly men, I’d say I’m too old for bowling–four games, and my back aches, and my inner elbow is stretched and abused. I am woefully out of shape, or possibly I was using too heavy a ball and throwing myself rather too hard into it. My painting arm is informing me that it can be a painting arm, or a bowling arm, and I should pick which one. I have apologized and offered to buy it flowers, but it’s still grumpy.

On the bright side, I did 140, which, while paltry in general terms, is pretty good for me. James…well, let’s just say that bowling isn’t James’s sport. He has great power and lousy aim, which reportedly made him the terror of schoolyard baseball teams. I’ve never seen him split firewood, and perhaps I don’t want to.

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