Strike!

There was some discussion in the staff room today (in response to this post…click here) about what sort of ‘Grannie’ various individuals could identify with.

“I’m probably the Conservative Grannie,” declared one senior staff member, “But I wouldn’t go to Morning Melodies. I’d rather have my arm ripped off! And I wouldn’t play lawn bowls either for that matter.”

I was quite taken aback at her last remark. What’s wrong with lawn bowls? I’ve never been any good at organised physical activities and have always given team games a wide berth due to my lack of hand-eye-body-feet coordination. Lawn bowls could be the chance for me to finally shine in the sporting arena.

Tucked away in the back of my mind for the last forty years has been the idea that when all the other seventy year olds are hobbling around on their knee replacements, my knees will be perfectly intact due to a lack of previous over exertion. Lawn bowls doesn’t look hard… rolling a little ball along the ground. Surely even I will be able to master that. Plus there will be all the morning teas and happy hours, flirting with the old boys during the game and chuffing off to the Pokies with the girls and their hats crammed into a Morris Minor after the game to look forward to.

I tell a lie when I say I have NEVER played team sports. Once when I was about seventeen I joined a soft ball team called, “F Troop”. The name of the team reflected our talent and I only lasted one season after sustaining a black eye during training one day when I caught the ball with my face. 

There was also a time a couple of years ago when Scotto and I joined a Ten Pin Bowling League. I went to considerable expense and enthusiastically bought my very own custom-made bowling ball “Golden Boy #1” (the only piece of sporting equipment I’d ever owned in my life). 

We lasted the entire season, even attending the end of year Christmas party, but unexpectedly wound up having to pay for our own lunch because the team manager scandalously absconded with all the club funds at the end of the season. I believe there was a police investigation… the team was immediately disbanded and as Scotto and I couldn’t be arsed looking for another, that was the end of that.

For sale: Barely used Bowling Ball. Purchaser must have skinny fingers exactly the same shape as Pinky’s.