East meets West

What a great start to Autumn, this weekend has been brilliantly sunny and warm. On Saturday, Anna and I decided to take advantage of this and head out to Greenwich and follow a pub walk out that way from my CAMRA London Pub Walks book. Neither of us had been out to Greenwich since we had visited there nearly ten years ago when Anna was living here and I came over for a holiday.

The day actually started off with an excellent brunch at The Providores in Marylebone, Peter Gordon's restaurant in London (he's a Kiwi if you didn't know). We then traveled down to Greenwich to visit a few pubs.

After a pleasant pint in the sun at The Ashbourne Arms, we made our way to the main course, The Greenwich Union pub, which is the brewery tap for the Meantime Brewery - who produce an interesting array of beers, many of classic world styles. Sitting out in the back garden, I added a few more ratings and enjoyed a varied collection of brews. The pick for me being the Coffee, which was full of deliciously strong coffee flavours with chocolate and vanilla notes. Would be great as an after dinner drink (and served a little bit warmer).
After satiating my thirst for beer for the afternoon, we left The Greenwich Union and took a wander through Greenwich Park, heading up to the Observatory and the impressive views over London. That's Canary Wharf in the middle-ground, and the building off to the right of the main cluster being the Barclays building where I work.
Crossing into the Eastern Hemisphere, we had one more drink at the Plume & Feathers - meaning we had a drink in two hemispheres in one day. We then headed back across to the Western Hemisphere and on into town to meet Si & Kellie, and capped off a great day with a few more drinks and an excellent pizza in Belgravia. With some busy weekends ahead of us, it was nice for this one be so enjoyable and relaxing.

Down he goes!

It finally happened - I've finally had an accident on my bike. Riding home tonight I was charging along the bike lane in the middle of the city with a good easterly behind me. Traffic was at a stand-still and I was going along the inside of a bus, when suddenly....

Some guy steps out from in front of the bus (he must have been crossing the road through the traffic). Traveling at 35-40kph and with about 3 metres to react, reactions kicked in and I hit the brakes and took my foot out of the pedal and pushed it into the road. I even managed to swerve around him. But he was also swinging a bag as he walked and I took that bag right in the dial. From there my balance was gone as I careered into the gutter where at some stage I fell over and finally stopped when my bike struck a pole.

Admittedly, my first thought as I was sitting there was - "I hope my bike is alright". The guy who had stepped out came up asking me if I was OK and was very apologetic. There was no point having a go at him as we all cross the road like that from time to time, so I let him know I was OK and told him not to worry. I certainly didn't feel like I had been hurt and a quick once over of the bike told me that miraculously it also seemed it had escaped unscathed. He then told me I had blood coming out from a cut on my nose, which I later worked out was when his bag had hit my glasses, which had then punctured my nose. Dusting myself off and settling the nerves, I had no other choice but to get back on the bike and ride the remaining 12kms or so home. Patting each other on the back and shaking hands, I left my recently made acquaintance and took off again on the bike, although a little more slowly and with one hand pressing a dirty bike rag against my bleeding snoze.

Amazingly, I cannot detect any damage to my bike, except for a few scratches on the tyre rims, and apart from the cut on my nose, I don't seem to have any other scrap on my body. All I can suppose is that I was able to keep my bike and body from scrapping along the ground with my foot and had slowed down enough before I hit that pole. So I am considering myself pretty lucky. Though it is quite ironic that for all my running of red lights and swerving through traffic, the first fall off my bike was not my fault. Lets hope it is a long time until my next one!

Round-about

Sitting at my new desk this week, with my view out east over the Thames, I was able to monitor the progress of a large cruise ship coming up the river. Then, as it got right in front of me, the tug boats started turning it around. Couldn't work out what was happening at first, but then realised that it was to tow the ship backwards up the rest of the river as it obviously doesn't have enough room to turn where it docks. Apparently, all the large ships turn at the same spot. I thought it was interesting stuff....

On Ya Bike: The Peak District

With everyone away for the Bank long weekend, Jabs, Tarns and I came up with a good way to amuse ourselves on Bank Holiday Monday. Having not been on a decent bike ride since France last year, we were keen to get out of London and clock up some serious miles - a good but of climbing wouldn't go amiss either. After a bit of searching the on the internet I found what looked like an interesting ride up in the Peak District.

Some on the Monday morning we jumped on to our bikes and rode to Kings Cross to catch our morning train up to Chesterfield, which is just east of the Peak District. This of course nicely increased the length of our ride so that we could raise the bat - taking the distance from 62km loop to 110kms all up - and the total climbing to somewhere in the vicinity of 1300 metres. Arriving in Chesterfield we keenly jumped on our bikes and headed out of Chesterfield.

I quickly made friends with locals on our short trip out of town. Riding a little out from the side of the road because of debris, I got a couple of short blasts of a horn as some idiot went by me with plenty of room to pass. As luck would have it, he pulled over just 200 metres up the road and as he was getting out of the car I rode past him and mumbled something to me. I kindly let him know that "there was plenty of room back there, mate", of which his reply as I rode off was "(mumble, mumble), you little prick". Friendly fella!

So with the cheerful Chesterfield locals behind us, we got into the impressive countryside and started some serious riding. The weather wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worse either. There was the odd shower which departed as quick as it arrived, though that was because of the quite significant Northwester wind we had to toil into for the first half of the ride. But we didn't mind, he was just great to be out and riding without having to stop at lights every kilometre.

The first hour or so of the ride was pretty uneventful, with plenty of rolling hills to keep the legs working and plenty of stunning views to keep the eyes amused. Dropping into Hope Valley we had our sites set on Castleton for some good pub grub to refuel the body. Though not before we came across what we did not expect to see - a traffic jam. The cars were backed up for about 2kms and we were starting to wonder whether we would have to put up with this the whole ride. But then we came across the cause of the commotion, the Hope Show - Hope being the local town. Resisting the urge to join the locals for the agricultural show and sheepdog trials, we were in fact glad to be past the cars and back up to a good speed. And even better, lunch was just around the corner.

Pulling into Castleton we spied Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese and thought that looked a good spot for lunch. Stepping into the pub, I kindly asked the rustic bar tender whether there was anywhere we could put I bikes while we had lunch. Replying with a grasp of english that told of some mis-spent school years "I don't think we could put them anywhere here". Looking around at all the space in the pub, I shrugged my shoulders and considered that maybe we had had a lucky escape. Two doors up was The Peaks Inn, were young lady behind the bar said no worries and showed us where we could leave our bikes out back. The pub certainly looked pretty popular and stayed that way despite a trio of smelly cyclists. Ordering the chili con carne with a side of spicy cheesy chips, Jabs and I also indulged in a pint of Black Sheep Bitter. Of course, what we hadn't seen before we ordered was the sign saying "We might not cook your food quickly, but we will make it tasty". And mindful of the fact that we did have a train to get back for, we did have to wait a while for the food. But it was certainly tasty and it didn't take 3 hungry riders long to tuck away their lunch.

Lunch over and we were back on the saddle and taking a wrong turn. Fortunately it only cost us 10 minutes or so, though most of that was uphill. Knowing what I did 15 minutes later, I wish that wrong turn had lead somewhere else. The direction we were suppose to take was through Speedwell Cavern up to Winnats Pass - that's that very steep climb in the profile map above. But it wasn't the steepness that was so much the problem, but the funneling of the wind coming through the thin gorge - and those spicy cheesy chips weren't helping either. Halfway up we were reduced to just being able to rotate the pedals every 2 seconds or so and the wind was just about blowing us off our bikes. So, we had to do the unthinkable and dismount and push our bikes up the rest of the gorge. Nothing a biker ever likes to do (it is not comfortable in the cleats for a start), but there was no other way we could have got safely up that gorge.



Happy to be riding again, we were off again and now very much looking forward to turning around and having the wind behind us. That finally happened after we got to Glossop and what a relief it was - it made quite a difference to our average speed as well. Just after Glossop we hit what was probably the best bit of the ride, and climb up and descent from Snake Pass. The ascent was all up a new piece of smooth road and the gradient was consistent all the way up, and with that wind now behind us you could get into a great rhythm. After the climbs into the wind, this was a joy. And the reward, the descent that lasted 20kms and only required a rotation of the pedals every now and then - and much appreciated rest after that slogging into the wind. We were no on the homeward stretch, though the bodies were now starting to feel the effects of a long hard ride. With only one hard climb left though, we steeled our muscles and headed for home.

In the end, despite some concerns a little earlier in the day, we cruised into the train station with 20 minutes to spare before our 6.40pm departure. The bodies were definitely weary, but there were smiles all round after such a good ride. Of course those smiles doubled on the train journey home when I pulled out my special stash of peanut slabs that I had brought along for a reward. Though we might have been the only people smiling on that carriage, sitting there in our smelly sweaty bike gears!

The 2 hours return trip to London was more than long enough for us to start dreading the ride home from the station. Though surprisingly, we hadn't seized up as much as we thought our the gentle cruise home was nearly enjoyable. With the ride to Kings Cross and back, that took the clock up to 144kms for the day - a distance I have only beaten on the Round Lake Taupo rides. Getting home though, I was very happy to have a shower and tuck into the leftover lentil curry from the night before. And boy did I sleep well that night!









For some more pics, click here.

Therapy

Last week we did it very tough, holidaying on a boat in the Med off the southern coast of France. By way of explanation, Anna's father (Martin) purchased a 42-foot yacht (called Therapy) in the south of France last year and this was his first year using it. So lucky for us, we also get to take advantage.

Anna had already spent a couple of weeks on the boat (lucky for some!), but for this week Jabs, Brad, Sharon and I went down to join them. We meet them in Toulon, which is the boat's main port of call. We were fortunately joining them just at the end of a week of very high winds, which lash the southern French coast once a summer (it's called the Mistral and is absolutely brutal, with consistent winds of over 50kph). Apart from that they had had excellent weather - which you would expect from the Med - with temperatures in the high-30s. Though the temperatures didn't quite get that high (thank god!), we still had pretty good weather for our week with temperatures in the low 30s.

Straight off we headed out of Toulon the next morning, keen to see how Therapy sailed and get some swimming time. The boat was loaded up with plenty of food, beer and rose, so we had no need to come back to terra firma for a couple of days. The first days sailing tested out our sea legs, and though some of the crew were a little pale-faced for a couple of hours, everyone handled it pretty well. We anchored up in a bay and had our first dip in the Med - apparently the water was quite a bit cooler than it had earlier in the summer, but I didn't mind as it was refreshing. Then we spent the evening doing what was going to be a pattern for the rest of the week, eating plenty of delicious French food and drinking not-so-delicious French beer (though the rose was quite good by all accounts).

After a surprising good sleep overnight (must be the gentle rocking), we took a leisurely cruise over to another island and anchored up for an easy day of eating, drinking, swimming and working on the tan. An interesting encounter happened later in the day when a kiwi guy sided up to us in his Dingy and had a chat with us. He was also anchored in the same cove as part of an America's Cup promotion trip along the Med coast (we later found out he is a big-wig in NZ yachting and is the Senior Race Officer for next year's America's Cup - after doing the same for the two in NZ).

Waking up to a mill pond Med the next morning, we got away early with the intention of mooring at the St Tropez marina and mixing with the A-list celebrities that go there. Our supplies were low as well - and we couldn't survive with our increasingly frequent need for food and beer (it's hard work lying on the deck of a boat!). Unfortunately we couldn't get in, but we could get a mooring at Port Grimaud just around the corner. A bizarre place this, only built 20 years ago from marshland, it looks like they have tried to create a mini-Venice. Not quite my type of place, but could have been a lot worse and was a bit of a laugh. Especially the conversation we had with guy who (eventually) showed us to our mooring....
- "What are you doing?" (in a typical abrupt French accent)
- "We are waiting for the Capitan" (which we had been told to do)
- "What!" (in an even more abrupt French accent)
- "We are waiting for the Capitan"
- "I am the Capitan!" (which we couldn't stop mimicking for the rest of the trip)


The next morning, Martin and I anchored up the boat outside St Tropez while the others took the dinghy and cruised in to check it out for a couple of hours (I had been before many years ago) and get some more ever important baguettes. Reports of enough plastic surgery to make your recycling bin jealous were not surprising and we were happy to be heading off again. Before we did though, we stopped for lunch off a beach around from St Tropez that is famous for being popular with the who's who (apparently Paris Hilton was there just a couple of days earlier). There were certainly plenty of very large (and, we can assume, very expensive) launches also anchored off the beach - or 'gin palaces' as Martin likes to call them. But we were very happy with our little boat and after lunch set sail for another relatively quiet spot out in the islands again.

We managed to get a superb anchorage in Port Cros, which is an island that is a National Park. There were plenty of fish about who decided seem to mind our stale baquettes and we had a great day swimming and diving off the boat - this is what the holiday was all about. So good in fact we intended to stay there the next day. However, with reports of there being quite strong westerly winds over the next two days (we needed to head east), we decided to get away so we could get to Sanary-sur-Mur, a little town Anna had visited before and wanted to take us to.

And it was certainly worth the effort - and it was a bit of an effort, having to fight a reasonably strong westerly to get there. We stayed our last two nights there, moored in the marina and took the opportunity to go out for a couple of very nice dinners. Sanary was just a cute French seaside village, not too many tourists and those tourists that were there were French, and good little pastiseries and a morning market.

It was with a lot of resignation that we departed Saturday morning for the final sail back to Toulon before heading back to London. But we made the most of it with a cracking sail, making quick work of getting back to Therapy's home marina. Though it wasn't without drama, with the Genoa sail getting ripped (thankfully it probably needed replacing anyway) and some difficult maneuvering to moor in the Toulon marina where we had lots of little French men giving us the steely eye.

But we got away safely (though reluctantly) that afternoon - though this holiday wasn't done with us yet. We had heard about the security scare earlier in the week and the delays it was causing, so we weren't expecting a smooth trip back. But none of us thought much of the 2-hour queue to check in and then the 3-hour delay to take-off. Ironically, they told us it wasn't so much the increased security that had delayed the plane, but the baggage system at Gatwick going down earlier in the day. We eventually landed back in London at 2.30am (scheduled arrival was 11.30pm), but then had to also wait another 30-minutes in the plane because no one was there to connect the stairs to the plane! To make matters worse, we missed the 3.15am train back into London by a matter of minutes and were told a taxi would be a 45-minute wait and £100. So we gotourselvess a coffee and waited for the 4.15am train, finally getting home at about 5am! So a bit of a bummer end to the trip, but we still had Sunday to recover and nothing could really get us down after such an awesome week.

P.S. Being back on terra firma was an interesting experience, taking a while to get our "land legs" back and catching yourself swaying.





For some more pics, click here.

GBBF 2006









I've be waiting for it all year since I attended last year and finally it came around again. For a beer nut like myself, it is like going to heaven. For those of you I haven't bored silly by describing it before, the Great British Beer Festival is an annual 6-day event organised by CAMRA. This year they had a record 66,000 visitors and over 450 real ales available to try (many of which I wouldn't normally get the chance to get).

Because of trips either side of the festival, I could only get to the festival two nights - Tuesday and Thursday. However, I was determined to make the most of those nights as well as pulling along as many GBBF novices as possible. Tuesday night was probably the pick of the two nights, being opening day it was a little quieter, so we managed to grab ourselves a table and didn't have to wait to be served all night. I managed to taste 8 new beers - half pints are the order of the day, allows you to taste more and also gives you the chance of getting poured too much (3/4 pints are not uncommon - the pick of the night being the Alcazar Mocha Stout. I managed to pull along a few more for the Thursday night, which was a lot busier. However, this didn't stop us getting to a few more tasty ales, 9 for me on this night, the pick being the gravity-fed Northern Two Tone Special.

A list of other ales tasted - Castle Rock Flying Ant, Arundel Sussex Gold, Ossett Yorkshire Glory, Naylors Sparkeys Monday Night Mild, Mallard Waddlers Mild, Sierra Nevada Porter, Why Not Chocolate Nutter, Triple fff Moondance, Beartown Ambeardextrous, Stewart Edinburgh #3, Glastonbury Mystery Tor, Bradfield Farmers Brown Cow, Brown Cow How Now, Buffys Mild, Burton Bridge Empire Ale.

Not a bad one among them and all a treat.

Fore













The weekend following the trip to Spain for Fiberfib, with Anna away in the south of France, Jabs and I got an invite from Andy P to head up to Gleneagles, where he has been working this summer, to join him for a round of golf and a cheap stay at the hotel. Well, it seemed stupid to refuse, so we organised a fleeting trip up North for a bit of sport and luxury.

Of course it wasn't all easy as we had to make the 14 hour round trip over two days. Started with an early 6am wake up Saturday morning and getting to Kings Cross to make our 8am train up to Stirling - where Andy was to pick us up. Armed with a Frappuccino (my new vice) and an arm full of papers, we settled in for the long trip - which went surprisingly quickly, though we had our afternoon round to look forward to and take our minds off it.

Driving into Gleneagles itself, it is quite impressive. It has 3 and a half golf courses (the half being a 9-hole par 3 course) and the hotel is an impressive site. After much deliberation and discussion, we had decided to play the PGA Championship course - which hosted the Johnny Walker Championship only a month earlier (so it was in top nick) and is the venue for the Ryder Cup in 2014. To play on such a course was too much of an opportunity to miss. The Kings Course is a more classic Scottish Links Course and looked pretty good too - there is always next time!

Having not played golf in something like 2 years I was not only rusty but also a little unprepared. Luckily, Andy was able to set us up with all the goodies - the hire clubs (gratis) were brand new top-of-the-line Callaways (they replace their hire clubs every year!), balls, tees, etc, and a couple of carts to boot. He even managed to rustle up a foursome - Stewart, a Londoner he meet on a golf trip and who plays at Gleneagles often. The only thing Andy couldn't sort out was the weather, but more about that later.
So standing on the 1st tee, despite the beautiful views, there was some trepidation about the golf that was to come. Not only that, there was pressure on a little wager between Jabs and myself for a dram on Scotland's finest later that evening in the hotel. And to be honest, it was pretty rough over the first 9 holes. Though not helped by some sabotage from Jabs on the 2nd tee, timing his camera click with the top of my back swing. So after the front 9, and too many 3-putts than I want to remember, I had the unfortunate total of 54, just proving my rustiness and also the difficult of the course (you do not want to find the rough!). However, fortunately for my wallet (more of that later), Jabs was finding it just as difficult and I had a comfortable lead in our little match.

But things were about to make a turn for the better. Putting my tee shot on the par-3 10th, I pulled off what was a pretty impressive sand-save (if I do say so myself) and notched up my first par of the day. And this was just the start, as I then managed to give myself sinkable putts on the next two holes for birdies. Unfortunately, though I was finding some form tee-to-green, my putting was still lacking somewhat, but I still managed to pick up another two pars, making that 3 on the trot and even par through the back-9 at that stage.

But this wasn't to be our day. Scotland, like the rest of Britain, having not seen any rain for about a month, decided to try and make up for it in one late afternoon. We were determined to not let it get the better of us, and though getting thoroughly soaked, we played through another couple of holes, though the quality of golf was definitely slipping. However, it was on our 14th hole we decided we needed to let the weather win. Jabs, playing an approach shot into the green, had the club slip in his hand and managed to somehow thread the ball between Andy's face and the windscreen on the cart parked just to right of where he was playing his shot. It was hear that we decided that a couple of beers in the warm clubhouse sounded pretty good. Making the most of the facilities, we showered up and headed up to the bar, where we watched the rain suddenly let up and the last bit of sun come out! Though there was no way we could have continued as the course was quite water-logged.

So we hatched some plans for a curry in the town before heading back to the hotel for the receipt of my prize dram. It was our drams that caused us some shock later that evening as we settled in at the Hotel bar. Having recently purchased a bottle of Dalwhinnie for £25, we were somewhat surprised to find out that our dram of the same whiskey at the Hotel was a whopping £11.50. After some quick (and unnecessary) calculations we worked out they were making some mark-up.

The Hotel itself was impressive and wasn't lacking of much. Of course, I had to scare my room with this scary man, but apart from that, it was interesting to think that just a year ago, Tony, George W and the rest of the boys were lolling around the same place. Getting our slightly foggy heads out of bed the next morning, we didn't know that the best was still to come - the breakfast. There wasn't anything that was bad - the juice, the coffee, the fruit, the eggs, the Scottish flat bread, the sausages - but what really stood out was the black and haggis pudding. I should have smuggled half-a-dozen of each as I have been remincising ever since.

After a sizeable breakie, we used our last hour or so to have a wander around the impressive ground of the Hotel (in beautiful sunshine of course) - which include a hedge maze and a falconry.

We then had to jump back on the train that morning and arrived back in London on that Sunday evening. So a heady trip for a round of golf, but well worth it despite the weather. Was great to catch up with Andy again, who is in fine form and enjoying is time up north. I got a little bit of the golf-bug back and may even contemplate a return trip to get 18 holes next time.

For some more pics, click here.

FiberFib 2006

FiberFib you ask? Stands for Festival Internacional de Benicassim, which is the music festival we recently went to in Spain. Benicassim is where it was held, which is on the coast about an hour north of Valencia.

First thing to comment on is - man it was hot! OK, it has also been pretty hot in London, but this was another step up again. The temperatures were consistently in the high 30s and the nights were incredibly warm. So we packed pretty light. Because of the heat, the music festival actually ran through the night, typically starting at about 7pm each day and going through to around 7am - with the big acts each night coming on at around 1.30am. This meant we also had plenty of time during the day to hang out by the pool and lay on the beach. But what it also meant was that there wasn't a lot of sleeping going on - I think I got the grand total of 10 hours sleep over the four days I was there!

The festival itself was very good. It didn't have some of the big names it has had in previous years and had quite a few old school acts (Madness, Depeche Mode, Morrissey). However, Franz Ferdinand were brilliant, as were The Kooks, who are my band of the summer. We also spent a lot of Friday night in the Silent Disco, which was classic. By way of explanation, the Silent Disco was a small marquee where you were given a pair of headphones as you entered. You had the choice of listening to two DJs as it was quite humourous looking around and seeing people dancing to completely different tracks. Even better was taking your headphones off when a popular song was played and listening to people singing to themselves. Here's a picture below of us in the Silent Disco along with a bit of festival action from Jabs and Fi.
Apart from the Festival, we also had a good time chilling out during the day. This usually took the form of laying by the pool at our camp ground (where we stayed in bungalows that in another country might be called a sauna - who builds with wood in Spain!); or heading down to the beach - where the Med was similar to bath water.

By the end of the 4 days the twelve of us were all looking the worse for wear and in need to a decent night's sleep and a good shower. We stopped off in Barcelona for a last top up of tapa's at a bar Anna and I found when we were last there in January, and eventually arrived back home at 1.30am. But it was all worth it as it was a fun trip.

For some more pics, click here.

It's a hot one!

Man is it hot over here, I've never experienced a summer like it. Sunny hot day after sunny hot day. More days than not are over 30 degrees and I could count the number of clouds I have seen in the past month on one hand (OK, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, maybe one hand and a thumb). Suppose to be the hottest day yet tomorrow, with the forecast of 36 degrees, but a 30% chance it could get to 39 degrees (which would be a record for Britain)!

Sunday Ramble

Well, with all this great weather, the crew decided to take off on the Sunday for a bit of a ramble down in the Surrey countryside. Shaz recently picked up a couple of books of country walks close to London and we are hoping to do a few while the good weather lasts.

Last Sunday it was the 15km walk from Gomshall to Guildford. Just an hour on train from London, we arrived in Gomshall full of energy and ready for a good day in the english countryside. With the sun on the backs, we rambled our way through gently sloping farmland and the quite impressive Blackheath Forest (being pine and fern, it was very reminiscent of NZ).

Of course, not country walk should be short of a couple of country pubs. First stop was about 4km in at the William IV, where I was able to have a couple of very good half pints from the Surrey Hills brewery, which was just down the road. Refreshed farm our liquid stop, we carried on to The Villages, on the far edge of the Forest, for a good little lunch out in the garden bar. Fuelled up, we headed out for the last half of the walk to Guildford. Arriving at Guildford close to 6pm, we were a bunch of very tired, but very happy ramblers. I'm looking forward to the next outing.

Fulhimbledon 2006



It is the one title Martina Navratilova hasn't won and the trophy Roger Federer covets the most - it is the annual Fulhimbledon mixed doubles tournament. Played on the same day as the final of another lesser known tournament (Wimbledon I think it is called), the weather was excellent and we all turned up in our best whites. With such famous past winners as Brad & Shaz and Mike & Iris, the 12 finely-tuned pairings tuned up ready to show their best tennis and take the title....

OK, OK, maybe most of us hadn't lifted the racket since the previous year and there were more Pims and beers being served than aces. But as always, it is damn good fun and superbly organised by The Tournament Master himself, Mr Thomas Flinn. The tennis was in fact all very sociable and many laughs were had. Special thanks goes out to my partner, Ms Anna, who played superbly and held up Team Posso throughout the competition.

Best dressed as always went Mr Simon Quirke, sporting a very english pink polo and a pink and navy vest that must have left him cooking. Here's a couple of picks of the crew as well.










At the end of the day everyone was very happy (which might have had more to do with the drinks than the tennis) and the coveted trophy was passed on to a new holder for another year. The big question is where will the tournament be held next year - Taupolimbledon maybe....

Canada's Most Wanted

This individual is consider unarmed and not very dangerous. He is known to have recently fled the city of London (UK), where he has been known to commit a series of transgressions, including the pilfering of matches, beer coasters, and pint glasses, not to mention late night ramblings around London and skulking in far off train stations. He is believed to be traveling across Canada in a van of a (as current) unknown description and is most likely to be seen in the vicinity of a KFC restaurant. Known alias: "Criggles".

If you have any information concerning this person, please feel free to add comments to this post.

Thank you for reading this public service announcement.