I did not know before 7.50pm this evening that field hockey was popular in India. A man sprinting along beside me informed me of this curiousity. Field hockey brings back muddy memories of getting the ankles hacked off me in the pissing rain. It wasn’t an experience that inspired nor is treasured. The trick I learned was to stay at the other end of the field where-ever the ball was not and have a chat and believe me I was a keen athlete at the time but that’s how much I loathed the sport. The fella, late 50’s +, explained he’d competed here and that his father too had played the sport. Then he told me a story about competing at 6am and drinking martinis til 4am and we both agreed that tea after 10pm was unlikely in these days of our respective lives.

Such as it is.

Hack, hack, hack.