We rocked up at the Table of Dreams, only to find a father sitting on it, and his son stomping around on the table and metallic net. wtf.
The little shit was taking great delight in jumping up and down. He wasn’t challenged over his behaviour. The entitled, middle-class tosser.
I strode up, expecting a confrontation. Instead they both disappeared. SEE YA. Don’t come back, etc. Some people.
This messed with my mind. As did the wind. I tried to play a power game. This was not an afternoon for spin. I succeeded, to an extent. A 5-1 defeat is not as deflating at it might sound. I did push her all the way. Yep.
