This week's Mum's Bet is brought to you by Tuesday afternoon skiving
It's Irish Open time and I've got a couple of charming options
Unless you’re a student, beer taster or stripper who makes most of your dollar shaking your money-maker at the weekend, going on the piss of a Tuesday night is never a good idea. In fact in respect of those of us that agreed to do this working lark, all premises serving alcohol in any form should close – just for Tuesday night because Wednesday morning is light years away from Friday at 5pm (4.15pm if no one is looking; 2pm if I make up a fictional kids dental appointment … must dash, poor munchkin, awful pain … blah, blah, blah).
Yes the Irish economy would collapse, but I would feel a whole lot better today and inspiration for Mums Bet would be flowing, somewhat like the Hendricks gin was yesterday. I was never going to turn down a free lunch in a Michelin star restaurant so can your variations of the ‘it was self-inflicted’ self-righteous judgment. Bloody right is was self-inflicted and in order not to appear a complete lush I ordered my Sancerre by the glass which also meant I probably drank more than a full bottle. *Taps head knowingly* God it was velvet going down, the oaky tones dancing on my tongue, the warming sensation … I regret nothing!
Funnily enough the taste was far more acidic this morning. Less velvet, more Primark polyester with a faint whiff of sweat shop.
I did try to be somewhat productive during my grown-up mitching. I attempted to discuss golf with my luncheon partner. He doesn’t golf. Oh great. Show me more pictures of your new cat for the next 45 minutes please. So, fuelled by wine and a noticeable sugar rush, we committed the ultimate social media faux pas, especially not in a fancy restaurant – we took photos of our food. Worse again having devoured half the breadbasket I simply brushed the crumbs off the table just as our grumpy French waiter had whipped out his posh little brush and pan. He simply said ‘oh madam you took my crumbs’ – I promised I’d make more.
That’s a roundabout way of telling you I didn’t do my legendary study of the form book ahead of this week’s gold. But I’m all over Shane Lowry for the Irish Open. Am I being patriotic not really? I’m being Lowryotic. I like Shane, met him at a sports awards ceremony last December and he was lovely. The kind of man you’d genuinely want to talk to in a bar and not just because he’s willing to pay for a few drinks to hide his crippling loneliness. I actually had a selfie with him and I’m not normally a selfier – or a posting-photos-of-food-to-Instagram-er. Padraig Harrington, AP McCoy, and Charlie Swan were all there too.
I owe an apology to Mrs. Swan– it’s not that she didn’t take a good photo, it just wasn’t the best photo so I asked her to take it again. And again. And again. And again. And … oh FFS – thumb away from the lens little Miss Swanny! If it’s going to sit on the wall in my living room with the other sporting greats then (i) I need to look awesome (ii) the less of your thumb, the better. Anyway, at this point feel I’m talking through the Hendricks and Sancerre … just licked my arm … tasty.
Back to the golf, why Shane and not Rory? Yes, Rory has worked really hard to get a stellar field to the event, but given his odds are skinnier than Lee Westwood on a crash diet, his workload as nominal host is distracting and his propensity to get spectacularly not arsed mid-tournament, I’m backing lovely, charming Shane.
As for the waiter at the swanky restaurant, anytime you want me back I promise not to ‘check in’ on Facebook or photograph your food and I vow most sincerely to leave the crumbs untouched.
Mum’s Bets this week:
- Shane Lowry to win the Irish Open –
- Padraig Harrington to finish in the Top 10 –
- Martin Flores to win the Byron Nelson –