A group of upwards of a dozen of us went to play yesterday at St. Agathe, a course near Montluçon, where Freya had negotiated an advantageous lunch and green fee deal.

Although the lunch was excellent one minor constituent of the starter was a piece of andouillete. That's a sausage made from the bits of the beast that only became palatable to the Russians towards the end of the siege of Leningrad but which the French adore. I managed half of it but stopped for fear of throwing up, to the astonishment and ultimate delight of one of my neighbours who finished it off with gusto.

I'd have been glad to return the favour when it came to the Rum Baba but sadly the opportunity did not present itself.

St. Agathe is a very hilly course with a nice variety of challenges, most of which I failed to meet but it was a good day.

When I got back I managed to put in a short session with the lawnmower before sitting down to the nourishing salad that is a key element of my return to slimness campaign.