75% of the long grass by the gable end has been cut down by the roads department's Spring verge tidying up so that's another reduction in my work load.

The grass-cutters came yesterday and shaved the grass in what I fear must be the final one of the cuts that we contracted for at the end of last summer. From now on it's down to me. What a shame, the professional cut is so much smarter.

Claire visited for a few days this week en route home from a wedding in Figeac. Relaxation was her priority so we vegged out instead of doing the sights. After seeing her off at the station yesterday I went to the Dryades for my first full round. I whacked a couple of balls into the middle of nowhere and messed up big time on a couple of holes but on the whole it didn't go too badly. We'll see how this weekend's two competitions pan out. Will I recapture the Champion of Indre (Men - third series) title that I fluked a few years ago?

Anyway I am fully prepared, having obtained this morning from a local doctor the silly Certificate of Non Counter Indication to the Playing of Golf that the French public health system insists that one has before one can take part in a competition. He obviously thought it was pretty silly too since he didn't bother with any sort of examination but took my word for it that I was in good enough nick. He didn't even charge me for stamping the bit of paper which I thought was pretty decent of him.

I wasn't charged last night either thank God when I blew into a bag for the Gendarmerie. That's the first time in my life that I've been breathalysed but now I know that one 25cc lager shandy is a safe measure. I'm glad it wasn't the previous night when 25cc or more of white wine went down my throat at John's barbecue.