Having spent most of my adult life in North America, returning to England to live was, well, quite a shock. I hadn't intended to come back. However, as the saying goes, life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. And so twelve years ago, I found myself, pouting somewhat, back in the UK.
But you know, there are compensations to being here. Spending a couple of hours sitting in the sun watching a game of bowls is a fine example; and that's what I and two friends, Catherine and Andrea, did yesterday afternoon.
Bowls are a gentle sport mostly beloved by, shall we say, the golden generation. It's played in teams, on grass that looks like velvet. Everyone wears white. The game begins with a golf ball being rolled across the pitch and then each player tries to hit it with their bowls. Strategies are employed to block the opposing team; real success is to knock away an opposing bowl. The teams compete but there's lots of laughter. And tea. It's all very civilised.
We sat outside the pavilion tea room and enjoyed the sunshine, the smell of the newly mown grass and the gentle breeze. We sipped tea and chatted. You can do that while you're watching bowls because the pace is slow and soothing. Catherine demolished a slice of delicious home made cake, made by one of the ladies from the club.
The teams played on. The only noise was the gentle hum of conversation, the muffled click of the bowls and the occasional genteel exclamation of "Oh, sorry!", made when someone had played a good shot. England is the only place I know where apologies are made for success.
It's all quite soporific. On the bench next to ours, a man dozed. As Andrea said: "When you watch bowls, you forget what's wrong in your life, you just relax and enjoy the day." So, there you have it: Bowls. A good reason to live in England!
