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  I won’t miss
the summer
Sad as I am to see summer drawing to a close, I will not miss the voracious appetite of its Mosquito Militia. This
year, despite Eau de Jungle
Formula being our staple scent, headquarter’s bite count was
astronomic. Apparently, amidst our 30 types of native bloodsuckers, now lurks the Asian Tiger variety.
So named for its distinctive white striped body and legs, it has hitchhiked our way from tropical climes, courtesy of international goods transportation. Clearly no travel restrictions for these frequent flyers.
A true ninja in the already crowded insect air, its appetite is so formidable, it even lacks the decency to reserve its feasting until twilight hours. Rumour has it that locking us all indoors at the start of the April-September ‘mozzie’ season only served to
increase their
resolve. Makes
sense. That
eventual all
clear to push
our bubble
boundaries and
pale limbs into
the confines of gardens and pub patios must have presented one juicy jackpot. Mission accomplished for sucking the fun out of our summer quicker than we could suck those Quarantinis through our straws.
In an effort to future proof for next year’s inevitable winged onslaught, I have already stockpiled DEET and citronella candles.
Reconciled as I am to making the most of homegrown holidays, I am determined not to get quite so bitten by the latest staycation bug.
Testing, testing . . .
Having swapped the tumbleweed in our social diaries for dinner invites, thoughts return to the optimum ‘hostess gift’. Fragrant candles, artisan gin and handmade fudge are so 2019. Bang on trend and guaranteed to delight in 2021? Rock up with a negative Lateral Flow Test. Following months of discussing little else, hopefully this will encourage the odd eve of Covid-free chatter - on all fronts.
a dull moment
The joys, trials and bemusing encounters of busy mum Georgina Jones
Fore! We’ve found a fair way to occupy our teenage son
 “Golf Widow”. It’s the term for
someone tethered to a man obsessed
with golf. Thus far, this label has eluded me. Yes, Best Beloved loves the game. But thankfully, he is traditionally content to admire its manicured greens and critique the swings of honed professionals, via an annual late night binge of the U.S Masters - from the dressing gowned comfort of his sofa.
Life, however, has a way of chipping us the occasional curved ball. Our 14 year old has recently been lured by the verdant appeal of our local course. When it comes to distracting a teenager for hours at a time, an 18 hole challenge is clearly the new TIKTOK.
These basic local clubs are no match for St. Andrews. But on that front, neither do they discourage the youths who rock up with nothing more than their father’s ‘vintage’ clubs and an eagerness to learn. In possession of a junior membership, he and his merry band of similarly aspirational Tigers
have happily severed the umbilical cord to their Xboxes and reassigned their competitive spirits to attaining the lowest par. All for less than the cost of an online gaming subscription.
As parents, we are overly eager to encourage this latest tech-free outdoor pursuit. BB has jumped at the ‘guest pass’ invites and - thanks to that Sky Sports subscription - taken to educating the prodigal in the ways of club grips and bunker etiquette. Refreshments at the 19th hole have become a staple addition to proceedings. Officially a debrief session, I sense it also helps drown his sorrows over the sizeable number of balls lost per round.
The most revelatory aspect of this latest teen passion? His newly favoured attire. Goodbye drab, oversized and Frostie-sprinkled hoodies. Hello ‘Dad chinos’ and brightly hued polo shirts. (Finally, a use for that mothballed section of his wardrobe reserved for Christmas Day with granny).
Box ticking of fresh air and affordable green fees aside, this, to me, is the ultimate hole in one!

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