Well, Saturday night saw the long-awaited bowling tournament finally take place. Trouble is, Big C went and ruined all the teams by being called back into work for a crisis (boo!), so we ended up splitting ourselves up (probably very unfairly) into a big ‘Anglish’ mixture of adults v children. As we had the aforementioned children present and absolutely not because we are pathetically bad at bowling, we asked for the little rails to be put up at the side. J’s got the exact scores, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Team Big’ whipped ‘Team Small’ big style. In the second game, we did a child swap, so it was Hubby and I with Little C, and J with #1 and #2. I can’t remember who won that one, but it was probably us because of Hubby.

Lots of fun was had critiquing the different styles of bowling: J went for the delicate, fairy-steps approach before gently gliding the ball down the lane in a kind of ‘less is more’ thing which was quite successful. Hubby, a man obsessed with technique, hurled the bloody thing like his life depended on it, and at one stage had something ridiculous like four strikes in a row (a ‘Turkey’??). Little C went for the opposite of his mother and practically threw the ball down like it had done him some terrible injustice - again quite successfully, and #1 was very professional, holding his bowling stance (with right leg flicked behind left knee and arm pointed meaningfully down the lane like an odd yoga pose) right until the ball hit the pins - less successfully, I have to add (sorry son). #2 just chucked it with absolutely no finesse, but seemed to do pretty well. Oh, and I was, as usual, completely random and schizophrenic and either got a strike or missed completely. Story of my life, really.

Anyhoo, bowling over, we went and had adult time in the bar, and they ran riot in the children’s play area, spending vast amounts of money in those games where you pay 2 euro for five seconds on a pretend motorbike and other such things. Lovely. After this, it was back home for Hubby and I and off to J’s for a night of DVDs, pizza, fizzy pop and e-numbers (3 packs of M&Ms) for the smalls. When we picked them up on Sunday, #2 proudly announced that he and Little C had played ‘Tony Hawk’ on the PlayStation until 3am (#1 fell asleep) and J was still looking astoundingly perky (she probably collapsed with a large alcoholic one after we left - 24 hours with #2 being akin to ten rounds with Mike Tyson). They fell straight to sleep in the car on the way home, and were in bed and out cold by 8pm last night too.

So, in summary: Ireland and England were equally crap at bowling, but equally incredibly good at socialising and eating M&Ms. Gripping stuff.

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