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lawn bowling
--Susan; Mar 4, 2005
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Susan bowling
while Sylvia & Alan look on |
I step up for my second attempt and take a
few practice swings. The ball pulls on my shoulder like a screaming
2-year old. I feel ready... I release... DAMNIT! As soon as the
ball leaves my hand I know I've overshot. Dejected, I step to
the side. Sylvia (Grace's mom) steps up to the mat. She's coming
off a psychological bogey after her last shot curved into the
wall instead of towards the target (she was holding the ball backwards,
so it curved the wrong way – a rookie mistake that's haunted
her for a good 3 minutes - might as well be a lifetime). This
time she lets go… and it's a good one! It makes a slow,
lumbering curve towards the jack and lays to rest. (The jack is
a smaller white ball that is thrown first and functions as a target
for the larger black balls, called bowls).
Now Grace. With all the seriousness of a brain
surgeon performing on Einstien, he steps up to the mat and freezes
like a statue. I can only imagine the precise visualization exercises
he's performing now (he does this with regular ten-pin bowling,
too). He pulls back his arm and lets go. It's a beauty. The bowl
leaves his hand with a slight right trajectory, then banks hard
to the left and slams into the jack! Cheers and high-fives erupt
in the crowd (ok, just the three of us) until we're informed by
Alan, our Lawn Bowling mentor, that actually it’s not a
very good shot (Grace has knocked the jack too far away from his
bowl). Oh well.
We're at Te Rangi (Lawn) Bowling Club in Invercargill.
We're here because we saw some people bowling when we were driving
around the other day and thought it would be fun. We mentioned
it to our Aunt Fran (we're staying with Grace's aunt and uncle
in Invercargill) and she called up the club. After she got off
the phone she told us we had an “appointment.” Grace,
Sylvia and I showed up at the designated time and were greeted
by Alan, a spunky, snow-capped, smiley-eyed man with the gigantic
calves of a serious bowler. Even though the club was closed, Alan
opened it up and gave us a lesson. He was ever-patient, chasing
our errant balls, teaching us the rules and giving us pointers
with every shot. After he felt we were sufficiently ready he let
us play on the "official" lawn outside.
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Alan, our mentor,
looks down upon his domain |
We were so appreciative, and he wouldn't even
let us pay for the club time. We had a lot of fun and would love
to play again. We returned that afternoon to watch the club's
tournament (Alan did very well) and they invited us to stay for
afternoon tea. Everyone’s friendliness and generosity was
overwhelming and we'll always remember the whole experience fondly
(it was just a prelude of things to come in NZ).
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