Back to the dusty road

To celebrate my birthday it was back to the bush once more to say goodbye for the final time. We (or more accurately ‘I’ ) drunk lots of beer and played the played ‘Spa’ the card game of choice until late into the night. One plays Spa with a little more gusto than any other card games I have encountered with extra kudos gained from the force with which the cards are propelled onto the table

Even on my special day I was shown no mercy and came a spectacular last. There’s something quite fantastic about being thrashed at cards by a nine year old in the middle of the jungle on your 29^th birthday. Even if they are taunting you with the title of ‘Mr Two (points)’ as they career to twenty. I won’t plumb the subterranean depth of my frustration at this performance, suffice to say, somehow the more I understand of the rules the worse I do. A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing I suppose. In my darker moments I have considered trawling the internet in a vain hope to find an insider’s guide. But until now I have stopped short due to the thought of the psychological ramifications of then still losing by a country mile.