“I feel like I’m finally over the Carnival Bug this morning,” I declared cheerily to Karen over breakfast.
“I’ve got it now,” came the muffled reply from across the table. It is official: the Carnival Bug is an infectious, lingering reality.
For the past few days, I had been battling a dull headache, persistent fatigue, and a general sense of feeling utterly drained—the exact symptoms reported across the village. Thankfully, I was feeling back up to speed today, which was fortunate given the packed schedule ahead.
It all kicked off at 7:30 AM with Graham pulling onto the drive. In classic Graham style, he politely declined a cup of coffee and got straight down to business: measuring up the garage to discuss converting it into a dedicated, purpose-built table tennis room. It felt like ages since we’d last seen him, so we caught up on life while he surveyed the space and took structural notes.
Shortly after, Karen emerged, dressed and grimly determined to face the day despite feeling far from 100%. “I’ll feel fine after a couple of coffees,” she proclaimed. She is undeniably made of tougher stuff than I am.
By afternoon, I took the dogs out for a walk, though our usual route was abruptly cut short by the arrival of a herd of cows in Jones’s Meadow. It is a stunning area gifted to Wiltshire Wildlife by a local farmer—a paradise for wildlife and dog-walkers alike, right up until the cattle move in. Not wanting to get tangled up in any bovine confrontations, I executed a swift detour and still made it home in time for a run to the recycling centre before the gates shut.
As I approached the tip, I found myself slowing to a crawl, scanning the tarmac like a mine-sweeper looking for nails, screws, or stray bolts. I was desperately keen to avoid a sequel to Puncture-Gate.
As I unloaded the last of the packaging, I checked with one of the operatives on where a piece of broken garden furniture should go. I half-jokingly asked if they issued loyalty cards yet, given that I am there almost every week and know most of the staff by name. They were not in the mood for banter. It was Friday afternoon; they just wanted to lock the gates and go home.
After double-checking my tyres for stray metal, I headed towards Marlborough for a 5:30 PM 1-2-1 coaching session, followed by the weekly session of the table tennis Development League to support the Pewsey Pings—the school team I coach.
With no time to drive home in between, I ducked into my current favourite Marlborough hideout, The Parade Cinema, for a coffee and a bite to eat.
“Hi! Back again?” welcomed the barista. “The usual?”
I nodded and requested a bagel instead of cake – I was in need of protein.
“Seeing as you’re officially a regular, would you like a loyalty card?” she asked. I decided that holding a loyalty card for a boutique cinema was vastly more prestigious than holding one for the local dump, so I gladly accepted the stamped card and took a seat at my favourite table.
I spent a peaceful forty minutes people-watching under the guise of working on my laptop. A film premiere was taking place, and the lounge quickly filled with smartly dressed guests enjoying glasses of wine and tray-passed canapés. After a manic day, it was wonderfully relaxing to sit back and watch the evening unwind.
It was, however, merely the calm before the storm.
An hour later, I stepped out of the sophisticated cinema atmosphere and straight into the roaring bedlam of the Marlborough Leisure Centre. Over forty players—mostly hyperactive children—were warming up for this evening’s league games. Seeing the Pewsey Pings dive straight into the action made the frantic day entirely worth it, even if my peaceful cinema coffee felt like a distant memory.
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