There's No Place Like Home

Having spent an enjoyable twelve days in Ireland, where I had drunk myself silly on too many occasions, I returned to Gatwick and headed for Luton intent on proper preparation. Now heading there straight from Gatwick via South London probably wasn't a great start, but I felt fresh and traffic conditions dictated.

I have played three tournaments at Luton this week and have managed to play them all badly. Whilst I was dissapointed with my performance in the first two, I was extremely angry with myself after the main event, but not merely for playing as pitifully as it is possible to play. I try not to live or play by too many rules, but I broke one of my commandments turning up and entering the event in the first place. Generally if I am tired on unwell I prefer not to enter a tournament. It just makes no sense at all to play when you do not feel sharp enough, especially when there are tournaments almost every day that you could play instead. Nevertheless after playing through the night on friday and through saturday afternoon I decided that sleeping could wait until later. I circumnavigated the M25 and entered the tournament, but by the first break I could hardly see the cards. To be honest I would have been better off setting fire to the £800 and getting a few hours sleep.

I have since slept and put in a long session on the net, which is where I feel most comfortable and play more consistently. There is just something about playing at home in comfortable, familiar and relaxing surroundings that makes me wonder why I bother venturing any further afield on anything other than a strictly occasional basis. Whilst Ireland was a welcome break away, Luton was an unnecessary extension of the excursion away from my regular comforts. Dorothy Gale may have been unwell and somewhat delusional but she had it right when she said "there's no place like home."