My Wednesday morning “marital advice” sessions have picked up speed, or as my grandsons might say, “gone viral, dude.” All of that is merely to say they are well attended. In fact there are usually three or four mems sitting near my wingback chair, waiting for me to slither in, with several others eyeing the whole thing with interest. They appear to be a hit.
However that success means I can never roll over and go back to sleep on Wednesdays like most retirees, awaiting my second cup of morning tea. No more wandering around the house, idly kicking a cat while considering the far-off lunch at the home of homes.

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This past summer my wife and I did something we have never attempted before. Not that, you filthy grandchildren. We drove to Calgary to see my brother, Richard. In doing so we were lucky enough to worship the magnificent Rockies in all their glory. 
Normally these splendid peaks are just something that one glances at from an airplane if the weather permits, but to gaze at them from ground level is to play about with the grey matter in a good way.

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CAN THE CLUB COPE WITH DAS KAPITAL AND CHAMPAGNE?

I think it was Metternich, the great German diplomat, who remarked offhandedly that Italy was no more than a “geographical expression.” It was a bit rough on poor old Italy as the statement drips with disdain, but I suppose the club too could fall into that category, although some would say we were more of a state of mind. We are a mere expression of where we live in dear old Victoria, but we could be anywhere and sometimes I think we are.

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The club was abuzz the other day about the number of family outrages players in the NFL have committed or have been accused of committing. The one that most interested us because of its ambiguity was the case of a star birching his son with a switch as a form of discipline. He has been charged with assault.

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