A BEATER’S BAPTISM

I was nothing if not blunt in criticising my lackluster performance as we reached the halfway point of the drive: ‘What were you thinking?’ I shouted in my own private echo chamber, my hands on my knees. ‘This was a bad idea, one of your worst. You have never been in this much pain and discomfort, have you? Why is that elderly beater 100… no 200yds ahead of you? I know your ankles feel like concrete, your quads are about to spasm and your stomach is tight, but at this rate you’ll be dead last. This won’t reflect well on the magazine, you know. They’ll all be waiting for you in the beaters’ wagon tutting and whispering. Look! They’re off again. Pick yourself up, there’s a good lad. And don’t forget your flag either.’