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Low-lying roads
Jul. 3rd, 2007 11:21 amSo I drove down to the Selsdon Park Hotel for dinner. Even I was sufficiently embarrassed by the filthy state of the car, so I took it into the Ukrainian wash-fest just around the corner. They looked at it with dismay as I said "yes, I know it's filthy. That's what happens when you park a car under the trees on Lewisham Hill".
I'd diligently memorised the directions and the map, but still managed to take two wrong turns (interestingly, on the part of the route that I thought I knew). But, not being John Harrington, I still arrived on time. Indeed, Mr Dodds, now at the Department of Business and Enterprise, was leaving his car just as I parked. I mentioned my navigation fun, and he informed me of the wonders of satnav. I always assumed that you had to pay a monthly subscription for these things, but apparently not. And the prices have come down dramatically. If only I drove more, and if only I didn't think it would be stolen within 10 minutes of me leaving it in the car after parking it in Lewisham, I might be tempted.
Then again, I saw a relatively new Boxster parked on the Hill last night. The area must be moving up, if people are willing to park soft-tops here.
The meal was with Chris Tringham, wife Ada and eight-year-old son John, who were over from Hong Kong for a week. As I said, my diligent preparation ensured my timely arrival. Harrington and Creese, of course, were late, having made the bad decision to travel by train to East Croydon from London Bridge. One day, one day, Johnny H will not be late for something I am attending. It hasn't happened yet, but one day, it will.
The meal was pleasant enough, with the staff being the standard hotel level of pleasant but gloriously incompetent. They forgot one of the starters, then a chocolated fondant arrived just as we finished our starters (Ada and John ate before us, so were a couple of courses "ahead"). This looked very nice, but no-one had ordered it. So the waiter placed it in front of young John. Then he realized that perhaps he was at the wrong table, and whipped it away again. A divine form of torture for a young kid. Give him a plateful of chocolate dessert, and then steal it away again almost immediately. Finally, the waitress managed to drop a couple of the (fortunately empty) coffee cups. This led to a good thirty seconds of picking up, dropping something else, and so on. A bit like when you are taking dirty washing to the washing machine (linen basket? What's that?) and you drop a sock. If you bend down to pick up that sock, it's guaranteed that another sock or similar will fall. Yes, it was like that, except with cutlery.
During the meal it absolutely bucketed down outside. This had an interesting ramnification on my return, when I gave a lift to Johnny H. The country roads I had negotiated with little problem on the way down were less simple on the way back in the dark, not least because bits of them were under six inches or more of water. Never in my life have I seen the merits of owning an SUV, but as I tentatively ploughed through these mini-lakes, praying that the car would not conk out, I could see one this time.
Oh, and when it came to ordering desserts, we were told that the chocolate fondant was off. The bastards!
A couple of sticky hands last night ensured my first loss of any size for a couple of weeks. Heads up in the big blind against small blind, I raised SB's limp when I found A9o. He called the raise and the flop came A93 rainbow.
Bet from him, raise from me, three-bet from opponent, pressure-point bet from me (leaving him about $5 behind if he called). All-in from him, call from me, and we get the inevitable 33 from him. Incredibly, I failed to hit an Ace or nine on the turn or river. Rigged, I tell you.
I then threw in a raise in MP2 or 3 with a pair of sixes, to be flat-called on the button. Board came J73 two clubs or some such crap. I bet and he calls. Turn brought a queen and I thought about giving up. Instead I decided to try a similar bet (slightly larger) on the grounds that this might force a fold from 88, 99, TT or JK, JA (or two overcards, or a flush draw). He flat-called again. River brought me a third six and I put him all-in for his last $20. It didn't take him long to call with his QQ, making a set of queens. Whoops.
The eventual damage wasn't that bad ($70 or thereabouts), and I came away from the session feeling good about my game. Those stack-offs will happen every so often, and they tend to come in bunches. But if your overall session apart from the stack-offs is net positive, and if you don't tilt, and if you can't see how you could have avoided the stack-off, then things are good. The only doubt was on the 66 hand, but I make so much from betting these hands on the flop, the main argument is whether I should bet the turn. If I check the turn and opponent checks behind, I'm saving nothing and I'm possibly giving opponent a free card.
But Full Tilt seems tougher than iPoker (even though my numbers at the moment are similar at both). Opponents are less passive and apparently more aware. Also there tend to be more full-stacked players, which tends to correlate with opponents who have a better idea of what they are doing.
I'd diligently memorised the directions and the map, but still managed to take two wrong turns (interestingly, on the part of the route that I thought I knew). But, not being John Harrington, I still arrived on time. Indeed, Mr Dodds, now at the Department of Business and Enterprise, was leaving his car just as I parked. I mentioned my navigation fun, and he informed me of the wonders of satnav. I always assumed that you had to pay a monthly subscription for these things, but apparently not. And the prices have come down dramatically. If only I drove more, and if only I didn't think it would be stolen within 10 minutes of me leaving it in the car after parking it in Lewisham, I might be tempted.
Then again, I saw a relatively new Boxster parked on the Hill last night. The area must be moving up, if people are willing to park soft-tops here.
The meal was with Chris Tringham, wife Ada and eight-year-old son John, who were over from Hong Kong for a week. As I said, my diligent preparation ensured my timely arrival. Harrington and Creese, of course, were late, having made the bad decision to travel by train to East Croydon from London Bridge. One day, one day, Johnny H will not be late for something I am attending. It hasn't happened yet, but one day, it will.
The meal was pleasant enough, with the staff being the standard hotel level of pleasant but gloriously incompetent. They forgot one of the starters, then a chocolated fondant arrived just as we finished our starters (Ada and John ate before us, so were a couple of courses "ahead"). This looked very nice, but no-one had ordered it. So the waiter placed it in front of young John. Then he realized that perhaps he was at the wrong table, and whipped it away again. A divine form of torture for a young kid. Give him a plateful of chocolate dessert, and then steal it away again almost immediately. Finally, the waitress managed to drop a couple of the (fortunately empty) coffee cups. This led to a good thirty seconds of picking up, dropping something else, and so on. A bit like when you are taking dirty washing to the washing machine (linen basket? What's that?) and you drop a sock. If you bend down to pick up that sock, it's guaranteed that another sock or similar will fall. Yes, it was like that, except with cutlery.
During the meal it absolutely bucketed down outside. This had an interesting ramnification on my return, when I gave a lift to Johnny H. The country roads I had negotiated with little problem on the way down were less simple on the way back in the dark, not least because bits of them were under six inches or more of water. Never in my life have I seen the merits of owning an SUV, but as I tentatively ploughed through these mini-lakes, praying that the car would not conk out, I could see one this time.
Oh, and when it came to ordering desserts, we were told that the chocolate fondant was off. The bastards!
A couple of sticky hands last night ensured my first loss of any size for a couple of weeks. Heads up in the big blind against small blind, I raised SB's limp when I found A9o. He called the raise and the flop came A93 rainbow.
Bet from him, raise from me, three-bet from opponent, pressure-point bet from me (leaving him about $5 behind if he called). All-in from him, call from me, and we get the inevitable 33 from him. Incredibly, I failed to hit an Ace or nine on the turn or river. Rigged, I tell you.
I then threw in a raise in MP2 or 3 with a pair of sixes, to be flat-called on the button. Board came J73 two clubs or some such crap. I bet and he calls. Turn brought a queen and I thought about giving up. Instead I decided to try a similar bet (slightly larger) on the grounds that this might force a fold from 88, 99, TT or JK, JA (or two overcards, or a flush draw). He flat-called again. River brought me a third six and I put him all-in for his last $20. It didn't take him long to call with his QQ, making a set of queens. Whoops.
The eventual damage wasn't that bad ($70 or thereabouts), and I came away from the session feeling good about my game. Those stack-offs will happen every so often, and they tend to come in bunches. But if your overall session apart from the stack-offs is net positive, and if you don't tilt, and if you can't see how you could have avoided the stack-off, then things are good. The only doubt was on the 66 hand, but I make so much from betting these hands on the flop, the main argument is whether I should bet the turn. If I check the turn and opponent checks behind, I'm saving nothing and I'm possibly giving opponent a free card.
But Full Tilt seems tougher than iPoker (even though my numbers at the moment are similar at both). Opponents are less passive and apparently more aware. Also there tend to be more full-stacked players, which tends to correlate with opponents who have a better idea of what they are doing.
