Heartbroken man 😪

I'm sad to report that hot on the heels of my best day of the holiday I've now suffered my worst. It feels almost too painful to talk about but in an effort to dust myself down and move on I'm hoping that writing about it may prove cathartic.

I've allowed myself in recent time to become besotted by something to the point that nothing else has mattered in my life. My every waking moment, and my dreams too, were devoted in this direction and I never wanted it to end, but end it has and I feel utterly heartbroken. Better to have loved and lost so the saying goes but I'm here to tell you that's a load of bo**cks, it hurts like hell. For yesterday, at around about 7pm British time or 2pm here in Florida, Justin Speith rolled in the putt that signalled the end of the 2017 British Open and with it my relationship with the one true companion I've had since arriving in Florida; the telly. I was welcomed in by a few days Wimbledon coverage and moved seemlessly on to the golf but now, it's Monday morning and I'm totally bereft, just me and Charlie (Chris's pesky black Labrador) for company. I fly home Thursday evening so have four days to kill without television unless I'm prepared to suffer Erik's Disney films or Coralea's Hey Jessie or whatever it's called. Some might consider me shallow for spending a fortnight in America doing nothing but punctuating marathon TV sessions with dips in the swimming pool but I call that relaxation and time very well spent thank you very much so up yours.

Tell you what I'll do. I'll put together the finishing touches to the book I've finished writing since being out here and lay plans for my radio show return on Friday night. I have a guest between 8-9pm,  I hope listeners understand if my snoring is broadcasted because I'll be jet lagged big time. I've been given permission to start a blog for Mearns FM too so I'm gonna plan that today. Perhaps now would be a good time to inform any fellow presenters that keep leaving complaints about my kitchen hygiene in the log book to wind their necks in or retribution will be sought vis a vis my blog so think on 😬.

Over and out from an overcast Boca Raton but not so overcast that I can't do a Peter Kay style bomb into this pool in front of me. That's if there's any water left, Charlie keeps drinking from it the filthy animal.