Still lost the leg, mind.

 

32/50

Checking in and then checking out of the Madhouse

Playing — and losing — to Level 8 on the Russell Bray Darts App and I hit this 180 whilst I'm on 182. I had to go for it despite the fact it would leave me in (on?) the Madhouse.

. . . fortunately, I eventually got the D1. Not on the first go, though.

31/50

Monday tomorrow . . . this won't happen tomorrow

Still playing shit. Still dogged with the dartitis. Still whining. Still whining despite occasionally hitting a 180.

30/50

'Where the fuck were you last Monday?'

 Three weeks to the day. Not good . . . not bad either, I guess.

29/50

Muscle memory . . .

 Not showboating. There's a lot to be said for just falling back on muscle memory when going for double doubles. When it works, it's wonderful.

Friday Night, Saturday Morning

 Late night darts sometimes brings its rewards.

28/50

Thursday Mild

You find a song with Thursday in the title. It's harder than you think . . . 

 

27/50

Back on the Dark Thunders . . .

. . . which would be a great name for a cheap cider sold in two litre bottles.

26/50

Farewell Loxley Robins 2 21g . . .

 . . .  we will undoubtedly meet again.

They are too classy looking to lock away in a dusty, overcrowded drawer in amongst a few hundred 2B pencils and unpaid bills.

25/50

It's natural . . . erm . . . naturally . . .

 . . . to think that these might be the anointed *forever darts* after hitting 2 180s in one day. When has that happened in recent months and years? 

24/50

Another false start . . . .

For a brief moment in a balmy New York summer, I thought these would be my forever darts . . .

. . . I was a fool.

23/50

'Get behind me, Sid Waddell !'

Never done that before.

I hate it when you pick up different darts and they immediately seem to ‘work’.

. . . ‘cos everyone who plays darts knows that the darting gods are just fucking with you. 

June bloom

 Too tired to conjure up a pithless one liner.

22/50

"Tell me the worst, Doctor, can they be saved?"

 Shit, I was hoping to get another 10 days out of those flights. 

It's annoying 'cos those particular flights are my flights of choice as well, and I'm all out of them. I like the colour scheme. It reveals my inexplicable soft spot for the Uruguayan football team, Penarol. Why Penarol? I don't have a scooby. If pushed on the matter, I'll claim it's 'cos they were Eduardo Galeano's football team. (I have no idea. I'm bluffing.)

As I've been known to associate with people who aren't up to speed with their knowledge of South American football, they've mistaken my penchant for the flights for a secret crush on Randite Libertarian politics. Apparently those are the colours of the right-wing fucknuts otherwise known as the Libertarian Party in the US of A. I can't win . . . which ties in with my inability to win at darts against the Level 9 Russ Bray app. It's all connected people, all part of the same golden thread . . . okay, I think I have to lie down now.

***Update***

It turns out that if you change your flights it helps with your aim. Who knew? 

First three darts after replacing my flights.

Teenagers . . . the Gobshite Years

A shitty morning looks a wee bit brighter after hitting a 180 before taking the wee yin to school.

17/50

If you're waiting for a deluge . . .

 . . .  it's not happening.

16/50

Only 10 in May (so far)?

 . . . That's not good, is it?

Update (08.25.2024): Turns out I miscounted. Still crap, but not as crap.

15/50

Dedicated to my Dad . . .

. . . who inspired in me a love for darts all those years ago.

13/50

Eyes are drooping . . .

8/50

League game that night . . .

  . . . I think.

I didn't the replicate the practice form on the game night itself . . . but you knew that already.

7/50