Life is a game of darts...

See it all started with Kimberley wanting me to join up with her Ladies Wednesday League Team at her local. Now Kimberley is one of those irresistable types. We met over a kitchen table during a family crisis. Not really a time for laughter, but sometimes there's humour to be found in tragedy, its the only thing that helps, anyway we found it. Unfortunately, first there was the problem of my 'dartitis', oh yes a bona fide affliction (Eric Bristow had it) which prevents the player from letting go of the dart. This results in darts flying off into skirting boards, ceiling lights, the odd passers by (you get the picture). Well the solution/cure is to keep playing and gain confidence. I discovered this while sitting on the sidelines getting a little bit drunk week by week, paying my subs. However, with the assistance of a devoted sportsman type husband things improved. Lozzilicious was born. The night I got my first two doubles for the team, Kimberley was ecstatic. Overcome with emotion and pride, bless her. With the transfer of her darts board to the back of our kitchen door, life took on new meaning. Round the board in 7 minutes. Soon another team, more local to me had 'poached' me for Mondays. New heights indeed. A different league with different game play. Six single matches three double ones and the Gallon. (Dont ask!)
Meanwhile, lots of anecdotal stuff came to light. You see another side to ladies on a darts night. Him indoors picked it up and ran with it...into his Word Doc. and into his M.A. Clever sod.
Winter looms and Wednesday night excursions with Kimberley sadly started interfering with my health (too much booze) and time (3rd year degree at Salford). They had to be cut. Priority decisions had to be made. God I hate that expression.
Nevertheless, the kitchen darts prevail. As does the Monday night team. There's a lot to learn about oneself while aiming a dart. They have lives of their own too, shapes, sizes, weights, all very highbrow.
I owe Kimberley a debt of gratitude. Another string to my bow. Another recovery of confidence lost. So many giggles along the way. We won't talk about the Blackpool annual trip. Discretion, you understand?
She might be nutty as a fruitcake and need some anger management occasionally, but my life is richer for knowing her, Kimberley.