I've just had one of those weekends. One where, the dust settled, you feel a bit sick. Sick of yourself and sick of gambling.
I definitely over-played, I probably over-staked, and just possibly I was a little unlucky...
Saturday's racing didn't really interest me. So I had no excuse for getting involved in two races. On the plus side, both horses were very well backed and ran well. Which doesn't disguise the fact they both lost. As did the horses in the race I unforgivably chased in - choosing three horses from my short-list of six, only to see the other three land the bonus trifecta pool.
The football followed a similar pattern. Which left me with the golf. Late on Saturday I hauled myself out of my drunken self-pity onto the laptop to top-up on some bets, all my earlier golfing picks long since out of the running. I wondered whether Adam Scott was being opposed on betfair by all those who watched him lose the Open last year. And there was certainly juice in the price at 8s. Except by the time I'd deposited some money, to replace the day's losses, the price was 5s.
Instead I turned my attention to Leishman. Pootling along nicely, under the radar. And so my Adam Scott money went on Leishman at 25/1 each way, first three. I went to bed when he dumped his ball in the water at 15. He finished fourth, naturally.
Back in the old days I took weekends like this on the chin. Or did my best to. In this new world with a minimal bank, I can't afford to be so phlegmatic. I need a "maximum" loss
The £1000 Challenge