Once again, because it’s the weekend, I’m only writing a very little blog of smallness tonight. The in-laws were round, and so after the rather fabulous roast lamb, everyone played Rummikub, which is a game of evil randomness. Even being worthy to play a single move tonight required twenty-one points, and getting there was a story of shaking-fist-in-fury chance. In one round I didn’t get to play at all, which made me pick up a minus score of over a hundred. Yet despite the luck factor, Rummikub convinces you that you have a modicum of skill as you shift pieces from the board around and start spotting places where you can go. This is a fallacy, of course. It’s all luck. If you get a run of three numbers or three colours early then it’s a cakewalk to the finish, whereas if you’re forced to pick up new cards for several turns then you’re more than a little bit screwed.

As it turned out, I was toast. Terrible cards saw me finishing dead last. Still, wine was had. And Diva Fever were chucked out of The X Factor, which was nice.

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