Bah, managed to slice off a fair bit of the roll yesterday evening. Still happy with my pub fold though. I didn't play especially badly until the last hour or so, when my creativity was roughly zero.
I know I said something like, "When posting hands I'm not going to posting flips, getting it in w/KK v AA etc" at the beginning of this diary but look, there below, that's precisely what I'm doing.
Think this is slightly different though because (a) the small blind's hand, (b) it's the biggest pot of the diary so far, and (c) there's *something" of an argument for folding *this deep* against *some players* while doing *this diary* - okay, there's one semi-reg at 10nl who I would 4b/fold to this deep but I can't think of anyone else. Flatted shortie's jam, btw, hoping btn would then re-jam as he had jammed 400 bigs over a 3b literally the hand before this. Did have a feeling, though.
Couple of brutal sessions today, sandwiched between a losing petanque session. I'm in danger of doing an absolute number on my roll if I'm not careful. *Think* that it's down to runbad but was pretty much owned by a couple of regs earlier for a good hour or so. No fun.
Won some hands, though. Problem was, it involved jamming rivers w/low flushes on double-paired boards against regs better than me - not good for the nerves. fwiw I jam most rivers, so got a touch lucky here ...
Anyway, despite lopping £100 or so off my roll since my heroic pub fold yesterday I'm still looking fwd to poker tonight. Hopefully see some of you out there, somewhere.
Tennis lesson with my new coach, Moses, the former Ugandan no.3, at midday today was a joy. Felt like my game improved by about 30% within an hour. Mad skills, Moses, on the ever-so slim chance that you're reading.
Are you any good at tennis SR? If your level could be described as quite to very sh1t I'm always looking for a game...
Tennis lesson with my new coach, Moses, the former Ugandan no.3, at midday today was a joy. Felt like my game improved by about 30% within an hour. Mad skills, Moses, on the ever-so slim chance that you're reading.
Are you any good at tennis SR? If your level could be described as quite to very sh1t I'm always looking for a game...
How close to Bournemouth are you? I can play a bit and have an ever expanding coterie of tennis partners but always up for a game.
Tennis lesson with my new coach, Moses, the former Ugandan no.3, at midday today was a joy. Felt like my game improved by about 30% within an hour. Mad skills, Moses, on the ever-so slim chance that you're reading.
Are you any good at tennis SR? If your level could be described as quite to very sh1t I'm always looking for a game...
How close to Bournemouth are you? I can play a bit and have an ever expanding coterie of tennis partners but always up for a game.
Ah, thought you were London. Coterie definitely getting added to my vocab, as soon as I learn how to pronounce it
Offered my bankroll out in a pub carpark last weekend and smashed it to bits. Think I managed to get it down from £380-ish to £120-ish over a handful of sessions. That showed it.
Since then, it's been a bit of a grind and have got it back to the heady heights of the £390's. It seems that @Duesenberg and I are establishing something of a monopoly on breakeven rakeback diary pros. Go us.
This week hasn't been my favourite comeback, though. No, my favourite comeback ... is that of Mr Sidney Poitier.
It isn't really, it is of my time covering the Norwegian Poker Championships in Ireland a few years ago. Time doesn't allow for a comprehensive dive into this, but I'd taken roughly £500 to play cash games in the eve - barely covering my two days' writing fee - which I torched on my first evening. Remember getting it in pre for 400 bigs w/AA at €1/2 and this dude - and he was a dude - said, "I know I'm going to hit and I'll make a 'meep' sound when I hit."
Flop was something like T77.
No meep.
Turn Q.
"Meep."
And, ofc, he turns over QQ.
So, yeah, there was that. Good old meeps.
I found out I was going to be sharing a room - and a bed - with my editor. He was and has remained the finest editor I've ever had (not 'had' in a romantic, period novel sense) but I wasn't especially keen to be sharing a bed with him. So on the day before I was leaving I started playing poker at 11am - with the view that I wouldn't be sleeping in the room that night - with an extra €200 or so that I'd lopped on to my initial €500 budget. I spun that €200 down to €35 over a couple of hours playing like a weak, passive fish. Surprising, right?
Anyway, got that €35 in on a 965 flop w/96 v two opponents and after the TJ turn/river and lots of raising and reraising and shots being ordered and bonhomie I figured I was toast. Not so, somehow. So I scooped that one, played for a few more hours, got up to €400 and took a break to write a piece. I was out there to be writing, after all.
That evening they had the most amount of cash games ever in Europe in one place and it was phenomenal. It was St Patrick's night so lots of drunk Norwegians, drunk Irish and drunk me's with my recently spun up €400. I played until midday the following day and cashed out for roughly €1400. Apart from taking an hour or so's break, I'd played 25 hours straight and had been drinking the whole time.
After a couple of hours of sleep I woke up feeling horrendous. Thankfully I had a good few hours until my ferry-train-another-train, so I went to a bar, ordered a brandy and a beer, downed them, went to another bar and did the same. Good old bars. I had one more article to write and sat on a €1/2 table to write it and played some more hands and drank some more beers and won some more money and left sometime around 11pm for my ferry/train from Dublin to Bournemouth.
There was a hen do in my train carriage, which of course meant that I had to drink more beers and I have this memory burnt into me of getting some breakfast at a Cafe Rouge outside Euston station and sitting there with an untouched breakfast in front of me and massively touched pints and brandy in front of me and hearing a young girl saying to her mother on another table, "What's the matter with that man?"
Good question, I thought, and one I've been asking myself ever since.
Thankfully, I don't drink anywhere near as much now as I did then. For one, it really gets in the way of my tennis. Actually beat my tennis nemesis (my temesis?) the day before yesterday and had another lesson with the former Ugandan No.3 yesterday and my forehand is getting there.
So that's something. And this week's spin up has been something. Hope all of your weekends are something, too, thanks for reading.
Offered my bankroll out in a pub carpark last weekend and smashed it to bits. Think I managed to get it down from £380-ish to £120-ish over a handful of sessions. That showed it.
Since then, it's been a bit of a grind and have got it back to the heady heights of the £390's. It seems that @Duesenberg and I are establishing something of a monopoly on breakeven rakeback diary pros. Go us.
This week hasn't been my favourite comeback, though. No, my favourite comeback ... is that of Mr Sidney Poitier.
It isn't really, it is of my time covering the Norwegian Poker Championships in Ireland a few years ago. Time doesn't allow for a comprehensive dive into this, but I'd taken roughly £500 to play cash games in the eve - barely covering my two days' writing fee - which I torched on my first evening. Remember getting it in pre for 400 bigs w/AA at €1/2 and this dude - and he was a dude - said, "I know I'm going to hit and I'll make a 'meep' sound when I hit."
Flop was something like T77.
No meep.
Turn Q.
"Meep."
And, ofc, he turns over QQ.
So, yeah, there was that. Good old meeps.
I found out I was going to be sharing a room - and a bed - with my editor. He was and has remained the finest editor I've ever had (not 'had' in a romantic, period novel sense) but I wasn't especially keen to be sharing a bed with him. So on the day before I was leaving I started playing poker at 11am - with the view that I wouldn't be sleeping in the room that night - with an extra €200 or so that I'd lopped on to my initial €500 budget. I spun that €200 down to €35 over a couple of hours playing like a weak, passive fish. Surprising, right?
Anyway, got that €35 in on a 965 flop w/96 v two opponents and after the TJ turn/river and lots of raising and reraising and shots being ordered and bonhomie I figured I was toast. Not so, somehow. So I scooped that one, played for a few more hours, got up to €400 and took a break to write a piece. I was out there to be writing, after all.
That evening they had the most amount of cash games ever in Europe in one place and it was phenomenal. It was St Patrick's night so lots of drunk Norwegians, drunk Irish and drunk me's with my recently spun up €400. I played until midday the following day and cashed out for roughly €1400. Apart from taking an hour or so's break, I'd played 25 hours straight and had been drinking the whole time.
After a couple of hours of sleep I woke up feeling horrendous. Thankfully I had a good few hours until my ferry-train-another-train, so I went to a bar, ordered a brandy and a beer, downed them, went to another bar and did the same. Good old bars. I had one more article to write and sat on a €1/2 table to write it and played some more hands and drank some more beers and won some more money and left sometime around 11pm for my ferry/train from Dublin to Bournemouth.
There was a hen do in my train carriage, which of course meant that I had to drink more beers and I have this memory burnt into me of getting some breakfast at a Cafe Rouge outside Euston station and sitting there with an untouched breakfast in front of me and massively touched pints and brandy in front of me and hearing a young girl saying to her mother on another table, "What's the matter with that man?"
Good question, I thought, and one I've been asking myself ever since.
Thankfully, I don't drink anywhere near as much now as I did then. For one, it really gets in the way of my tennis. Actually beat my tennis nemesis (my temesis?) the day before yesterday and had another lesson with the former Ugandan No.3 yesterday and my forehand is getting there.
So that's something. And this week's spin up has been something. Hope all of your weekends are something, too, thanks for reading.
FFS... It's like trying to share a blogging space with Oscar Wilde. Raconteurial tw@t .
Gracias, hermano. There's a slight addendum involving getting back to Bournemouth (drinking), taking my bro and sister-in-law out for a late boozy lunch and arranging to go partying with a pal that night. Clearly I thought I hadn't had enough to drink by this point. I remember texting my friend* at 7pm saying something like, 'just going for a doze, I'll call you in two hours' and waking up at 11am Sunday morning.
Comments
I know I said something like, "When posting hands I'm not going to posting flips, getting it in w/KK v AA etc" at the beginning of this diary but look, there below, that's precisely what I'm doing.
Think this is slightly different though because (a) the small blind's hand, (b) it's the biggest pot of the diary so far, and (c) there's *something" of an argument for folding *this deep* against *some players* while doing *this diary* - okay, there's one semi-reg at 10nl who I would 4b/fold to this deep but I can't think of anyone else. Flatted shortie's jam, btw, hoping btn would then re-jam as he had jammed 400 bigs over a 3b literally the hand before this. Did have a feeling, though.
Roll: £320
Won some hands, though. Problem was, it involved jamming rivers w/low flushes on double-paired boards against regs better than me - not good for the nerves. fwiw I jam most rivers, so got a touch lucky here ...
coterie though.
Since then, it's been a bit of a grind and have got it back to the heady heights of the £390's. It seems that @Duesenberg and I are establishing something of a monopoly on breakeven rakeback diary pros. Go us.
This week hasn't been my favourite comeback, though. No, my favourite comeback ... is that of Mr Sidney Poitier.
It isn't really, it is of my time covering the Norwegian Poker Championships in Ireland a few years ago. Time doesn't allow for a comprehensive dive into this, but I'd taken roughly £500 to play cash games in the eve - barely covering my two days' writing fee - which I torched on my first evening. Remember getting it in pre for 400 bigs w/AA at €1/2 and this dude - and he was a dude - said, "I know I'm going to hit and I'll make a 'meep' sound when I hit."
Flop was something like T77.
No meep.
Turn Q.
"Meep."
And, ofc, he turns over QQ.
So, yeah, there was that. Good old meeps.
I found out I was going to be sharing a room - and a bed - with my editor. He was and has remained the finest editor I've ever had (not 'had' in a romantic, period novel sense) but I wasn't especially keen to be sharing a bed with him. So on the day before I was leaving I started playing poker at 11am - with the view that I wouldn't be sleeping in the room that night - with an extra €200 or so that I'd lopped on to my initial €500 budget. I spun that €200 down to €35 over a couple of hours playing like a weak, passive fish. Surprising, right?
Anyway, got that €35 in on a 965 flop w/96 v two opponents and after the TJ turn/river and lots of raising and reraising and shots being ordered and bonhomie I figured I was toast. Not so, somehow. So I scooped that one, played for a few more hours, got up to €400 and took a break to write a piece. I was out there to be writing, after all.
That evening they had the most amount of cash games ever in Europe in one place and it was phenomenal. It was St Patrick's night so lots of drunk Norwegians, drunk Irish and drunk me's with my recently spun up €400. I played until midday the following day and cashed out for roughly €1400. Apart from taking an hour or so's break, I'd played 25 hours straight and had been drinking the whole time.
After a couple of hours of sleep I woke up feeling horrendous. Thankfully I had a good few hours until my ferry-train-another-train, so I went to a bar, ordered a brandy and a beer, downed them, went to another bar and did the same. Good old bars. I had one more article to write and sat on a €1/2 table to write it and played some more hands and drank some more beers and won some more money and left sometime around 11pm for my ferry/train from Dublin to Bournemouth.
There was a hen do in my train carriage, which of course meant that I had to drink more beers and I have this memory burnt into me of getting some breakfast at a Cafe Rouge outside Euston station and sitting there with an untouched breakfast in front of me and massively touched pints and brandy in front of me and hearing a young girl saying to her mother on another table, "What's the matter with that man?"
Good question, I thought, and one I've been asking myself ever since.
Thankfully, I don't drink anywhere near as much now as I did then. For one, it really gets in the way of my tennis. Actually beat my tennis nemesis (my temesis?) the day before yesterday and had another lesson with the former Ugandan No.3 yesterday and my forehand is getting there.
So that's something. And this week's spin up has been something. Hope all of your weekends are something, too, thanks for reading.
Love this diary, keep on pushing to all your goals. And keep writing about it. GL!
A wonderful piece of writeage.
Was your writing in Dublin for print media or Online content?
*thin got a friend/got a mobile phone brag