Kind of a funny story to cheer us up after being dumped off the boat. We were at a tennis lesson with young Fauntleroy and morosely drinking a large beer. An older man, dashing kind of, walks up and says, I can't help but hear you are from America. I say something like hmm....(it is hard to be friendly off the water) but Thomas perks up and starts chatting and it seems this man is Irish living in England. So we chat and I finally say what my mother says to all Irish she meets: We are direct descendants of the Heavy weight champion of the world (in 1910 or something like that) Gentleman Jim Corbett-an Irishman. To which this man responds: do you know who he beat for the title? I say: John L. Sullivan. He says, I am Frank Sullivan-direct descendant of the vanquished. This was funny, even in my condition. Especially because he was holding the tiniest beer and I was holding something resembling a pig trough. We both saw the symmetry to this. Winner gets the big cup.
Not sure I am coming home. Too far from my boat. (Must swab.)
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