Tan’s croquet set arrived. The sound of mallet on ball was marvellous to hear again. I started well, winning the first game easily, then gradually deteriorated, until it seemed I could no longer strike anything cleanly. Or, rather, I could strike it okay, but it didn’t go where I expected. I put this down to devious ‘burrows’, heavy dew on the grass, and constant verbal sniping from lesser players capitalising on my momentary lapse. So far as I’m concerned, the scatter pattern on the mallet faces tells it like it is.