|Posted by woolstonlawnbilliards on January 14, 2011 at 9:34 PM|
Well do I feel like a dunce. It's been said more than once that my assumptions get me into trouble and this one is a stonkeroo. Arthur of New Albion, mentioned as the man with the red hot poker in the previous post, got back to me via Bookface about the balls. They would be ready on Monday afternoon. As the HUGE membership drive (disguised as a bike ride) was to take place the day before, it was a slightly panicky Nic who couldn't get hold of Arthur for a while.
Finally the phone path merged.
"It's all done," said he, "$320 +GST"
This was a lot over what I'd thought, especially given that he'd told me it was to be a quick job and that GST often 'fell off'.
"I haven't got it," I said.
"I'll take a cheque," he replied.
I couldn't come up with that much without first talking about it with my wife, but I knew it wouldn't go well. We'd just forked out a lot to get the car up to warrant standard in advance of a trip to the North Island. Mortgage due, all that kind of carry-on.
Just adding a sting to this tale is the fact that I left the bloke the sole remaining cue, the base plate and the target ring because when I dropped the balls out to him he wanted to know how it was played and asked if he could keep the bits and pieces so he could have a go until they were finished.
So there we have it. No play until I can scrape up the dollars for the infernal poker-work. I'm very despondent because I had spent all my own money getting the equipment up to a good standard, spent countless hours on the phone and driving around looking for a nice place to play only to have let myself down by not asking the right questions at the right time. How long and how much should have leapt forth, but beguiled by Arthur's bon homie I allowed myself to think it may not cost anything at all, like so much of the rest of the work; the cue rings, the base plate, the target ring, the powder coating.
I think in the main it's disappointing for Karl as well as me. We had a regular thing going, meeting every Sunday, playing the wonderful game, building skills and catching up. The children will miss it too. But as much as I hate to admit it, no-one else will miss it, if the readership of this site is anything to by. Darn that dream.