Vegas Day 2 - Acclimatisation

If there's one activity I can claim to be an expert on, it's sleeping.

Every workday is an effort for me. On weekends I can sleep for 12 hours, and still want an afternoon nap. When flying I've been known to fall asleep before the plane is in the sky, and not awake until the thump of rubber on tarmac as we arrive at our destination.

Thus I was stunned to find myself staring at a clock which told me the time was 7.45am. My sleep had lasted for less than five hours, after over a day of constant activity. I'd not been so surprised since Maurice Johnston signed for Rangers.

I lingered in the room for an hour. Convinced I'd nod off again at any second. It didn't happen.

Surveying my accommodation, I had mixed views on the MGM Grand West Wing concept.

On the plus side, the rooms are luxuriously fitted out. Nice bed linen, BOSE radio/CD, leather seat, big TV with DVD, and a second TV embedded in the bathroom mirror.

All very swish, and ultra modern. It just reeks of an expensive finish.

On the negative side, the rooms are tiny. There's no separate bathroom. Instead a partition and transition from carpet to tiles marks out the bathroom section, where a very powerful shower, and a toilet, are encapsulated in two frosted glass walk-in cubicles.

Throw in a view of an opposing wall from the window, and I was somewhat ambivalent about the concept.

The corridors are depressing. Dark carpet, dark walls, and a low ceiling gave it the air of an open prison. Compensating for this was the short distance from room to designer bar, with the poker room just a few paces beyond.

By 9.30am I was perched at the bar in the Studio Cafe, awaiting commencement of my first proper breakfast of the trip. I'd ordered coffee and water to get me going.

The waitress placed a large glass of a reddish liquid in front of me.

'Errr, what's this?'

'Your cranberry juice.'

Second accent issue of the trip.

Communication difficulties resolved, I tucked into an enormous Grand Breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and more. I'm a big fan of US breakfasts!

The guy next to me at the bar engaged me in conversation. He resembled a more animated version of Mr Miyagi, and told me he was an ex-paratrooper.

Together with his wife, they'd retired to Vegas and although they owned an apartment, they spent most of their time residing in hotels using the comps they built up through gaming activities.

'You gotta be careful.' he told me, 'The only game you can beat is poker.'

I nodded sagely.

Returning to my room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length hallway mirrors. I paused and stared for a second.

Many people wish for film star looks. Right now, I resembled Casper the Ghost.

I needed some sun and had some shopping to do, as I was planning to exploit the weak dollar to get a new digital camera.

An oversight on my part had also found me in Vegas minus a watch. Not a good idea. A new timepiece was also on the agenda.

I navigated The Strip from the shops at Planet Hollywood, where I found a decent watch, to The Forum at Caesars Palace where my new camera was purchased.

The scale of Vegas really is astounding. On my previous visit, K and I had made a big effort to get round all the major landmarks, from Mandalay Bay to The Stratosphere, and on to Fremont Street.

Yet as I wandered around The Forum shops - which are ornate, luxurious, and vast - I had no recollection of being there before. Had we missed them, had they changed beyond recognition, or had I simply forgotten? I had no clue.

As I meandered around town, I couldn't help noticing the preoccupation Vegas has with some rather unlikely UK artists.

Spice Girls in The Bellagio was strange but at least proportionate; Human League blasting out onto The Strip from an unidentifiable venue was unexpected; but the icing on the cake was Rick Astley in the MGM. Downright weird.

Entering the MGM to a rather more contemporary soundtrack, I experienced one of those bizarre moments only Vegas can provide.

Dancing on the Centrifuge bar to Christina Aguilera were three bartenders. Edging through the watching tourists was a wedding party - complete with bride in white.

As I stepped aside, a lion roared to my right. Not a taped roar. A real, full blooded roar from one of the two lions being fed in the perspex cage, as another crowd of tourists snapped merrily away.

Dancing bartenders, brides, and lions. I grinned broadly and paused for a moment to absorb the scene.

After dropping off my purchases in my room, I made my first use of the relatively new Las Vegas Monorail.

I've seen some derogatory comments about this system, but to me it was a fantastic resource. A $9 ticket gets unlimited travel for 24 hours, and the trip from MGM to Sahara took only 15 minutes. It seemed extremely well utilised whenever I was on board.

The purpose of my visit to The Sahara was to sample their two theme rides. The Speed rollercoaster, and Cyber Speedway Nascar simulator.

I wasn't too concerned about my hearty breakfast, since I'd done a fair bit of walking since then.

A group of middle aged English guys queued ahead of me, as we awaited the arrival of the Speed carriage.

I settled down in the carriage behind them, eagerly anticipating the ride commencement.

'Fucking hell', I exclaimed, as the carriage suddenly shot forward like a bullet from a gun.

My cheeks felt like they were pinned back to my ears as we hurtled through a succession of twists and into a loop. Pausing momentarily before reversing the original route back to the start.

I staggered off the ride elated but more than a little queasy. The English guys in front all had similar expressions. We were giggling like kids.

In the past I've been on bigger, higher, twistier rides, but I've never experienced one where I still felt like I was waiting for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body an hour after the ride finished.

Which made it a supremely bad idea to go straight onto the Nascar ride, but it didn't stop me.

In comparison to Speed, Nascar was a bit of a letdown. No one else was driving, and me against the circuit was a bit dull - even if I did manage to spin off once. At least I 'won' a t-shirt.

The plan was to continue onwards to The Stratosphere, but the desert winds were gusting and I could see the rides weren't running, which came as a great relief to the empty space where my stomach used to reside.

Instead I went back to my room for a quick snooze, before hitting up the MGM Poker Room again.

When I got there the place was rocking and I was soon seated at one of many $1/2 NLH tables.

The table was fun, friendly, and wild. I post to play and look down at AKs. So pretty! Making it $10 to play, I'm instantly repopped by an older guy to my left.

Aaargh. 1st hand, no reads, I take a flop, miss completely, and check fold. He tells me he had AA. Maybe he did. Most of his future play does point in that direction.

I then get QQ. Raise up a multitude of callers, c-bet an A9x high flop, and when the board pairs 9s on the turn, the only flop check-caller leads into me, which makes it an easy fold.

Still, it's all good fun. An English dealer joins the table. Pretty soon she is chiding two Hispanic guys who are talking Spanish during a hand.

They've been warned a few times before by other dealers and take it all in good spirits, claiming they've never played before. I don't believe that, but I do believe they aren't taking the game seriously.

The dealer and I are having a good chat about UK matters, and one of the Hispanic guys butts in with the 'English only' warning to us. We all have a good laugh about the accent issues.

One of the Hispanic guys is playing pretty wild. He's in the habit of min re-raising anyone who raises pre-flop. It's working too. People keep calling the reraise then folding on the flop. I resolve not to give him the opportunity to bet me off a flop.

I find AK again and raise. As expected he doubles the bet. I push for roughly $150 in total. He gives me a slightly surprised look, shrugs nonchalantly, and calls.

For a second I'm having one of those 'shit I just ran into a real hand' moments, until he tables AJo. Happy days, as my hand holds up and I'm ahead for the evening.

The table is mostly tourists, but there are obviously a couple of faces more familiar to the dealers. One of whom is a young, pretty brunette girl who gets into a hand with a table newbie sat immediately to my left.

The Newbie is the one bad egg at the table. Terrible player, and whiny with it.

There's some light action on the flop; he gives a free card on the turn; and eventually calls after heavy river action, only to discover his flopped two pair has gone down to the girl's rivered set of Jacks.

He slams the table in disgust, and turns to me.

'Why do I always lose like that!? I've lost so much today, and always on the river.'

I nod sympathetically, whilst thinking if you knew how to bet, she'd never have got there. For the rest of his time at the table, I studiously ignore him.

Cashing out ahead, I make my way to the Crazy Horse Paris burlesque show. The joy of being in Vegas is being able to make last minute decisions on the most outlandish range of entertainment options!

I was glad not to be seated at a table with any particularly lovey-dovey couples. Could have got a bit embarrassing!

The show itself was fun without being wild. The girls are amazing - I doubt there's a finer collection of (naturally) perky boobs and bums in Vegas - and it's all very stylishly lit and tastefully choreographed, but it's hardly raunchy.

'More flirty than dirty', was how I described it to K later.

I presume the MGM management have certain ideas about the image of their establishment that necessitates keeping the sexy stuff at a rather anodyne level.

It didn't help that the crowd was somewhat unresponsive. Mostly sitting back and exuding a 'here we are now, entertain us' vibe. The grand finale was a real showstopper, but it got little more than polite applause.

After the show I headed back to Centrifuge for a few drinks. The waiting lists in the poker room were huge, and I figured I'd be ready for bed before a seat was available.

First full day in Vegas complete. Sun, cheap gadgets, thrill rides, booze, poker, and naked girls. Not a bad way to start the holiday.

Vegas Day 1 - Direct Flights, Delays, and Donkeys

I'm a fan of flying and travel. So much so, that when it comes to planning a trip, the fun starts with finding the right flights and hotels.

For trips to the USA from Glasgow, the preferred option has to be Continental, since they go directly to Newark, thus bypassing the hassle of an additional stop over in London, Amsterdam, or Iceland, and the annoyance in many cases of flying in the wrong direction for 90 minutes, only to then retrace the same route, and find myself flying over Scotland again on the westbound leg.

The problem with this, is that lots of other people hold the same view, which means the flights are generally popular i.e. more expensive. Thus I was delighted to eventually grab a deal that was comparable with the two-stoppers offered by American Airlines, Northwest, etc. £403 (~$810) return from Glasgow to Las Vegas. I was ahead before I even began.

This planning saw me and K at Glasgow Airport last Tuesday morning around 7am. In good time for the 9am departure. We passed some time with a coffee, before saying our fond farewells. Much as I was looking forward to the trip, and a week away from work, I wasn't looking forward to a week without my family.

The flight to Newark was ready to leave in good time, which left only a short period for some people watching on the international pier.

It's late in the season for holidays to the Mediterranean sun, but even so, two flights to Palma were due for departure, and there were more than a few pints of lager being sunk at 8am.

I settled down to fill in my immigration and customs forms, only to hit the first snag of the trip. The instructions were to complete in pen. I had only a pencil.

No problem. There's a WH Smith 20 yards away. Which doesn't sell pens. ffs.

Around now, I noticed a minor panic occurring within earshot. An extended family unit was in disarray. The plane at gate 33 had gone; they'd missed their flight.

Except they hadn't, as the group were too drunk/stupid to realise the departure of the second Palma flight was from gate 31. In direct line of sight, but at the furthest point in the pier.

Eventually it sunk in, and as the 'last call' tannoy messages grew sterner, they sped off down the corridor. All, save for a grotesquely fat woman, who waddled past at a glacial pace. Wheezing like an asthmatic seal. Her stubby arms pumping frantically as she tried to work up a pace.

I feared for the health of whoever was wedged beside her sweaty carcass on that three hour flight.

Soon enough my flight was called, and I soon found myself on a packed 757 winging across the Atlantic.

Time considerations meant I'd eaten little, so was looking forward to the airline 'breakfast'. This transpired to be the classic 'beef or chicken' option.

Roast beef and mashed potatoes isn't my ideal breakfast, but it was tasty enough, and certainly filled the gap.

My travel companions were a middle aged Scots couple, headed to their annual 28 days in Tampa. Not a bad life! The guy worked in the military sector, which made for an interesting chat, and they had a pen to loan me, so all was good.

It got better at Newark, as I sailed through Immigration and Customs in around fifteen minutes. Well short of the two hours I'd been briefed to expect on a couple of online forums.

After re-checking my case for the flight to Las Vegas I headed for the security checks, which took only another 15 minutes.

No great hardship, though the TSA staff at Newark are probably the second most sullen people in the airport. The checks had an air of chaos, with some agents waving people forward, others gesturing to the back. Some shouting, others apparently oblivious to the travellers around them.

My swift journey through the various checks was in one way a bad-beat, since I'd planned in sufficient time to ensure I made my connection, and now found myself in the departure area, an hour before an EARLIER flight was due to depart.

I decided to chance my arm with customer services. Approaching the desk I explained my desire to switch to the earlier flight. The lady behind the computer eyed me with a vacant, uncomprehending gaze.

My first accent issue. I explained again. Slowly. Precisely. With much reinforcement through hand gestures.

She tapped at her keyboard for a few seconds. An aura of pure disinterest emanating from her very soul. 'Eeeees full.'

The conversation was over. I thanked her for her 'assistance' and headed to the Garden State diner for a distinctly average tasting, but gargantuan in scale, pastrami and corned beef melt.

A big lunch was to prove a fortuitous choice, as the day progressed.

Newark is a slightly strange airport. Bright and airy, lots of space, a good range of eating options, and comfortable seats at the gates. Yet lacking in options to amuse anyone caught there for a lengthy period of time.

As I wandered around, I was surprised to see the queue at one of the ladies restrooms stretch onto the concourse, despite the airport appearing to be less than packed. The queue seemed more commensurate with a club at 3am than a modern hub airport.

Arriving at the departure gate, my heart sank as a two hour delay was flagged up for my flight. It sank further as the delay grew to three hours, and the bad news spread across a range of flights. Bad weather to the west was shutting out a number of destinations, including Vegas.

My people watching urges were sated by the arrival of a group of three media/PR types who were in loud despair at the hole blown in their schedule by the weather.

They were making great play of their missing some important meeting, and their voices seemed to be on a bizarre volume control setting, which peaked ostentatiously at each mention of their itinerary, or cutting edge MO.

'We'll call you when we get there and CHECK IN AT THE BELLAGIO'

'Yeah after we shoot the video AT THE VENETIAN, I'll head back to my room and POST IT ON YOU TUBE'

PR1 was a camp guy with confused fashion sense - suit by Wall Street, shirt by Saturday Night Fever.

PR2 was a foxy brunette in perilous heels and pencil skirt, who took the sexy executive vibe to it's logical conclusion with a pair of designer glasses, after firing up her MacBook.

PR3 was another girl, though more chunky than foxy. This hadn't deterred her from an outfit that was greatly more revealing than PR2, and about 100 times less sexy.

100 became 1000 when she sat down directly opposite me, and performed the first of many 'movie star' leg crosses - her skirt riding up to reveal not a Sharon Stone approach to underwear (thankfully!), but a post-pregnancy Katie Holmes style bodyshaping garment.

It was a car crash flash. I couldn't help but look, as her retreating skirt revealed what appeared to be a pair of exploding sausages beneath. Eventually, I had to move, and went off to acquire a banana and raspberry smoothie. This wasn't to be the last thought of Katie on this trip.

Finally we were boarded and ready to go. Except we weren't. The pilot explained that all the 'western gates' were closed due to weather, so he was planning to take a 'north gate' up around Detroit to skirt the troublesome front. This would add an hour to the flight time, but at least we'd get away.

As we neared the end of the taxiway, alarms bells went off in my head. We exited from the queue of departing aircraft, crossing the runway to park alone on the opposite taxiway. The pilot returned to the intercom. The north gates had just shut down, so we'd be turning off the engines and awaiting the passing of the bad weather.

For roughly an hour we had a planespotters dream view of a succession of 747, 777, A340, etc. taking off to head eastwards across the Atlantic. The plane shook with each surging roar of jet engines.

I nodded off. The sole comfort of the flight being the low occupancy rate meant I had three seats to myself.

My thoughts darkened as I recalled Ms 'Eees Full' from earlier. Had the earlier flight really been full? Could I be in Vegas by now?

Later these suspicions were allayed as I overheard another passenger complaining on her cellphone about going through the same conversation as I - though probably without the hand gestures.

I managed to sleep for a good part of the flight, and my spirits soared as the plane descended and the bright lights of The Strip hove into view.

Awaiting disembarkation, I chatted to the travellers behind me, a couple of off-duty cabin crew who were in town for some partying.

The girl was in town for one night only, so the delay had put a real dent in her evening. The guy was a Vegas local, back for ten days, but even so he was ready to hit the town straight away.

He told me he loved Glasgow as a stopover, and his favourite bar was The Polo Lounge, which made me smile as it reinforces just about every stereotype you'd care to apply to male cabin crew.

They were chatty and friendly, like most of the Continental cabin crew, and we all agreed the Vegas skyline had remarkable restorative powers after a bad flight.

The MGM Grand check-in at McCarran was closed due to the late hour, so I grabbed my case and headed for the cab rank.

Soon I was being regaled by a wiry Latino cab driver - who told me he was a boxer - with tales of his half-Scottish girlfriend.

I smiled indulgently, assuming I was getting some tourist patter, though my scepticism faded as he waxed lyrical on the merits of her pale skin, freckles, and reddish hair. This guy needn't box, he's a world class bullshitter, I thought, as his phone rang.

'Hey baby, I got a Scottish guy in my cab. I'm taking him to the MGM.', he yelled into the phone, as he activated the loud speaker.

'Omigod! I'm half-Scottish!', yelled an American female voice.

Only in Vegas!

I got a great deal at the MGM Grand via Fatwallet. $225 for three nights, inclusive of some drinks and entertainment credits.

The check in queue was mercifully short, and I was soon allocated a 'West Wing' room on the 5th floor.

I trekked to the room, dragging my case behind me, and slid the plastic key into the slot. Nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing happened.

From inside the room I detected the sound of a TV, and a female voice, unaware of my presence and in conversation with another occupant.

I contemplated my options. Knock the door, explain my predicament, and get them to call reception and sort it out, or traipse back to reception myself and find out what the hell was happening.

With visions of being shot on my first night, or busted on an attempted rape charge, I took the second option. This never happens to James Bond, I thought, as I descended in the lift.

'Oh, you went to the 5th floor.', deadpanned a different receptionist.

'Well it says five on the card?'

'She meant to write a three' tutted the receptionist, as she corrected the original numeral.

Seems I wasn't the only one having a bad day.

Finally at around midnight, after being on-the-go for over 26 hours, I entered my room in Vegas. I was tired, hungry, and sweaty.

There was only one thing to do. I showered, changed, collected my players card from the desk in the casino, and headed for the poker room to break myself in gently.

'Have you got any small limit games going?'

'We have a 3/6 table with a seat open.'

'Perfect', I smiled.

An hour later I was slightly regretting my decision. The table was dull, with a definite lack of social chat, and I'd had no cards at all to play.

My only consolation, most of the players were rubbish. It was a total loose-passive limpathon.

Finally, I looked down at AQo. Two players limped, I raised, and the only two players I'd labelled as half-decent both cold called with position on me. My heart sank and I immediately discounted trying to win this pot with aggression if I missed the flop - which was AQ3 rainbow.

So, not a miss. Of course I bet when checked to, both to my left called, but the pattern took an unexpected twist when I got check-raised by a dull guy in the BB who'd been haemorrhaging chips since I sat down, and communicating only with a friend who was railing him.

Three betting was automatic, which drove everyone else out of the pot, and he check-called me down, and mucked on the river, leaving me to rake a healthy pot.

Soon after, the last of his chips were gone, and he departed in silence.

By about 3am little else of interest had happened, and I was finally succumbing to fatigue. Forgetting when my blinds were due, losing track of the action, and taking an age to read the board.

Calling it quits I liberated a rack from a short-stack and cashed in about $60 to the good. A pleasant way to end a very long day.

Navigating my way through the corridor between poker room and hotel room, I chanced upon a couple of young black girls loitering outside the West Wing bar.

'Hey cutie!', they called in unison.

'Sorry girls.', I motioned apologetically. Rapidly deducing their company would cost a lot more than $60, as I detoured around them and headed for the solitude of my room, and what was sure to be a long, deep sleep.

I Did Survive

Made it back with a thankfully flawless return trip.

Bankroll slightly depleted.
Liver somewhat distended.
Sleep pattern greatly distorted.

Back to work in sixteen hours. Full report to follow, including...

Journey from hell.
Donkey calls win monster pots.
Staring into the abyss at 10am.
Drunken poker with a bracelet winner.
Have you heard of polar bears?
What I did with Katie Holmes.
Only in Vegas.
Best lapdance. Ever.
Spillage with Swiper the Fox.
Who thinks I'm a cutie.
Vegas on three hours sleep and one meal a day.

Bliss

As a pasty faced Scotsman, who can barely recall what warm sun feels like on his back, I have to say that this...



gives me almost as much pleasure as this...



Eleven hours to take off.

Vegas Resolutions

The last Div trip to Vegas was a relatively cultured affair.

Sightseeing, Grand Canyon, shows. We did fit in some gambling and drinking, but hardly on an epic scale.

This time, it's gonna be different...

Not that I'm planning to spend the entire time in a drunken stupor. I do have some resolutions to try to give a little order to the time.

Dos -

Play lots of poker. Not just No-Limit Hold Em. Try to fit in at least one or two other live variants for the first time.

Rollercoasters/theme rides. Last time I made it to NYNY. This time I'm aiming to catch up on the ones I missed. Especially the ones at the top of The Stratosphere. Adrenaline junkie am I.

Get out-and-about. I fancy a visit to The Gambler's Book Shop.

Learn to play craps. Speaker has promised to teach me. This may impact negatively on Don't no. 1.

Eat reasonably well. Man cannot live on JD and coke alone.

Chill. I'm there to have fun. If some loon cracks my Aces with 83 sooted, I'll smile, reload, have another drink, and tip the waitress a little extra for karma.

Don't -

Go busto! Obviously.

Spend every minute at the poker table.

Come home with a 'poker player tan'. I've booked two hotels with decent pools for a reason.

Miss any flights. Fly 5500 miles on Monday/Tuesday. Back at work on Wednesday. Any delays will be a recipe for disaster.

Get drunk and wake up married to Britney.

That's Why They're Champions

I've got a lot of time for people who conduct themselves with dignity, and display some self respect in their actions.

So, hats off to Adriano Galliani, Carlo Ancelotti, Clarence Seedorf, and AC Milan in general - with the obvious exception of diddy Dida - for their reaction to last night's fiasco at the Celtic game.

It's not as if the three points are insignificant to them. With Shakhtar Donetsk winning again, the group is wide open.

I'm sure Milan will expect to qualify, but it's not guaranteed yet. For Milan to be so forceful about their lack of desire for a replay or points deduction for Celtic shows a degree of class that many in football wouldn't even aspire to.

That's the joy of being in the Champions League and competing with the true giants of the game. It takes more than great players to make a club great.

As for the arsehole who tangled with Dida, the papers are reporting that he has handed himself in to the police. Possibly the wisest thing he's done in a long time since he will probably be safer in a cell, than on the streets at present.

I'd love to know what the police and stewarding bill was for last night, and whether Celtic will be getting a discount.

What a farce that someone can meander across the pitch, get involved with the opposition keeper, then melt into the crowd without a single uniform laying a finger on him.

Only Two...

...and she already drives better than Britney.

September Summary

Had a bit of an 'oh shit!' moment this afternoon, when I actually realised it was October.

This should be a good thing, since it means only eight days til Vegas, but alas was also a bad thing, since it meant I was due to write up the monthly summary post.

The final number wasn't quite as bad as I had imagined. I'm down around $800 for the month at the tables. When the rakeback arrives I'd guess the nett loss will be under $700.

Hardly ideal, and it really puts a poor slant on the already lagging annual figure, but better to be a little ahead over all, than a lot down.

Trying to remain positive since I'm well aware there are worse fates in life than a few bad beats at the table.

Light Relief

Enough bad beat whining for now!

Not played this week due to various work and family commitments, so here's a jolly hand from last weekend.

Over the last few weeks I've mentioned a hand where I totally overplayed AQ pre-flop against a nutter who finally found a hand against me, and opined on a PLO hand that shipping it all-in as a 60/40 favourite pre-flop was good, but not necessarily reflective of the edge I do have over *some* players.

I have an ongoing internal dialogue on this subject. Clearly in cash it's always good to get your money in ahead, but over time, I do sometimes veer towards the thought that passing up some marginal +EV situations in favour of maximising the edge elsewhere is a good idea.

This is one of those areas where results have a distorting effect on decisions, as after losing four on five 60/40s on the bounce - or running into a 20/80 where you are actually 60/40 against the opponents range - it's easy to start getting gun-shy.

Recent results have obviously pushed me down the gun-shy route for now, but as the magic hand shows, this isn't always a bad thing.

We are six handed at a recently opened table which has yet to fill. The Maniac is running 88%/29% on a small sample size. Effective stacks are $100, though he has already run up to $160+ with hands ranging from 72o to A8s.

UTG, and with The Maniac on the button, I find

and decide to limp. Folded to The Maniac who, as expected, makes it $6 to play. Folded back to me, and in gun-shy mode, I decide to call.

Against his range I'm way ahead, I'm also OOP, so there's a strong case for a limp-reraise, but I'll freely admit I'm not bursting with confidence, and I know he aint folding any pair here, so I rationalise it as not wanting to pay off a loon only to see the cash quickly sent elsewhere.

All of which seems a lot more valid when the flop comes

If I liked my hand anymore here, I'd be putting a poster of it on the bedroom wall!

44, 22, and even 42 do all go through my head as not impossible holdings for this guy, but that's taking fear of monsters to an extreme.

Given his constant aggression, check raising to $32 after his $8 c-bet is standard stuff.

What isn't standard is him three-betting all-in, meaning I have to call another $63 into a $140 pot.

At this point I'm thinking he either has a legitimate made hand, or perhaps even a lesser flush draw. Either way, I'm definitely calling.

Which I do, and am rewarded with the site of his

hole cards!!

9/1 when the chips went in. That's the sort of odds I like.

No more drama and a $200 pot slides my way.

I suppose you could attempt to offer some credit to the other fella, and say he may have put me on a lesser drawing hand that King-high was actually beating, but really whacking all your chips in the middle on that flop has to be a long term losing play, and one which certainly brightened up my day.

Long may it continue!

Justice

It's been a pretty crap week for a variety of reasons, so it's nice to approach what will be a big weekend in the Div household with some good news.

Way back in May last year, I mentioned a place called Dusk Till Dawn that was planned to open in Nottingham.

I reckoned it would be one of Europe's premier poker venues.

Sadly it almost fell victim to a case of blatant collusion and protectionism by some of the biggest operators of casinos in the UK.

This led to a lengthy delay to the opening as additional legal hurdles were cleared.

The delay must have cost Rob Yong millions, but the good news is the local magistrates saw sense, and with the full support of the UK Gambling Commission Dusk Till Dawn has received full legal clearance and is ready to open.

Forty five nine handed tables, a luxurious spec, high rollers room, and full hospitality. A little piece of Vegas in Nottingham.

Hell I've even heard there's a lap dancing club nearby!

The press release is here, and some pics of the club can be found here.

It's great to see the big boys turned over for once. The Glasgow boys are already plotting their first trip down.

I pinched the champagne cork picture from the DTD site as it seemed appropriate for what I'm expecting to be a very pleasant, but exhausting weekend.

K's sister is getting married, and E is a flower girl, for the second time this year.

First time around I was the parent with a role to play in the ceremony and K was left to keep the toddler in check.

This time I'm the one tasked with maintaining order. Confidently looking forward to a day of perpetual motion, occasional tantrums, but lots of joy and smiles....and possibly some booze.

Aaarrghhh

This is getting ridiculous. The story of my weekend....

Get KK. Raise. Everyone folds.

Get KK (on the very next hand at the same table!). Raise. Everyone folds.

Get QQ. Raise. Everyone folds.

Get AA. Raise. Everyone folds.

Get QQ. Raise. Get reraised from the blinds by a hyper aggressive bluff monkey with eye popping PokerTracker stats. Do exactly as the book says and go passive allowing him to bluff all his chips to you....with KK.

On the very last orbit, of the very last table, UTG+1, get AA. Raise. Get called by a loose passive middle stack. Bet the pot on a flushing flop. Get called. Set him all-in on a blank turn. He flopped a set of queens.

I've got some more interesting hands to ruminate over, but they'll need to wait til I can rustle up a clearer head. Time for another few days off I think.

Evolution

How times change.

I played my first hand of online poker around three years ago, and was shaking like a leaf while playing a solitary $5 SNG on Pacific Poker.

Pacific didn't even allow multi-tabling. So even if I wanted to, I couldn't have kept more than one table running simultaneously.

Today on my 24" monitor, this was the scene....



Not quite TillerMaN standards ($140,000 in a month!!), but I'm reasonably happy - despite my recent bewailings - and I have what is effectively free money to spend in Vegas.

Need. More. Tissues.

All booked...

* CO 17 - Glasgow, Scotland (GLA) to New York/Newark, NJ (EWR - Liberty) on Tue., 9 Oct., 2007
* CO 1468 - New York/Newark, NJ (EWR - Liberty) to Las Vegas, NV (LAS) on Tue., 9 Oct., 2007
* CO 269 - Las Vegas, NV (LAS) to New York/Newark, NJ (EWR - Liberty) on Mon., 15 Oct., 2007
* CO 106 - New York/Newark, NJ (EWR - Liberty) to Glasgow, Scotland (GLA) on Mon., 15 Oct., 2007

Tuesday - Friday: MGM Grand
Friday - Monday: Tropicana

Bring it on!

It's Yer Money I'm After Baby

Munching my breakfast this morning I caught a bit of the BBC News coverage of the ongoing credit crunch that has hammered Northern Rock most cruelly in the UK.

As I digested my Rice Krispies, I also digested the news that Alliance and Leicester shares had been absolutely killed on the LSE. Dropping 31% for no legitimate reason. A victim of the herd mentality of the markets.

The Chancellor, Alistair Darling, has also publicly guaranteed the security of all Northern Rock deposits. The queues of frantic depositors withdrawing their life savings from Northern Rock branches had dwindled, and order was being restored to their call centre and online banking service.

As an aside, if I was Chief Exec of Northern Rock, this would have been my cue to hike all my deposit account interest rates by 2%, but maybe he is not as opportunistic as me.

On the train to work I mused, 'today could be a good day to buy Alliance and Leicester shares'. By the time I'd reached my desk, they were up 20%. By close of play the jump was 32%. ffs.

Another missed opportunity. Some spare cash to invest could have come in handy today!

This led me to speculate on other potential gainers from the current situation. Certainly armoured car operators must have made a few quid over the weekend, as Northern Rock shipped hundreds of millions in cash to their branches.

It strikes me that the most likely winners from the unfolding crisis are not likely to be listed on the stock exchange. Well, I certainly couldn't find a Muggers, Burglars, and Fraudsters plc anywhere on the LSE boards.

If there's one thing I've learned from the last few days, it's not just how financially illiterate thousands of surprisingly wealthy people are - where the hell did some of them get such sums!? - it's also how utterly clueless about security they are.

Queuing at the bank to take out gargantuan lumps of cash on the grounds it's not safe to leave it where it is, whilst giving interviews to Sky News, BBC News 24, etc. proclaiming with outrage 'I've got £250,000 with NR and I'm going to take out as much of it as they can give me today'.

Yeah great move. Why not broadcast your address too, and details of which bus you are planning to take your quarter million cash home on?

Are people really so stupid? The evidence suggest so.

Muggers often lurk near cashline/ATMs hoping to relieve some unfortunate of the £100 or £200 they've just withdrawn.

This week it's more a case of wait outside the building society for the first doddering pensioner trailing two bin bags full of £20 notes. Talk about hitting the jackpot. Quarter of a million pounds must buy a shitload of crack.

My New Favourite Hand

Another day, another dollar. Another weekend, another $700 down the tubes. There follows a bad beat whine, but jump to the end for some comedy gold.

Often I see tales of players running small sums up into mega amounts in short order, and wonder whether I should be more liberal in my bankroll management. Take a few more risks to see if I can move up the ranks more swiftly.

Weekends like the one just past persuade me that prudence is the way to go.

Looking back over my results spreadsheets, I've been unable to trace another period of such dreadful returns.

One thing that always concerns me about playing no-limit, especially across multiple tables simultaneously, is the danger of a tilt session turning into a bankroll destructing disaster that could take months to recover from.

Fortunately I've managed to avoid that, and while $700 is not to be sneezed at, it's still less than 10% of my bankroll.

I'm not prone to hugely introspective delves into the statistical depths of PokerTracker. Generally I stick to reviewing big pots won or lost, and going over any hands where I think later I might have made a different decision, or played in a different style.

The most important question I ask myself is, did I get my money in ahead? In cash games there's not much else that matters in the long term.

Over the weekend, I'm pleased to say I mostly managed to get the cash in ahead, but I did fail the test in a couple of big hands. Both of which had some unusual qualities.

I also played one of the most memorably bizarre hands I've ever seen.

Hand 1 is a standard cooler. The last four or five times I've had AA or KK I've taken the blinds. When I find myself on the button looking down at KK, my heart sinks as it's folded around to me. Am I going to miss out on action again?

Fortunately my raising rate on the button is pretty high, so I'm aware that a small raise here will not seem out of place. From my $96 stack, I make it $3 to play.

SB insta-pushes for $110. BB folds.

I pause, but only for a second or two. Surely noone would play Aces like that against a button raise that could be almost any two cards? More likely Ace-big or a middle pair who thinks I'm getting frisky.

Get real, I tell myself. You WANT to be re-popped here.

I call and get shown Aces. No suckout and bye-bye to a buy-in. The pusher leaves within a few hands, and appears 20 minutes later on another table. ffs. Pissed off! Won't make that mistake against them again!

Hand 2 is against a total nutter. I've already seen him win big pots with K3s UTG, and 94o when calling a raise from the small blind. His stats are insane - in the 80%/40% range - and he almost never folds once he's in a hand. His stack is yo-yoing wildly, and everyone wants to play him with half a hand.

So wild is he that people are calling his river all-ins with 4th pair.

UTG I find AQo and limp, as he is next to act. As expected, he raises. Unexpectedly it is folded back to me. AQo versus his range is WAY ahead. I push. NOT a move I would make against 99% of the people I play.

He thinks for three or four seconds, and calls with TT. The first time he's woken up with a real hand all night. Aaarrghh.

I miss and it's cheerio to another half stack. Fortunately he was on a downswing at this point.

Other than that it was a simple tale of made hands v flush or straight draws that couldn't miss. I must have lost $300+ to people who couldn't fold flush draws for all their chips.

One of the most painful hands came as I felt I was starting to claw my way back a little on Sunday. I find QQ on the button and three limpers, including the cut-off - who has another middling stack.

I put in a stiffer than usual raise to try to thin the field. First limper calls, second folds, and the cut-off reraises for over half his stack - which of course commits us both if I call.

I have a think. With two limpers already I can't see him slow playing a monster. Either he has a middle pair and thinks I'm getting busy with overcards, or he has Ace-big and wants to see five cards.

Either way, I'm well ahead of this range so I push to get rid of the first limper. This works, and the cut-off tables A9o.

Seriously. Ace. Nine. For all his chips pre-flop. Total stupidity. The Ace on the river was as predictable as rain on a Bank Holiday. Another 3/1 shot. Another $100 lost from the bankroll. And so it continues. At least I wasn't 98%/2% on that one!

Now with rampant stupidity abounding, there had to be a hand or two where I actually managed to win some cash. There were. Just not enough of them for my liking.

One that will long live in the memory went as follows. UTG - a tight solid player I generally avoid - opens for 4BB. UTG+1 calls. In UTG+2 I find

and with a full stack I also call. We take a flop with five players still in the hand at an eight handed table.

Obviously I like it, but not as much as I would if it were less co-ordinated.

Checked around to me and I bet just under the pot. Folded back to the SB who check raises all-in for pretty much a min-reraise. It's enough to persuade everyone else to fold.

Of course I insta-call and expect to be shown a draw of some description, or a lesser made hand.

Instead, the SB shows me

wtf!? I urgently scan the board, searching for his outs. Before I can work out that he is drawing only to a runner-runner straight, the cards are dealt and he's gone.

'Misclick?', I ask the table. 'Donk click', comes the reply from another player.

Not that I was complaining. It's hands like this that persuade me the weekend had to be a blip, and I'll be back on track soon. Certainly I hope I can post a decent winning streak prior to Vegas. To pad the bankroll and boost my confidence a little.

Before that, I think I'll take a break for a few days and revert to conquering nations in Civilization IV, and hopefully enjoy some Champions League football, before returning to the poker fray.

A change is as good as a rest, as they say, and I DO need a rest!

Going Down Like Northern Rock

My bankroll is on a steep downwards trajectory this weekend. Down $500 in the space of a couple of hours over two nights.

I seem to be experiencing one of those perfect storms of coolers and outdraws.

The only thing I can be happy with is my tilt control.

Not easy when I manage to flop a full house and lose to a guy on a straight draw!

That's a 98/2 chance for any stats fans out there. Marvellous.

OMG They Killed France

Scotland should play France at football more often...

Last time we beat them, I managed a good night at The Stanley.

Almost a year later (!) we've done it again in even more unlikely circumstances. Unreal.

Meanwhile I was helping myself to a decent return online.

As I've said previously, the national team doesn't really float my boat when it comes to football; but I'm still delighted with that amazing result.

I made one mad Frenchman pretty depressed at the weekend. I suspect millions more will be feeling both madder and more depressed tonight.

L'Etoile

Many have argued the online games have gotten harder since the UIGEA inhibited the supply of fresh fish to the online economy.

As someone who plays primarily on non-US facing sites, I have some sympathy for this argument, but can safely say the marketing efforts of iPoker, 888, etc. are bearing fruit elsewhere.

Even so, it's still a noteworthy event when a single player manages to change the entire complexion of a night at the tables. Such was the case in one of my weekend sessions, in which a single hand dug me out of a gradually deepening hole, courtesy of the table 'star'.

Before getting to this hand, it's worth setting the scene with another spectacular piece of poker which had me salivating at the conclusion.

The table in question had a Commentator. Not a Captain, but a guy who simply had to make some comment, usually puerile and pointless, after EVERY single hand. He bored me into switching off chat within a short period of time.

Meanwhile The Star was going about his business.

French, looser than Britney's knickers - something like 65%/7% on PT - he was merrily accruing chips calling raises with J4s and flopping the flush, etc.

Loose as he was, he actually seemed even MORE keen to get into raised pots. Almost like he knew he was going to outdraw the opponent.

His chip stack grew, and was clearly coveted. Open limping increased, the pots swelled, everyone wanted to see a flop versus this guy. Which made his position directly to my left less problematic.

The salivation began when a raise, and a call from The Star, saw The Commentator shove all-in for 50BB pre-flop. Original raiser folds, and The Star instacalls.

His 64o becomes quad fours by the river. Crushing the Commentators QQ.

I nearly fell of my seat laughing. Composing myself, I switched chat back on to see what The Commentator made of this hand.

Silence. He remained sat out, his stack empty.

I pictured him staring aghast at the monitor, goldfish mouth silently searching for the words to express his outrage. The Star was now triple stacked.

Meanwhile, across four tables, my funds gradually depleted. Until, JJ and first in from mid-position I fire in a standard raise. The Star calls (obviously), SB calls, and the short stacking BB pushes all-in.

Merrily I launch a ridiculous overbet. Sending half my stack to the centre of the table. The Star calls, and SB folds. We are committed.

Not that it matters, but the flop is a pleasing 982 rainbow, and all my chips are in the middle, facing the inevitable call from my French friend, who tables J8s for middle pair and no realistic draw. The BB has TT. Yippee.

The turn is a T. wtf! At least I'm still good for the side pot. The case J on the river is sweet, sweet icing on the cake, and I rake a $273 pot.

What a delicious feeling. I just knew that dotted around the globe, six other players were cursing their luck. Why couldn't I be the one to get into that pot? How could he call with that pre-flop? He's giving away MY money!

I've been there on many occasions. The helpless spectator as my dollars pilfered by some donkalicious muppet are swiftly redistributed to more secure hands.

My sympathy was zero. Screw them, I thought. I deserved that!

Tipping Point

Decided to give the big screen a proper work out, by taking BlondePoker up to eight screens at the smaller table size tonight.

Ergonomically if worked fine, but I just found myself getting a bit overwhelmed by the pace, even after shutting down email, browsers, etc. and focusing on just the tables and some music.

Of course it doesn't help when you run Jacks into Kings blind v button, Tens into Jacks on a 9 high flop, etc. and to cap it all, finally get Aces v Kings, and the loon decides to slow play, and happily waits until the pot odds are perfect for threes-a-crowd Mr QJs to come along for the ride, before finding his reraise button and getting it all in on a nasty flop - which QJs duly hits. Grrrr.

Fortunately, being of a cautious persuasion, I'd dropped down a level and did actually manage to hit a couple of other hands, so the losses were relatively insignificant.

A few of the horror hands were also against shorties, which was a relief.

All the same, I've forgotten the last time I sat down, hit a few hands early, and didn't look back. It's all quite a grind at present. I hope the tide turns soon.

Mood: Improving

Not hungover today. Had more civilised - though almost pointless - conversation with lady from Setanta. Bought almost complete outfit for upcoming wedding of sister-in-law.

One the poker front. Won a little last night, in one of the craziest games I've seen in a long time, and....booked first part of Vegas trip. Staying midweek at MGM Grand. Yes, the same MGM Grand of which All Vegas Poker wrote:

As far as overall poker room quality goes, the MGM easily earns a (5) in my book. In fact, the MGM poker room sets the standard for how a poker room in Vegas should look and feel.

I found a deal on Fat Wallet that looked so good, it just couldn't be true. I showed it to K, who told me I MUST book it.

With great trepidation I filled in my details. Expecting, at every click, some spurious error to impede my reservation. There were none.

For $69 per night, plus taxes, I'm booked into a Grand Tower Room.

Or to put it another way. Three nights, total cost $225. But since the deal also includes $25 bar and restaurant credit, and two free drinks in the West Wing lounge, the effective cost is actually sub-$200.

Insane. I couldn't get a decent B&B in the UK for that price.

For anyone interested, click here to link to the deal.

If I get any more excited, I may need tissues.

Now all I need to do is find somewhere to stay at the weekend, and book flights.

Mood: Pissed Off

Finally got some decent time in at the tables this week, and rapidly wished I hadn't bothered.

It's been a long time since I've played Pot Limit Omaha to any great extent, and having read Rolf Slotboom's book I was interested in trying out some alternative strategies.

Which led me to fire up a couple of small buy-in games to ease me back into the action.

Within a few orbits I find myself UTG with double suited aces. Bingo. The table has already proved to be very LAG with several serial raisers.

Perfect for testing out Rolf's strategy. Albeit I'm bought in for the max, rather than a short stack.

All goes exactly to plan. I call, someone raises, several callers, and one of the serial raisers repots it from the small blind. Absolutely perfect. I manage to ship almost my entire stack in pre-flop.

Only the reraiser calls. With 9 high single suited!! Absolutely bonkers. There might be tournament situation where stack sizes, blinds, etc. make this a valid play, but in reasonably deep stacked cash its suicide.

Of course he makes a straight and stacks me. Looking back I was only 60/40 to win this hand, but if he wants to spend his life getting it all-in as a 6/4 underdog then that's just fine with me.

I can see how Rolf's strategy works - particularly when multi tabling - but it just didn't feel as much fun as playing lots of flops, and I happen to think my edge against donkeys like this is better than 60% so I don't think I'll be following it too closely.

The book is well worth a read though - if only to get inside the head of the short stackers.

I then proceed to lose several more buy-ins with classic Omaha stuff like top FH v flopped quads. Ho hum.

Next night I revert to No Limit Hold Em, and proceed to get queens outflopped by underpairs or suited aces (when I flop top set) three times in ten minutes whilst four tabling. Expensive.

Down a couple of buy-ins I claw it back to one buy-in down as bedtime draws near, and am congratulating myself on my tilt avoidance, when I pick up aces and manage to build a $240 pot and get another idiot all-in on the turn when he re-reraises me with a flush draw and gutshot. I'm roughly 3/1 on this one, until the gutshot hits on the river.

Nothing too statistically abnormal about any of this, but a real blizzard of bad luck. Not good when prepping for a big trip to Vegas.

I'm also having problems outside the poker world. I recently cancelled my Setanta sports subscription, after the mandatory 35 minute navigation of their IVR and queueing system, only to be continually harassed by SMS, emails, letters, chasing me up for a non-existent debt.

The final straw came this morning, when yours truly, nursing a monumental hangover after a big night out, and in the midst of changing a truly horrific dirty nappy, was interrupted by a call from Setanta chasing up this 'debt'.

Many moons ago, before I got into IT, I worked in customer services for a financial services company. My job involved dealing with a lot of problem cases, and I shovelled a lot of other peoples shit while doing my best to resolve customer complaints.

With that experience behind me, as a customer I always try to differentiate between the person I am dealing with and the organisation they represent. In that respect Setanta must rank somewhere alongside the Portuguese police in competence terms. They are an organisational shambles.

However the dude on the phone today was such a prick - wilfully unhelpful, and in complete denial about how they'd cocked it up - that I totally lost it with him, and gave him the full infuriated customer tirade.

Funnily enough he was from a Scottish call centre, so he actually understood everything I was saying to him. A rare occasion where an Indian might have benefited from not having a clue about my accent.

I managed to avoid swearing, or any personal insults, so he had to listen to my complete unabridged opinion on what a woefully inept organisation he works for, before I hung up on him after demanding he escalate the call as a complaint.

I think this one could run and run.

Another Quick Buy-to-Let Thought

My old BTL mortgage (like many) was linked to the LIBOR rate, and updated on a monthly basis.

I'm glad I switch to a fixed rate quite a while back!

Break Out the White Jumpsuit

I've been planning for a while to make it back to Vegas, and now it's pretty much official. Exact venue and travel plans yet to be finalised, but broadly speaking, the second week in October I will be raging (almost) solo in Vegas.

The last trip was a relatively cultured affair - me and K, trips to the Grand Canyon, one of the big Cirque de Soleil shows, lots of open jawed gaping at the sheer indulgence of the big resorts, The Killers at House of Blues, and quite a bit of sun.

We did fit in some gambling and drinking, but not on a truly epic scale.

This time I'm expecting a distinctly more lowbrow affair, albeit there's a few things I'd still like to tick off the Vegas to-do list.

The travel plans are turning into a bit of a gamble in themself.

Usually I aim to have these things fixed up well in advance, but the most direct route - Continental from Glasgow to Newark then onwards to Vegas - shot up in price just as I was planning to book.

Since then I've been tracking all sorts of obscure routings as the prices fluctuated up and down.

Right now I'm focusing in on MyTravel who fly direct from Manchester to Vegas (so no customs or immigration to clear in transit, but a crappy journey to Manchester) and who have been doing insane fly-drive deals. £199 for their most recent departures!

I did say it was an almost solo trip. I've already made plans to meet up with well known LA metrosexual, and man of many blogs, Joe Speaker, over the weekend of the 12th-14th October.

If anyone else is aiming to be in town round about then, don't be a stranger.

I'm regretting not making it for the December meet, especially as it's likely to be on the weekend of the Hatton v Mayweather fight, but work and family commitments mean the schedule doesn't work for me.

I'll sign off for now by inviting anyone reading this to raise a glass to K - the wife - who has sanctioned this trip, and who will be back home looking after the toddler while I'm pickling myself in JD and coke, and attempting to cover my costs at the tables.

I'm pretty sure that wasn't in the job description she signed up for seven years ago - let's hope I don't have to invoke the 'for richer or poorer' clause on my return!

Fear and Loathing In Buy-to-Let

There have been forecasts of a price crash in the UK property market for several years now, with many commentators highlighting the booming, and still immature, buy-to-let market as a potential weak point.

Yet every year, prices have confounded the sceptics, and continued to motor northwards. Making millionaires of some amateur landlords, and confounding the best efforts of the Bank of England Monetary Policy Committee.

Until now.

The odd thing is, while in the past there have been plenty screaming front page headlines predicting a crash that never came; now it appears to be looming over the horizon, there has been little said.

Like trees falling in the forest, if prices fall, and no front page headlines proclaim it, has it really fallen?

I got into the buy-to-let market by default, when I was stiffed by Mark Hubbock on the sale of my flat. As it happens, this turned out to be a well disguised lucky break, as the flat is worth a good few quid more than when the sale fell through.

Given my freelance occupation, having a sideline business makes a lot of sense so I had planned to expand my property empire thereafter.

Eventually I put my efforts on hold. Partly to keep life simple, and partly because it just didn't seem worthwhile.

Every property I looked at was swarming with potential buyers, with deep pockets, or more likely generous lenders, and little self restraint. I couldn't justify the prices they were paying, and bowed out gracefully.

With interest rates rising recently, and ripples in the US sub-prime sector spawning tsunamis across the world financial markets, I've reignited my interest in the sector.

Price falls in the US and Spain seemed to provide a foretaste of what could happen to the UK market.

Not a time when short term speculators are likely to prosper - such as the ones who buy off-plan and attempt to sell on at a profit before the property is even complete - but a definite buying opportunity for those with a longer term perspective.

My attention was taken by a property in one of the swish new developments that are dotted all across Glasgow.

Three bedrooms, decent specification, and available vacant for early entry. So little had it been occupied, the labels applied in the factory were still attached to the doors of the oven in the designer kitchen.

It was at auction with a guide of around £140k, having sold new for £190k+ two years ago. It failed to sell, even when later offered at a fixed price of £125k.

I was gobsmacked. Even more so when the auctioneer claimed it had been sold on previously for almost £240k - though I was unable to find evidence of this transaction.

It looked too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Detective Div got to work, and discovered a tale of woe.

It seems there were problems with security in this development from the outset. Poor design and build of doors, lack of CCTV, etc. which led to break-ins to both apartments and cars.

It is a common - and shameful - theme with developers that they advertise apartments as plush and luxurious, then skimp on the basics to boost their margins a little higher. At the expense, of course, of their customers who by now have handed over the full purchase price.

There had also been conflict between the apartment owners and the factors - the term in Scotland for an organisation who levy a charge on each apartment in return for managing the common areas of the development. Eventually the factors resigned.

Part of the problem was many people failed to pay their factors fees. There was much speculation from live-in residents that these were primarily hard up BTL investors who'd gotten out of their depth, and either couldn't, or wouldn't stump up the cash.

In desperation it seemed many of the buy-to-let brigade were letting out their apartments to inappropriate tenants, and flouting the laws on letting to multiple occupants.

All of which of course made the apartments harder to let to people willing to pay an appropriate level of rent, and almost impossible to sell, leading to plummeting values.

A classic vicious circle, made worse by shortsightedness and ineptitude within the new breed of landlords and rising interest rates.

From £190k+ new, to circa £120k in the space of two years. Now that IS a crash.

There's no doubt in my mind this cannot be an isolated case. Across the UK other BTL landlords must be in a similar predicament, with nervous lenders getting more and more trigger happy as the flight from risk in the money markets seems unlikely to abate for quite a while. It could be a bumper time for auctioneers and bailiffs.

All of which seems to me to present a selective buying opportunity, and I'm now watching the market with great interest.

Even that apartment of doom, with it's £70k of negative equity, is likely to be a winner in the medium to long term.

It's in a bad area, that's slowly coming good. The sort of area a wise investor buys cheap, and holds long term.

If bought now the purchaser will no doubt be profiting from the misfortune of another, but I've never heard a property developer complain prices are too high, so I'll feel no sympathy for someone who got a little too greedy and went bust trying to make a quick buck.

Back In Action

Managed to set aside Civilization IV for a couple of nights to get back in action at the online poker tables.

Remembering I had a few dollars languishing in a Eurobet account (a legacy of the days when Party Poker skins paid rakeback!), I fired up a session and dropped into a couple of very small PLO games. A game I much enjoy but have been neglecting for a long time.

Most players I've read talk of rustiness manifesting itself in terms of decision making, reading of opponents, etc.

My rustiness was a bit more of the buffoonish variety.

On the very first hand, I've posted to play from late position and been dealt a rainbow hand of middling connectors. Something along the lines T975. Not a monster, but definitely playable in Pot Limit Omaha.

I check behind a limper, the BB pots it, limper folds, and my call takes us heads up to a flop which I totally whiff. BB checks, I check behind, and we eventually check our way to a showdown which I win with the idiot end of a runner-runner straight.

Nothing too bad about that, until about three hands later I notice a pot being chopped in circumstances I struggle to comprehend, until I realise I've actually signed into a couple of PLO8B tables.

Doh! Not quite the manner of donking around I had in mind for some Saturday night light entertainment.

Amazingly enough I managed to finish a few dollars ahead, and maintained that form at the iPoker No Limit Hold Em tables tonight, for a fairly satisfactory return to action.

Can't exactly claim to have brought my A-game to either session, but at least I've ended the weekend actually knowing which game I'm playing, which must be progress of a sort.

July Summary

No poker played for approximately ten days caused me to actually miss the month end, and forget about the summary post. Until today.

July was a bit of a rollercoaster. At one point I was sure I was comfortably heading for a +$1000 month, before I ran into a barrage of outdraws.

Some were pretty sore - overpair v overpair on a low flop, where the lesser pair spikes the two outer after all the chips fly in - but strangely, most actually had some sort of method to them, so I couldn't really get upset.

Lots of good, and considered, calls/reraises with the likes of TPTK went down to flush/straight draws that hit after my flop bets got check-raised.

One shouldn't really complain when action is sought and given.

Ultimately I ended the month about $300 to the good and a nice loyalty payment from BlondePoker pushed that up to $450. So, not a great month, but so long as the bankroll moves north, I'll settle for that.

The reasons for lack of poker action are threefold.

I got distracted by the travel plans for the trip to London. On top of that, the new contract necessitates an earlier train to work - so I'm trying to curtail my late night sessions.

The most recent blocker to my poker play is entirely my own fault. I couldn't resist splashing out on a couple of new PC games to see how they looked on the 24" monitor.

Frontline - Field Of Thunder has been a slight disappointment. Not that it's a bad game, but I'd previously been a Sudden Strike addict and I was hoping this would be a step forward from that, but if anything the gameplay is slightly less satisfying to me. Still a decent game.

The real killer has been my first purchase from the Civilization series of games.

I'm well aware I'm way behind the times on this, but Civilization IV must be the crack cocaine of computer gaming. Time just disappears. I had a skim through the voluminous rule book and decided to have a quick play around to familiarise myself with the basics.

Seven hours later (around dawn) I shut down the PC and stumbled bleary eyed to bed.

Just typing these paragraphs has got me itching for my next Civ fix. No more early nights for me!

Trip Report: London Theatreland

No poker this weekend, as I'd whisked K off to London for her 30th birthday treat.

We eschewed the budget airlines and perils of the Stansted or Gatwick Express, or the bus from Luton, in favour of BA flights from Glasgow direct to London City Airport in Docklands.

The early afternoon flight had been subbed out by BA to Titan Airways, and their cosy BAE-146 was only about a quarter full.

The sparsely populated aircraft, and a friendly and attentive crew - complete with requisite attractive blonde stewardess - lent the flight a pleasingly indulgent feel, reminiscent of the 'Catch Me If You Can' era.

It wasn't enough to completely relax K however, and her fingerprints on my tightly squeezed thumb bore witness to a few bumps and jolts as we climbed through the clouds to our cruising altitude.

Dermot Desmond - prime shareholder in Celtic - recently sold London City for about £500 million after buying it for £25 million just a decade previously.

Which bears testimony to the remarkable growth of what is a brilliantly convenient arrival point into London.

Departing from the plane, we boarded a small bus to whisk us the short distance to the arrival hall. There was a very short delay, as a member of the ground crew collected an unaccompanied minor from the plane.

The 'minor' in question was a dusky girl who looked like she had Mediterranean or Middle Eastern roots.

Almost as tall as me, and dressed in designer jeans and tummy skimming top, she ambled across the taxiway, laconically chewing on her gum. Painted nails, makeup, and jewellery completed the image.

Minor and staff member boarded the bus alongside K and I, which gave me the opportunity to do some snooping at the clipboard clasped by the ground crew.

I mentally shuddered, and filed the info away for later discussion, as we were rapidly deposited at the arrivals hall. Our bags already waiting on the belt.

A 200 yard walk took us to the Docklands Light Railway station, located within the airport grounds, where a £4 ticket was enough to transport us into the centre of London, and onwards on the tube system.

Having left Glasgow at 12.30pm, we were checked into our hotel near Tottenham Court Road, by 3.00pm.

As the DLR train clunked it's way through the East End - taking us past the Millennium Dome (now renamed the O2 Dome) - my thoughts strayed to one of my favourite movies, The Long Good Friday, and I wondered what Harold Shand would make of the new landscape of Docklands. It probably matches his vision rather well.

I quizzed K about the unaccompanied minor. What age did she reckon she had been? 'Sixteen?', speculated K. My own guess had been fourteen. The clipboard told a different story. Twelve!

Is it really only ten years until we can 'look forward' to the you're not wearing that/going there/staying out that late type debates that the outward persona of our fellow traveller hinted at? My mind is still boggling!

We spent the remainder of Friday and most of Saturday pottering around the sights, shops, and bars of Soho and Covent Garden. Doing the usual touristy stuff.

The 'main event' of the weekend was K's choice of Joseph and The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, starring reality TV show winner Lee Mead.

Two good seats having been procured as a side benefit of booking flights with BA, we found ourselves sitting behind a couple who appeared to be the proud parents of one of the kid's chorus, judging by their frenzied waving prior to curtain up.

She was glamorously dressed and had hair somewhat bigger than that you wish to be seated behind in an old fashioned theatre, but I was willing to forgive her that, given the obvious excitement and pride she was emanating.

He was a sort of cross between Pierce Brosnan and Frankie Dettori. I could see how they ended up with a kid on the stage!

I'm not so passionate as K about musicals, but I was converted by a previous trip to see Chicago at the same theatre, and generally enjoy them.

My mindset is more from the 'here we are now entertain us' school of audience participation, but I have to say I was blown away by the first half of the show. K agreed the second half dragged slightly, and the ensemble numbers could have done with some tighter editing, but on the whole it really was an amazing show.

Of course it always helps when there's some eye candy on display, and while K was ooohing over the loin cloth clad Lee (a man who has definitely been on the protein shakes recently) I was admiring the female narrator, whose stunning voice was matched by her looks. Happy days.

Afterwards we retired to the Nelly Gwynne pub directly next door to the theatre. Football on the TV, a brilliant heavily early 90's oriented jukebox, friendly bar staff, and reasonably priced (by London standards) booze, made for a great way to round off the night. So we stayed for quite a while.

The pub is under threat from property developers. Sign up to Save The Nell. Even if the steps to the cellar toilet are a challenge of Everest proportions after a few pints.

Role reversal moment of the weekend. Me enthusing about musicals. K avidly watching the darts on TV. That's what drink does to you!

Sunday was very much a lazy day, which ended with return flights from City Airport - a flight option I'd definitely recommend for visiting London. The only blot on their copybook being a scandalous £3.80 charge for a pint of Becks.

The last time I paid a comparable price for a drink, an extra £20 was enough to persuade an Eastern European Cameron Diaz (circa Something About Mary) lookalike to gyrate her scantily clad body within inches of my nose. No such services are on offer at LCY.

The flight back was busier, yet still only about 65% full I'd reckon. The check-in staff obviously had a sense of humour - depositing us in a full row with a third person, while the row two behind remained empty. Grrr.

All in all, a very nice weekend, made all the merrier by the absence of a toddler to drag us from our bed at an ungodly hour.

By Sunday evening we were both eagerly anticipating seeing her, and were greeted by a joyous explosion of bouncing, smiling and waving, as we made our way up the path to the house. All of which abated within a few minutes, as a comforting normality was resumed and a return to early mornings and work beckoned.

The Farce Of The UIGEA

Swaggart has been caught with his trousers round his knees
After damning me and you to hell for eternity
Sex and power and money is the prayer of these priests
They bribe their way past heaven's gates and steal a set of keys

               - James, God Only Knows

For reasons soon to become clear, I've been rejigging my poker finances.

Until now, my bankroll has resided solely in Neteller, and been swapped between sites as necessary. With a US dollar Neteller account, and playing on sites where the games are US dollar based, I've built my bankroll up as a separate entity from the remainder of my finances.

Thus I've avoided any sort of foreign exchange conversion losses, which can be an additional layer of rake for UK or European players who routinely swap between dollars and their home currency.

Good for bankroll management, good for discipline, but not much use if I want to utilise the money for any other purposes.

So, with an impending need to temporarily withdraw a chunk of the cash, I was looking for options.

After some Googling, a Citibank US Dollar Current Account seemed just the ticket.

I could send some of my Neteller cash to this account, and have fee free access to it by US Dollar cheque and debit card. Excellent!

Being naturally cautious in financial matters, I thought it best to drop Neteller an email to make sure this would be OK. Their response in full...

"Thank you for you E-mail. We continue to encounter difficulties if processing funds in US dollars, we would strongly advise not to use a Citibank US dollar bank account to deposit or withdraw as there is a high possibility we may encounter difficulties in processing the funds appropriately."

So lets clarify this situation...

- I'm a UK citizen
- with money held by a company based in Europe and quoted on the UK stock exchange
- mostly playing poker on the UK skins of networks who don't accept US players
- wishing to transfer my winnings to the UK branch of a US institution (new business)
- so that I can spend some of the money on a trip to the US (more business for the US)

Yet it seems the UIGEA prevents me doing so.

Or does it? Well, it seems not.

One of the sites I play on allows fee free withdrawals direct to a nominated bank account, and they reckon it's doable.

If it's that easy for me, how difficult is it going to be for any of these mythical drug dealers and terrorists who are allegedly laundering their cash via the online poker world?

All of which makes me wonder what the point of this whole debacle is, other than to enable a few self serving, duplicitous, snakes-in-the-grass, to slither a little closer to the summit of Capitol Hill.

Respect The Overlay

A quick bit of pimpage. For a while the buzz in the UK poker world was the big overlays Mansion were offering on their $100k guarantee.

Now that tournament is deceased, another $100k guarantee with a juicy overlay is very welcome.

The Everest Sunday tourney at 16:30GMT is averaging an overlay of about $20k at present.

Not to be sniffed at for a $100+9 direct buy-in, or satellites from $11+1.

Random Saturday Night Thoughts

JK Rowling should write more Harry Potter books.

K and I made a deal this week that she would do one of my housekeeping jobs, and in return I'd take care of E all Saturday. Thus enabling her to immerse herself in the final tome.

The result, I had a great time chasing the toddler around the local soft play area for most of the morning. Energy expended, she slept for hours this afternoon, and with K still ploughing her way through the book, I was free to hit the cash games for a few hours - and win. Everyone's happy! Thanks JK.

Thank the lord for Penelope and Monica Cruz!

I saw Mean Girls for the first time recently. Surprisingly funny it was too - until the wheels came off in the last 20 minutes as it descended into a schmaltz fest.

Previously I'd only actually known Lindsay Lohan for being a drunken cokehead, so it was interesting to see she actually has talent.

As a thirty six year old guy, there is a certain uneasiness that comes from watching a movie set in a school and thinking damn those girls look good. Mind you, Lindsay is seeing Calum Best so she obviously has an affinity for dodgy guys. So no harm done.

It's nice to have some more mature figures to populate my lustful imagination with. To quote from the article I linked to - 'together they have a combined sexual voltage that could overload the national grid'. Yes indeed - and to make things even better, Penelope is making a movie with Scarlett Johansson. Yum, yum!

Div kills two birds with one stone!

UK energy policy is a bit of a mess at present. The highest profile problem is environmental. I could write a whole post about issues of security of supply, but for now let's stick to the headline issue.

Another problem we have relates to law and order. The prisons are full. The authorities are releasing cons prematurely because there's nowhere to keep them.

Community service doesn't work. There's talk of bringing back a form of hard labour.

Fret no more politicians, for I have the answer. Giant hamster wheels. Let's get them hooked up to generators, and get those cons jogging.

Send them home at night too shattered for any nocturnal thieving, but let's not train them to sprint too fast.

WSOP Live Streaming For Nowt

No idea how this works, but it does...

http://www.channelsurfing.net/watch-wsop.html

Quelle Suprise!

So Glasgow Rangers are under investigation for corruption.

You'd expect this will come as an embarrassment to them, but it's hard to spot a red-neck through a sunbed tan. Just ask Tommy Sheridan about that!

Most will assume this has to do with dodgy transfers, but maybe it's internal affairs catching up with Andy Davis at last.

Torrid!

What a week. The variance monster has been in full effect and the bankroll stats have been up and down like a whore's knickers.

The iPoker no limit games can be a pretty wild place to reside.

I met a new favourite maniac on Saturday - 87%/65% at a $100 table. At one point he'd quadrupled through and the waiting list grew. When he eventually sat out at just above even, three players left the table.

One downside of multi-tabling iPoker is the relatively short decision time can make things a bit rushed when there are odd betting patterns to be evaluated.

That said, when someone limps KK and your 77 finds a K7x flop with two diamonds, it's bye-bye stack time no matter how much time there is to think. With these players anyway.

It's been interesting experimenting with different strategies.

I forced myself to play four tables tonight in a very passive pre-flop mode - the exact opposite of my usual cash game style - and got paid a few times when I hit.

I also had to throw away a few big pairs on distinctly unfavourable flops, but it's all good learning experience.

Always nice to have more than one string to the bow, as the saying goes.

Comedy iPoker - A Lesson Applied Well

Here is a funny hand from a recent session. At first it might seem I played it terribly post-flop, but there was method to my madness....

Seat 1: Iceage12122 ($89.85 in chips)
Seat 2: jimboyo ($20.81 in chips)
Seat 4: snipxx ($162.65 in chips)
Seat 5: sigge79 ($138.03 in chips)
Seat 6: VILLAIN ($142.58 in chips)
Seat 7: FRIDENISFRI ($49.40 in chips) DEALER
Seat 9: HERO ($95.00 in chips)
Seat 10: oakesee ($98.70 in chips)
HERO: Post SB $0.50
oakesee: Post BB $1.00
*** HOLE CARDS ***
Dealt to HERO

Iceage12122: Fold
jimboyo: Call $1.00
snipxx: Call $1.00
sigge79: Raise $4.00
VILLAIN: Call $4.00
FRIDENISFRI: Fold
HERO: Raise $20.00
oakesee: Fold
jimboyo: Fold
snipxx: Fold
sigge79: Fold
VILLAIN: Call $16.50
*** FLOP ***

HERO: Check
VILLAIN: Check
*** TURN ***

HERO: Check
VILLAIN: Check
*** RIVER ***

HERO: Check
VILLAIN: Check
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot $45.60 Rake $2.40
VILLAIN shows

VILLAIN: wins $45.60

The Villain is an ex-Tribeca player I've spent many hours at the table with. He's not the worst I've ever seen, but he does struggle to put down any sort of half decent hand.

The raise from the other player pre-flop looked suspiciously small, and I didn't want to play an out-of-position pot against four or five players, so I re-popped it more than usual, hoping the other guy had KK or QQ and would move in on my apparent AK.

I was somewhat surprised when everyone folded to the Villain who took an eternity to call. Based on our previous history, I immediately put him on an upper middling pair.

When he called, if I had to stake my life on it, I'd have said he had Jacks. AA/KK/AK and probably QQ I reckon he reraises. Middle pairs down he folds. He's not the sort of loon who turns up with KQo in these situations.

All said, it's not a bad spot to get over 1/5 of my chips in pre-flop. Until the damn flop comes J high. I actually swore out loud at this point.

Any meaningfully sized bet from me here pretty much pot commits me, so checking seems the lesser of two evils.

When he checks behind and the turn brings the Q I mentally give it up, as I am convinced he has either a set or an open ended straight draw and there's no way of telling which.

The river is a laugh out loud moment. By now I'm sure he must be seriously considering I've got AK, which would mean I've backdoored my way to the nuts against what I am absolutely convinced is a set.

The thought of representing AK does cross my mind. But recall my earlier words - 'he does struggle to put down any sort of half decent hand'.

Is he 'good' enough to fold a set here? No. Is he cautious enough to take a free showdown? Yes.

In retrospect a flop bet might have taken down the pot, or at least scrambled the RNG enough to bring about a different card sequence, but based on my read I'm not unhappy with how I played it. Especially resisting the temptation to bet my 'straight' into an unfoldable set on the river.

We Interrupt This Transmission

So I found a clever person who hacked the new upgraded Blogger templates, so that I can have my favoured three column layout.

Which is good - because I can use Blogger widgets now.

Which is bad - because I need to rebuild a lot of the template content.

Expect a period of change with some scrambled layouts and unsual fonts...

Thin Line Between Love and Hate

Donkeys. Muppets. Morons. Fish.

Call them what you will. We should love them but sometimes, despite our better judgement, we just can't help but hate them.

Last night I lost some of the most ridiculous hands. I got kings, and lost; queens, and lost; kings (again), and lost.

Every time, I raised pre-flop. Every time, I bet the flop. Every time, I got sucked out on.

Donkeys. Muppets. Morons. Fish. I LOVE them!!

Two hours, $448 profit. Despite all of the above, the Poker Tracker stats stayed green, as a succession of imbeciles queued up to donate to the Div Vegas Fund.

I'm torn to pick a favourite hand of the night between the guy who decided to call a pre-flop raise with 97 and bet every street from a 755 flop - moving all-in on the river - when I was holding 55 (Quads bitches!), and the guy who played K3 on a KK2 flop like it was the mortal nuts. I had 22.

One of those nights when poker really is as much fun as it should always be.

June Summary

I had good intentions of writing a detailed summary for June, but alas time is against me so I'll stick to the basics.

I took a bit of a kicking on PokerStars in June, despite having a few big winning sessions. These were balanced out by some equally big losing sessions, and some losses at the more 'recreational' Razz and HORSE tables.

Fortunately iPoker came to my rescue towards the end of the month and I managed to notch up a couple of hundred profit for the month.

There are still people playing $100 buy-in tables on iPoker with stats like 85%/20%.

It boggles the mind! Just be prepared to occasionally get stacked by some *sick* outdraws. It's +EV in the long term.

If you want to play on iPoker, there's no better place than BlondePoker - with their (ahem) 30% loyalty scheme paid monthly into your account.

I managed to get some good time in at the gym during my holiday then gave up all the good work as soon as I started my new job - which necessitates a slightly earlier start in the morning.

Resolution for July - work out a more productive timetable for my non-working hours...

Gerritrightupye Osama

"What's the score? I've got to get this sorted." - John Smeaton

I saw this guy on the news, and thought 'what a character'. It seems others were thinking the same.

Get over to the website and buy Glasgow's answer to Jack Bauer a pint.

Al Qaeda Amateur Hour

When I was a lad my mum would often caution me as I left the house. 'Be careful crossing the road', she'd tell me.

Wise words when spoken to an eight year old. Twenty eight years later, it gets a bit wearing when I hear those words as I depart from a visit to the parents.

This thought crossed my mind amidst the blanket coverage of the terrorist attack on Glasgow Airport, which follows close on the heels of an abortive attempt to attack the theatre district of London.

By coincidence later this month I'll be flying from Glasgow Airport with K, on a trip to...the theatre district of London. It's K's thirtieth birthday in July, and her treat is a trip to see the new version of 'Joseph'.

Our hotel is located under half a mile from the site of the intended bomb blast.

Has the events of the last few days put me off? Of course not! The only negative thought that crossed my mind has been that I might have got a better deal on the hotel if I'd booked later.

The fact is the people who stage these attacks are remorseless maniacs but also severely lacking in competence.

No doubt eventually they will get lucky and stage a more devastating attack in terms of loss of life and property destroyed. For now, the reality is we are dealing with an enemy so useless, their suicide bombers cannot even kill themselves, let alone anyone else.

Frankly they'd be a lot more dangerous if they gave up on trying to blow themselves up, and simply drove a 4x4 vehicle at high speed through the pedestrianised shopping areas of Glasgow on a Saturday afternoon.

With that in mind, I despair of the sanctimonious nonsense spouted by some people in reaction to yesterday's attack.

Terrorists thrive not only on actual damage inflicted, but on spreading fear of further attacks.

With that in mind, there's no more effective way of combating them than getting on with your business as usual.

Not ignoring them; but not letting them rule our lives either.

One of the natural reactions on some of the forums I frequent was to mock the ineptitude of the attacks. That was certainly my reaction.

Some berated that reaction on the grounds of what might have happened. People *could* have been killed or injured. Yes, but they weren't. It really is a load of sanctimonious nonsense to pretend otherwise.

If we live our lives by those rules, we might as well all become agoraphobic and lock ourselves in the cellar. At which point the terrorists have won.

Fortunately most people are more sensible than the panic merchants who promote this sort of thinking.

Reacting with humour and a degree of scepticism is the right approach, and it's one the terrorists will find extremely difficult to overcome.

$391

Biggest ever pot I've won!

A modest achievement but one to send me off to bed in a happy mood.

I made my first foray into the $1/2 NLHE game on Prima tonight. Something I've been geeing myself up to do for months.

On my first table I find myself immediately to the left of a big stack LAGtard who is playing lots of pots and bullying a lot. Slightly scary, but tempting too.

Within about three hands I think, give me a hand and this guy will double me up. Five hands later, lovely aces, but unfortunately OOP in the small blind.

Folded around to the LAGtard who makes it $7 to play. Normally I'd be tempted to slow play here, but I figured if he had any sort of hand there was a good chance he'd move in on me if I play back at him. I reraise big, and.....he flat calls.

Which brings us to an Ace high, uncoordinated flop. Bingo bango bongo!

Check-check (Obviously)

Lots of action on the turn, all-in on non-threatening river, and he mucks. Which on Prima is a genuine muck, as opposed to a check the hand history to find out what he had muck. I'm guessing the turn gave him a flush draw to go with top pair.

If only poker was always so simple.

Seventeen!

Funny how some posts resonate for unexpected reasons. Kent's recent mention of AJ's academic achievements caught my eye.

K was off on a girlie overnighter leaving me in full control of home and toddler for the weekend.

By this afternoon, a tidy up was in order. A swift clearance of the lounge produced, among other things, a pile of books.

'That's a bloody big pile', I thought. 'Wonder how many there are?'

SEVENTEEN books on the lounge floor! Which made a hell of a mess, but I'm telling myself counts as good parenting.

Now if only we could persuade her to stop tearing the covers off them...

I Should Be Relaxing

Anyone looking at my results spreadsheet tonight might be surprised to know how happy I am with the poker play I've had this month. The statistics make grim reading, but tell only half the story...

I had great fun playing 'recreational' poker on holiday. Since I was on the laptop, I stuck to single tabling a mix of HORSE and Razz games on Stars.

The results were mediocre, but the fun element was high and I was always within hailing distance of the hotel bars so no pain was felt.

I also took the chance to experiment a bit with my game, and on a few occasions paid off on sixth and seventh when I knew I was beat, just to see what starting cards people would pay three or four bets on third street with.

I wasn't taking the results seriously at all - which is just as well as I was playing in a public place, and my usual Hellmuthian rants may not have gone down too well with the hotel management - but it was nice to stretch my brain with some mixed games.

Back home now, and I've been multi tabling on the Stars NLHE tables with results that at first glance seem bad, but not catastrophic, but which to me feel atrocious.

There's been the usual bad beats and good beats, but what's paining me is the number of times I've run into pretty much unavoidable situations that have turned potential profit into irritating losses. To whit, may I present a few examples from tonight's session alone...

KK into AA twice

JJ v QQ on a T-high flop versus a guy my notes say is a horrible Ace chaser. Oddly enough he actually took longer to call my final raise with QQ than he probably would have with AK.

Defending my blind with K9s I flop top pair and the second nut flush draw. Only to find myself up against AJs with the nut flush draw. Which hits.

J high flush v Q high flush against another guy who my notes say plays No Fold Em Hold Em. (I had two pair which became a flush by the river, he had a flush draw)

Despite it all, I'm enjoying the game right now. Not so much for the results (obviously) but for the way I'm thinking about situations, and my tilt free reaction to the various setbacks I've encountered.

It's the old reprise about being decision not results oriented. Keep making good ones and the tide must surely turn. I just hope it's soon. Back to work in 12 days...

May Summary

Brought to you courtesy of wifi access in a Scottish country hotel. How times change!

No access to the specific numbers. But in May I played a little, won a little.

I'm a little disappointed with my current win rate, but a win is a win nonetheless.

I suspect it's a bit to do with not being on top of my game at present, and a bit to do with not hitting many blockbuster hands.

Still, I'd rather be complaining about a low win rate than a high loss rate, so let's envision the cup as half full for now...

Leisure

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It's been ten days since my last post.

Ten days! Where did the time go? (Little Me Too! reference there for the fellow parents)

Well ironically enough I've been busier than usual at work, due to some impending leisure time. I rejected an option to renew my current contract, which meant it expired at the end of May.

Cue a period of frantic activity, wrapping up loose ends and doing a handover of my activities to some guys based in a different part of the UK.

I wasn't totally desperate to get out of the job, and I liked my workmates, but when someone else offers a rate rise equivalent to the annual mortgage payment, it's pretty much a no-brainer. The life of the contractor.

I've got a few weeks before the new contract starts, which incorporates a pre-planned holiday to the Scottish Highlands with wife and child.

Neither K nor I is keen on taking E on any long trips, particularly not flights, so a few hours in the family car suits us fine.

This prospect of this sort of trip was one of the reasons we went for a big diesel car. We've booked some time at two 'family friendly' hotels, and I'm praying the weather cooperates.

In the meantime, I've got a few free days. Day one of which I spent stripping down a silicone coated bath, tiling, and filling and sealing a damp affected floor.

The tenant in the flat I let out in Glasgow is on holiday for a week, so I'm taking the chance to do some repairs to the property.

Consequently I actually got home later today than I would if I'd been at my 'proper' job.

Not that I minded. It's good to escape from the office PC for a while, and I do enjoy the occasional opportunity to do some physical work. A change is as good as a rest, as the saying goes.

The plan is to finish the job tomorrow in time for her return from holiday.

On the property theme, I caught a little bit on TV tonight about the Spanish property crash. This seems to have particularly hit the holiday village type developments, frequented by Brits and other northern Europeans.

No doubt there are some aspects of the Spanish property system that are open to criticism. The experience of one couple under the Spanish 'land grab' rules was genuinely terrible.

What gets me is the sympathetic treatment handed out by the media to people who are effectively failed business people. One couple had bought two off-plan properties on the same development, planning to sell one on at a profit pre-completion, to fund the purchase of the other.

When the market tanked, they were in the mire. Such is life!

Yet they get TV time and a virtual hug over their predicament. Why!?

They borrowed to invest; invested unwisely; and lost. Maybe they were unlucky, maybe they didn't do enough research, or maybe they just got $$ signs in their eyes and plunged in without a second thought.

The British attitude to property is a peculiar thing. So many seem to see it as a cure for all ills.

Often there seems an expectation that bricks and mortar are a magical financial instrument, offering reward for no risk. The reality is, where there is potential reward, there must be a risk of some type.

If people can't understand this, they shouldn't be trusted with credit. The lack of self awareness is truly staggering. One can't help but wonder how some of these people managed to raise the deposits on their purchases.

Probable answer - remortgaging their home in the UK!