It’s very, very annoying when you think you’ve got half your blog written but it’s in your head, with not a note on paper and come the big moment, computer all fired up, you haven’t a clue what you wanted to go on about.  Hey ho, it’s just like going up the stairs for something and going back down again empty handed because you’ve forgotten the point of your errand.  No panic, just normal service nowadays.

What a plonker, what a numpty, what an eejit.  On the radio they said that the first two words are on their way out of circulation because only a few of us oldies have any idea what they mean.  They mentioned other words, including bampot and I knew what all of them meant, more or less.  According to my Auld Scots Words tea towel, they’re all a bit suspect in these politically correct days, though it would be nice to think that we’re a bit kinder; nice but unlikely.

Bampot: insane person, nutter.  Numpty: idiot, intellectually challenged. Oops.

There’s no hiding away from the fact that I am an eejit and a clumsy one at that.  A few days ago I went to the local tip, one of the most disgraceful and antiquated in the area – you still have to lug stuff up ramps to chuck it in the skips, old school in the extreme.  There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of new houses being built around Lichfield and the infrastructure is struggling to keep pace.

Usually I go somewhere else to dump my big rubbish, ever since packing my soil and rubble into bags small enough for me to carry without knackering my back and was told at Lichfield’s refuse centre that it was £3 a bag!!!  “I don’t think so,” sez I and drove off and took my soil and rubble elsewhere.

Anyway, this time there wasn’t much to ditch, a few bits of wood and assorted odds and sods from my bathroom revamp, so off to Lichfield I go. Park the car, take the little bits of wood out of the boot, in my left hand, car key in my right hand, up the ramp, big swing to my left, so my right hand comes round and as I launch the wood into the air, the string I’ve got my car key on gets caught up on the end of a bit of wood and goes sailing in to the skip…Aaaagh

The key, inevitably, finds the gaps and ends up right at the bottom of the skip, well out of reach.  It’s only because I can spot the string that I know where it is.  I call for help and two stoic guys, who’ve seen it all before, eventually fish the key out, with the help of a gizmo of their own and my extendable doofer for fishing golf balls out of water hazards – or whatever they’re called these days; penalty areas I’m told.  Phew.  I thought I might have to find a ladder and launch myself over the edge.

This doesn’t do the technicalities and the fiddling justice but the car key was retrieved…Thank you to the gentlemen of Lichfield tip.

Earlier this year a Swedish friend who lives in Helsinki asked me if I could recommend some good British thriller writers, so I consulted the oracle, who came back with Peter James and T.M. Logan.  That was just a start but it proved a good one.  My Finnish Swede is now hooked and has roped in a friend, who’s become an addict too.  They listen on walks and doing the chores, though I’m not sure I’d be listening to crime novels on long country treks – far too scary, a bit like watching horror movies at home on your own.  Not for me.

Still, wimp though I am, I’ve taken up my Swede’s recommendation and ordered the first of Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Department Q novels from Waterstones.  He’s a Danish author and neither I nor the bloke at the book shop had heard of him before but when ‘mercy’ arrived, the cover boasted that there’d been “over 10 million books sold”.  Wow.  It’s Nordic Noir but I’m hoping it’s not too dark for me to cope with…

Where better to start a new book than in sight of the Samuel Johnson Birthplace Museum and Bookshop (cream building on the corner).

Some golf to finish, starting with a couple of winners on the men’s European/DP World Tour.  Many congrats to them and I’ll leave it to you to decide if their silk creations outshine the green jacket of Augusta…

Adrian Otaegui, of Spain, winner of the Volvo China Open, resplendent in the champion’s golden jacket [Lintao Zhang/Getty Images]

But, there’s surely no doubt about the most spectacular golfing garment ever, modelled with delight and panache by Yuto Katsuragawa of Japan, after winning the ISPS Handa Championship in spectacular style with rounds of 70, 65, 65 and 63.  It was his first European title and he’ll find it hard to beat, what with the euphoria, the helmet, the robe and Mount Fuji as the backdrop.  Who could ask for more? (There was a cheque for 356,625 Euro too.)

Yuto celebrating his maiden win, at Taiheiyo Club Gotemba Course. [Yong Teck Lim/Getty Images]

Finally, Nelly Korda is the star of the show at the Cognizant Founders Cup at Upper Montclair Country Club, New Jersey, this week as she aims for her sixth win in a row, which would be a record.  She took a few days off to recharge her batteries, enjoy a bit of r and r and change out of her golf gear for the Met Gala, the annual celebrity fashion fest benefiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Nelly in a gown by Oscar de la Renta, looking awesome but confessing to feeling awestruck. [Not sure who took the pic but it’s on and elsewhere]

Go Nelly.