Rusty bridge

After playing bridge in the flesh every week for a year or so, as well as online almost every day, trips and other people conspired to put the weekly games on seven-week hiatus, at just the same time that I got bored by the online game. The result at last night's game might have been more obvious to myself than to others, although (skillful new guy) Adam noticed when I foolishly trumped low during my one stint as declarer.

It feels as though I've been keeping all my bridge skill in short-term memory, where it was readily accessible as long as I was playing frequently, but after weeks off, it's decidedly no longer at my fingertips. Adam, who hadn't played in a couple of years, seemed to have much better access to his brain's bridge archive. Perhaps his is in a different type of memory; or, more likely, he's just sharp.

Nils won the evening's prize for point winner: a copy of Louis H. Watson's classic book on the Play of the Hand at Bridge.