The Hermit Poet

I admit, I’m a Scrabble fanatic.  I’m not quite at the tournament level.  I don’t play for money.  But I do play a mean game and usually find it hard to find a good match.

When I headed back to Penticton yesterday, it was in theory to spend this weekend visiting my father in the hospital and to help my mother out around the house.   In actuality, I wanted to arrive early and fit in a couple games with my Uncle Neil and his partner Ruth, who evidently cleaned house in the Scrabble matches that happened between them, my mother, and my Aunt Peggy, while I was away.

Now you should realize that my Uncle Neil is a used book dealer and a writer.  Ruth is an accomplished poet and artist.  The two of them play Scrabble on a regular basis and are quite skilled as players.  They’re well-read, intelligent, and talented people with a great gift for language and games.

So I was quite happy last night to trounce them in two consecutive games.  I won the first game by a 30 point margin with no bingos (7-letter words) and despite not drawing any letters worth more than 4 points.  The second game I won by a handy 70 point margin, scoring 196 in a four person game.

Hmm… I’m itching for another game already.