An amazing, rather difficult one-point win available here (found courtesy of Quackle, which has just played KUE):

Andrew Fisher: Turn 10
   A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O      Q                        EIIINPR   443 
   ------------------------------  -> Andrew Fisher            ILMRTUY   419 
 1|= L   '       =       '     =| --Tracking-----------------------------------
 2|  A   V   "       "       -  | EIIINPR  7
 3|  T - A     ' C '       -    |
 4|' E   R       A G   E R U V '|
 5|  R   I N e R M O U S        |
 6|F A   T E X   E A "     O H  |
 7|A D ' Y     ' O F       S I K|
 8|N     P     Q I S     ' T   U|
 9|T   ' E     ' N '   J   E   E|
10|E "       Z I G   C A B O B  |
11|E   H O L O N       D   I    |
12|G L O W     g O A T E E D   '|
13|  A W N     '   '   D   S    |
14|  -       "       "       -  |
15|=     '       =       '     =|
   ------------------------------

I'll probably post the answer in a comment at some stage.

Warrington Scrabble Club is probably one of the strongest in north-west England, but is tucked away in the obscurity of a third floor meeting room accessed through the dimly-lit back door of a Methodist church…I followed the sound of rattling tiles to reach it. When I visited last night Wayne Kelly, Robert Richland, Ken Heaton and others were present (total about 14). I happened to play Wayne in the first game, and while I got a good start, responding to his MEANING with ROSACEA and then immediately UNIRONIC, he had his own bingo pair on moves 4/5 and I was never able to catch up. A speculative further bingo attempt on his part (falsely hooking S to EATH) came off, allowing me to restrict the losing deficit to about 15.

The tiles flowed much better against Jill Bright, earning me a 500 with nothing flashy, but stuttered as I took on Kathy Suddick. Happily her phonies gave me sufficient breathing space to win (BALLSED* actually seemed pretty reasonable).

My last was against old friend Ken, who has had a long sabbatical but is getting himself back into tournament mode. I used to play him a lot, as we were clubmates for many years; he is strong but rather rusty, and a high-scoring EXHEDRAE on my part did enough damage.

Probably heading to Manchester over the weekend with my reprobate friends, then the trek back to Melbourne on Monday.

Spending some 'quality time' with mum and dad for a week. Mum has been diagnosed with myelomas along the spine and in the bone marrow, and is currently weighing up whether to take the radiotherapy course that might, at some cost and risk, arrest their progress. Today we decided to take a trip to Blackpool to dispose of great-aunt Connie's ashes - she died a while back, but they had been saving them up for the jaunt to the seaside (I barely knew Connie, having met her only once or twice; she was the daughter of Mathew Johnston FZS, elephant trainer and one-time general manager of Blackpool Tower Zoo, possibly my most colourful antecedent).

Blackpool is a run-down dump in which tacky, cheapskate trinket shops and fast food joints pullulate (inhabited by the obese and the tattooed, by thin-faced smokers and no-hopers, by forlorn fun-seekers and the terminally idle), and the gloomy weather did nothing to enliven it. Firstly we visited Mathew's graveside, scattering a jamjar of ashes by the stone, and then moved on to the Promenade in order to execute Connie's wish that her remains be left in sight of the Tower. We entered the North Pier and walked out over the wooden boards to the end, the Tower looming on the horizon, flinging the ashes out just as the wind blew up; it took them out to sea in a long white cloud before they gradually settled on the water and sank beneath the waves.

Also caught up with a couple of old friends, whom it has been a pleasure to see. I seem to act differently with them, much more involved, confident and voluble through years of familiarity, than I would be with everyday acquaintances (where I tend to be too passive and reactive). One had a stint in prison after a dalliance with some dangerous explosives which caused part of a local town to be evacuated, the other is running a car yard that was purchased with the aid of a large win on the horses. All being well I will see them again at the weekend.

A quick visit to the UK to pay a visit to mum and dad. No scrabble is anticipated, except that I might visit Warrington club on Thursday to get a game with the current national champion and his cohorts. Flying with Southern China Airlines, the first leg from Melbourne to Guangzhou was rendered less pleasant by the lack of personalised TV screens (instead there were a couple suspended above the central aisle for all to tune into, showing an adequate Richard Gere flick called The Double, then a bizarre documentary about Malory’s writing of the Arthur legend, then some Chinese pop, and then we luckily got a second chance to watch The Double). The poor chap next to me had no reading matter and was not in the mood for TV, so was tearing his hear out in frustrated ennui by the time we hit the ground. As for me, while keeping half an eye on the screen I got through three Spectator crosswords that I had saved up, plus the latest Julian Barnes, while listening to Eurovision 2012 tracks (there are only a handful of good ones this year, and several complete duffers). Then a long bus ride with barbed-wire fences all around, negotiating at one stage a flooded road with a gang of knee-deep Chinese navvies vainly stemming the flow from a drainage pipe, and a lengthy wait for my connection to Amsterdam. Menu choices in the café included roast goose and spicy pig’s trotter, but I tried a noodle soup which was heavy on the baby octopus.

The leg to Amsterdam had better amenities, and then finally I was in the air on the way to Manchester. We followed the coast for a while, and I admired some banks of wind turbines out to sea, tiny pleasure boats leaving wakes between them, until later we overflew the beautiful grassy greenth of north-east Cheshire in which nestles Manchester Airport.

Played the round of sixteen in this year’s Victorian Matchplay Knockout last night, against Barry Harridge. We were at South Oakleigh club, in a sports bar frequented by foul-mouthed young ladies evading the foul weather and taking solace in a beer.

The first game flowed nicely, with the early RERENTED and TARAIRES reflecting my easy tiles. After colonising a Z-spot towards the end and leaving CISTT, my pickup of PY delivered a slightly flashier STYPTIC for 105 which locked in the win. Game two saw an early blunder on my part after I accepted Barry’s SWEERER*, which turns out to be no good; SWEER and SWEIR are both adjectives, but only one of them compares. I have a nasty feeling of déjà vu about this word, so I’d better eradicate it from my brain somehow. Anyway, his MISSENT a couple of turns later put me over 100 behind, and after I had drawn into RIANCIES his TOTALLED left me contemplating a 120-point deficit. I pulled back a little as Barry tried to block the board, facing this with four in the bag:

   A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O   -> Andrew Fisher   AHNOPTX   305 
   ------------------------------     Barry Harridge  ???????   381 
 1|=     '       =       '     =|     Tracking      ?AEEEGIILOO  11
 2|  -   T   "     G J U     -  | 
 3|    N O V U M   '   R O O    |
 4|'     T   R I A N C I E S   '|
 5|      A -           T        |
 6|  "   L   "     O Y E S   "  |
 7|    ' l   V ' Q I     W '    |
 8|=     E   I W I   G   E     =|
 9|    ' D   N '   ' A P E '    |
10|  "       Y       B U R   "  |
11|        - L         D E B    |
12|'   M I S S E N T   U R E   '|
13|  D A F T   ' I '       Z    |
14|  O R F   D A C H A       -  |
15|=     ' L A N K E R   '     =|
   ------------------------------

Any suggestions? I had to open a second lane somewhere; after my play of HAPAX 5A I drew the blank and was able to bingo out with TABOOING, catching Barry by ten points but it could have gone either way (worthy of note are the E and T hooks to DEB, a much earlier play I had set up when in arrears on move 4). Maybe HOAX in column 5 would make it harder for him to score and block both lanes, especially as it leaves a tile in the bag; other interesting ideas are HOX 2M, OX C9 and even the daring EXO 8L.

The third game was also close, with odd tile distributions hampering progress on both sides. A useful endgame K gave me enough scoring power to prevail 368-346 with no bingos to Barry’s CLASSES. That was the match, and I will now take on Lois Binnie or Fintan Conway.

A brisk eight (22-minute) games at the familiar Box Hill centre on Sunday, a welcome retreat from some wild weather; this was the Victorian matchplay qualifier, the top sixteen eligible to carry on and vie for the glorious title in individual knockout rounds over the next couple of months. My first opponent was Oliver Podesser, who opened with TOMBOLA but didn’t muster much thereafter – in midgame I took the opportunity with EEORSX? to make the blank an X, then later had VISITER to put the game out of his reach. Then Aaron Chong, currently ranked number one in both Malaysia and Singapore but sojourning in Australia for a month (and proud possessor of a very high initial Aussie rating, after an undefeated outing in Brisbane). This had been billed by avid onlooker Anand as “the clash of the titans”, but I got an early break after I left open a C-hook, retaining CNO and picking ENOR for CROONER. His scoring dried up just as I drew the blank, and he never had the opportunity to get back in.

Next up was Trevor Halsall. A fairly cagy start, but my rack matured to SINTERY while he needed to change the Q; as the board sclerosed I slotted TETANUS, prompting him to try a speculative nonword, and he had no way back. This paired me with the ever-entertaining ockerina Carmel Doney; consecutive BRENTEST and DOGLIKE were helpful, then a phony on her part gave me the breathing space to overlook FORCEFUL (oops), though I did manage ROTOTILL next move. I think that was lunch, and I showcased the delights of Ra-Ramen to Aaron in the food court (where we engaged in conversation about Malaysian politics and culture with our random table-neighbours).

Peter Kougi in game 5. The newish BOOAI was helpful, but the rack didn’t improve much and I soon had to change all of DLTTUWW. I regained a small lead with LEDGERED (onto ED), having remembered Chris’s recent bewilderment that it was good while LEGERED* is phony; it seems a LEGER is a fishing line, and to LEDGER is to fish with a particular type of line, so of course it makes sense. More so than GREBO/GREBOS, GREEBO/GREEBOES anyway. My AGNOMINA was met by his INTERACT, and after a successfully fishing for an E, LAZIER for 75 helped me to a lead after he erroneously tried to S-hook AGNOMINA. That’s three games in a row my opponents phonied…always helps.

Geoff Wright was also undefeated after five, and in a low-scoring encounter he manufactured a strong lead. My much-needed bingo never came, though a 60-point WAQFS cut the arrears, and Geoff is pretty good at closing down a board when ahead. In game 7 I vied with Sandra Masel, who played solidly but ended with a 60-point deficit after I deployed TATTOOER.

Final of the day was with Jimmy Scarff, and here I had a fortunate start with IRONNESS onto his opening TSK, 30 points for GOMEREL and then ACERBITY. He was well behind even after conjuring WALISES, so my dangerously-placed POLITICO permitting his 99-point ZOOEA was worth the gamble. On 7-1 at close of play, Geoff having faltered late in the day, I came out on top. Jimmy’s an interesting case, clearly with a much better vocabulary than his rating suggests. He’s studying hard at the moment so could well claw his way up the rankings.

Final day’s play at Hobart, and again I was drawn with Anand to start. A midgame MADEFIES gave me the lead, but he soon slotted TENDING in the remaining bingo lane to take it back. Successive 40+ scores for AYONT and MOTIF saw me home. Then came the tie with Chris that was discussed in comments to my earlier post…interesting rack imbalances throughout – I was plagued with consonants early on while he held vowels, making for a slow start, then I had to try and keep pace with his 72/72/101/35/48 sequence (including GJETOSTS) while juggling a second blank.

I seem to have trouble defeating Richard Jeremy, and on this occasion he got me again. He floated an E for a modest score, then dumped two more vowels before bingoing through the E; struggling with G, C and V combos, I had difficulty in pulling back against his endgame power tiles. Before lunch I faced Carmel Dodd – quite a fortunate game, with UTILIZER available through her opening Z, then a blank delivering ANTEFIXA fairly soon to negate her URODELE. The second blank enabled me to lock it in despite swallowing ABMMQ at the end.

I think at this stage, Alastair and Esther had taken the lead over me by half a game, and I was unable to assail them again due to the pairing format. After lunch, they occupied tables one and two, taking on Joanne and Carmel (Cheah, seated next to me, observed: “The ladies have swarmed up!”). I took on a nervous-seeming Graham Lock Lee; his seven-tile change delivered a nice CODICES but luckily I had BLANCHES through it to keep a lead. Then a late J and blank enhanced my spread at the end.

Esther lost to Carmel, putting me back in second where I faced the troublesome Rod Talbot. He opened with a seven starting IRONIE… – I hoped for an S rather than an R, and it duly appeared which gave me SHEDLOAD, followed straight away by GUILTIER. I was incautious enough to verbify UPTICK on move four with a phony past participle, and sadly when it came off the floater gave him ENHEARSE to take a small lead. But as the board got harder to colonise, a late pair of blanks secured my win. Incidentally I would probably have started with IRONISE, permitting the front S-hook. Meanwhile Carmel had also done the honours to beat Alastair, so for the final game I was back on table one after a rather seesawing day; a win would guarantee the title, whatever Alastair did.

John Hamilton had popped up into the top ten at this stage, and it was my lot to take him on. The only point of interest from my point of view was my third rack FLPRSY? – was hoping to get FLYSPRAY (or FLYTRAPS or PALFREYS) down, but it was not to be. Apparently he overlooked a spot for CITRATE, so while I was unable to use my blank for ages, I was pretty much in control of the board. And that was the tournament. I had a little more than my fair share of blanks, nabbing 56 bingoes in 24 games.

We had a superb prizegiving banquet that evening, far better than Canberra’s mean show last year. The seafood starter was copious and delicious (oysters, smoked octopus, salmon etc), the carvery main was excellent, and the pecan pie was memorable. Next year we venture to the Gold Coast in sunny Queensland.

A nine-game second day. Anand Bharadwaj was my first – as a preteen he continues to make waves, and is now ranked sixteenth in Australia. A look at his record reveals that where he took on players ranked above him, he went 2-6 (and he was one-all with Russell on roughly the same start rating); I started going to Scrabble clubs in my late teens, a lot later than him, but recall being stalled on a particular rating level for some time before suddenly surging up to a higher plateau. Maybe there is a moment when word knowledge meshes with sufficient strategic experience to click over to the next level, and the ability to vie with the elite on equal terms.

Enough waffle – the game itself went well for me with some well-spaced bingoes, though he did wrap CAJOLER for 60 around the O of my opening KOPPIE, putting me in temporary arrears. The tiles were equally congenial as I took on Joanne Craig, two blanks permitting PEAFOWLS to put her in terminal arrears. I got a break against Roberta Tait, who overlooked the (S)QUIZ hook on my opening play that would have allowed her bingo, and an early NONQUOTA was helpful in locking in my win. Then a victory against Cameron Farlow, another youngster surging up the ranks, but he needs to work on his fours (he also challenged my late-game extension DOPIA(ZA)). At the halfway stage I was leading 11-1 with spread, but Alastair Richards was only a game behind after beating Jimmy Scarff in game 12 on the adjacent table. At the start he had suggested “Shall we put the tiles in the bag?”, and Jimmy asked, “Do you mind if I pray over them first?”. He then uplifted his arms for a few moments, invoking the blood of Jesus to come down and wash the tiles in a healing spirit. Alistair said “Cool,” and the game began. I think Jimmy’d been doing it in every game; for a heathen such as myself it seems unusual, but I have no problem with it if it helps. I have a bit of a history with Jimmy, including an incident at the 2005 Victorian Championship (pre-blog) which was the most traumatic experience I have had at a tournament. I won’t go into it here, but it was kind of cathartic to see Jimmy in a particularly mellow mood.

The postprandial game with Alastair flowed nicely. ROUTHIER on move two to negate his LITREAGE, then two more straightforward bingoes enveloping a remunerative MOZ. But he was also scoring strongly all over the board, his first eight plays earning 403 points. A late REDDINGS gave me the win, whereupon some naïve folk started to congratulate me on wrapping up the tournament. But I knew different, and as if to prove it, went on a three-loss streak against Esther Perrins (four bingoes on her part), Cheah Siu Hean (poor tile flow, but a midgame attempt of the phony MAYORLY* didn’t help) and Russell Honeybun (four bingoes, but I kind of kept pace; a hasty choice of QIVIUTS rather than SQUIT in the pre-endgame was inferior, but would probably have led to a slightly narrower loss anyway).

Last of the day was Joanne again. I bingoed with STRIGATE to go 100 clear, and she revealed afterwards that she had considered but rejected OVER(S)ICK for 203 – lucky break for me, and as somebody else commented that’s one of the intangible factors you can never quantify during a game (to what extent your opponent errs). I built up enough of a lead to withstand an unblockable late bingo on her part, and at the end of play was lying on top of the pack only thanks to spread.

After a copious banquet at Magic Curries, Chris and I returned to the hotel to find Jimmy sitting ruminatively on the doorstep. He stood up with an outstretched hand to clasp mine, saying “No hard feelings?” “Er, not on my part,” I stammered. “I’d just like you to know that Jesus loves you, and Jesus forgives you, and I forgive you.” I thanked him, not entirely clear whether I should accept the mantle of the guilty party, but as before glad that matters were being smoothed over.

I hadn’t played since January, and felt rather rusty when sitting down against Dianne Gibson. Some early racks gave me a good mental workout, with EOORTW? and BEFORT? generating no playable sevens or eights on a tightish board despite intense cogitation. Not sure I played it particularly well, but a win set me up against Rod Talbot. Another blocky board developed, of the type he loves (at least against me), but I developed a lead that withstood his two closing bingoes. I racked up some spread against Betty Foreman, then almost fell foul of Tony Hunt when I felt forced to bingo leaving multiple floaters, taking the last seven tiles with the rather fearsome ADDEEGIILMNNRS unseen. My choice of SWELTING was inaccurate (WELTINGS would have been better in the circs), but fortunately his EGILNRS rack did not avail him for a comeback bingo.
( positions )

I won the Australian Nationals again, to my surprise. Having done minimal study over the past few months, I fully expected my paucity of CSW12 expertise to be thoroughly exposed. But it turned out I was able to get by.

I arrived in Hobart on Good Friday evening, and on reaching the Black Buffalo Hotel at about 9.45 I read a notice on the door which instructed me to ring a certain number (too bad, I suppose, if I hadn’t had a phone on me). A gruff male voice answered with a “Yes?”. I explained that I had a booking and needed to check in. My interlocutor took an age to find me on the list, and after grudgingly accepting that I was registered, yelled “Why are you so late?”
“What do you mean, late? I’ve just arrived from Melbourne”
“You should have been here by three o’clock!”
“Why? I wasn’t aware of that.”
After a pause, I continued, “Are you going to let me in?”
He acknowledged that he would, and slammed the phone down. Meanwhile a couple of other unregistered guests (Noel and Owen, also playing in the tournament) had turned up alongside me and awaited entry. A large-bellied balding gentleman with a short neck appeared from the gloom within the hotel, shuffling to the door and activating the entry. He surveyed us with a contemptuous mien, barking “Fisher! Sixteen”.

I asked if he was the owner, and he said no, the night manager. I told him that he was extraordinarily rude and unwelcoming, and his response was something like “Tough.”

I went upstairs and found Chris, who had already texted to advise that we had been allocated one queen-size bed in our room rather than two twin beds, as booked. We went back down to raise the issue with our host, who was still dealing with the other arrivals. Once they had been sent packing I explained the situation, whereupon he shrugged his arms aggressively, saying, “I can’t do anything about it! We’re fully booked”. I repeated that we had booked a twin room, and he told me “There’s nothing left. I’m not going to get into another argument with you.” “Well, can I at least have a key to the room?” He agreed he would bring one up.

When he got to our room, his head was bowed and he said he was sorry for being rude: “I’ve had a bad day”. I was still appalled by his behaviour, telling him that I hadn’t expected that kind of welcome. His hackles immediately rose again, and he riposted “I’ve already apologised to you! I’m not going to do it again”. So I took the key from him and shut the door.

The following morning, Noel bumped into us as we emerged from the room, and enquired “Who slept on the floor then?” I told him we had shared the bed and he replied, “Oh, were you topping and tailing?” “No, but we did manage to contain ourselves”.