Winter really is here; there was frost on the ground again today so thick and white it looked like snow.

This isn't usually something that affects us here at the Watusi Country Club since we are late and lazy risers, more regularly preferring to see in the day at the crack of noon with a healthy brunch cocktail.
But these are not regular times. The world's sports fans – and a small percentage of New Zealanders – are buried deep in the Football World Cup. At the Country Club the walls are lined with big screen televisions and we have moved to a nocturnal clock. And, yes, we call it football, not soccer. It was called football long before someone picked up the ball and decided to play rugby, and long before the Americans added their own name to the game along with helmets and large shoulder pads. Football, in its original form – the Beautiful Game.
It's certainly something to thank the English for, but then most of the good sports seem to originate somewhere in Britain (yes the French can keep petanque). They invented the Beautiful Game, the Silly Game (where people wear white and not much happens for five days), and of course the Sport of Kings. Though I've never been quite sure which sport is the Sport of Kings…
These days the term seems to refer to horse-racing, though it often used to describe polo. Perhaps you have, or had, to be as rich as a king to afford a horse. Looking back at the odd historical reference work I see the term has also been applied over the years to falconry, bowls (though probably not the French version after their choppy encounters with royalty in the late 18th century), jousting and, once upon a time, chariot racing.
However, over the last couple of millennia of English history, the sport most associated with the label Sport of Kings was the national sport of Britain – cock-fighting. The British were crazy about cock-fighting. Every village had a cockpit. There was a cockpit at Downing Street and another at Westminster Palace. Shrove Tuesday was cock-fighting day in schools, and all boys could bring along their cocks and fight them for the day.
And people think battery chickens have a hard time.
Lest you shudder and think that cock-fighting was behaviour of no social merit, something we should be glad to see the back of, think for a minute of the lasting impact it has had on, if nothing else, the English language.
Without cock-fighting we wouldn't have the terms 'pitted against”, 'turn tail”, 'show the white feather”, 'a clean pair of heels”, 'well-healed”, 'cocksure” or 'cock-eyed”. Even the term 'game”, with its meaning of 'up for it” or 'ready”, comes from the 'Sport of Kings”.
Cock-fighting was banned in 1835. It must have been almost unthinkable at the time for an activity that had been around for the better part of 2000 years. And it makes you wonder about the future of rugby doesn't it? Given that it's a sport still in its (relative) infancy, played in relatively few countries, and even after a hundred years or so they still can't decide on the rules and what to do to make it more interesting, is it possible that rugby will just be a blip on the historical sporting graph, a failed experiment that died out after a couple of centuries?
Oops. I seem to have neglected the musical aspect of this column. Here it is right now. Next weekend (Sunday June 27) is time for the annual Jazz For Waipuna concert, raising funds for the Waipuna Hospice. This runs from 1-5pm and is more good work from the Tauranga Jazz Society.
This year's line-up features Bay Dixie, The Boys' College Band (who sounded so impressive at Easter), Three's Company, Margaret Harper, The Woody Woodhouse Connection, Lynda Wing and Friends, and the Alana Milson Quartet.
That's a very nice middle-of-the-road collection of music and should keep anyone happy for a few hours, especially since the price is $15 with all money going to the hospice. The event takes place at the Bureta Park Motor Inn and tickets are available on the door.