It's Saturday and feels quiet, like I don't have anything in particular to do, but were I to put my mind to it I'm sure I would find something. It's a little bit like the feeling you get when you know you should be studying for an exam but can't be bothered, because study just doesn't excite, and no matter how much you try it either doesn't go in or you can't remember it. This unfortunately was probably why I failed all my exams at school. Then to be marked with the curse of an underachiever and worthy of nothing. What a poor world it is to judge someone as a failure because they just don't pass an exam, which used to be how I felt.
So I console myself as I watch the rugby action, it's Scotland versus France. I've sent a couple of text messages to L & B man, on account he's Scottish and probably going to be interested in Scotland losing. The game is fast paced, I'm watching it now. So far France is in the lead 17 to 7, the Scots are used to losing so it won't be too bad if they don't win. If they win they will get pissed. If they lose they'll get pissed. I used to think I should support Scotland because of Sparkling an all. But then when I found the Scots would even support Germany if they were playing England I changed my views. It maybe an archaic and stereotypical set of biases held by both nations and unfortunately one which seems to be perpetuated, but if someone is willing to challenge and break that view then surely the other side should do the same. They didn't for me, so if Scotland lose, touch haggis. The first half is over and there is no change in the score. Yep, looks like there's some work to do if they want to come back. I know if Sparkling isn't at work she will be watching the rugby. She's got a thing about rugby players. I think it might be the big thighs. I'm sure it's not the cauliflower ears.
Big momma made lunch today. It was toad in the hole. Normally something I like. Yet there was something wrong with the batter, it was half cooked. I tried a bit of sausage, which had an odd taste to it. There was something again not quite right about the taste, I asked if it was in date. "Yes" I was told. I didn't eat any more, went to the fridge found the packet and found it was 5 days out of date. If the fridge was having one of it's freezing everything phases it might of been alright, but it doesn't feel particularly cold. So I went without and did what I normally do when I can't trust a thing cooked by momma. Go to a cafe and eat there. I've had more cafe food in my life than momma has cooked hot dinners. Otherwise I'd be in the hospital every couple of weeks and knowing the docs by their first name.
I pop in and out of the rugby window, listening while typing. Oh dear. France have scored again it's now 24 to 7, another bad day for Scotland. I'm caught in the action of the game and before I know it Scotland have scored a try. I hear the bag pipes from somewhere in the crowd of supporters and yes although I am English I'm shouting for Scotland. The score is now 24 to 14. It must of been the bag pipes. The sound of a dead cat puffed up with air and being squeezed under someones arm pit. How comes so many of the French players have names which sound like toilets? It must be the language. The ref is having his say. Oh shame, another missed kick from the French, and they were the ones who invented the Exocet missile. There's another try by the French. Nice play 31 to 14. Maybe Scotland could loan a couple of English players, just for this game. No, don't think it will happen. I must say though. Rugby is a team game, much more than footy and I was once told there's a position for every type of body shape. Even fat men. Well it's all over now 34 to 21, looks like someone hasn't been eating their greens.
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