Oh.... I'm neglecting my blog at the moment. I'm trying to write lots of different stuff, find time to use my new breadmaker and do all the other myriad things which seem to soak up time. I have a whole novel to read before my book group meets on Tuesday! Hmmmm!
And the football! As I write, Rog is glued to the boring and very very loud England vs. Algeria match. Apparently it needs to be so loud so that he can hear the commentary. But all I can hear is the awful trumpet things - voovoozalers (I have no idea how to spell that word). I really dislike football - or rather I can tolerate it for about 5 minutes and then I want to scream. But in the interests of marital harmony I won't scream - even if we weren't able to go out tonight (yes, we had the rare offer of a babysitter - can you believe it?) because of the football.
I think I'll open some wine - alcohol is possibly the only way forward.
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5 comments:
I'm convinced like with Tennis Arrows are the way forward. And if any happen to stray into the crowd, well you've paid you money you take your chances. And I see no reason not to extend this idea to big brother.
No night on the town for a draw no less, ouch.
I am ever so thankful that my hubby doesn't watch football (or soccer as we call it!) Although the golf he is addicted to is like watching paint dry. They need some of those trumpeters. That might make it more interesting!
Our house is filled with the sound of tennis and football. My husband has been sick and he is nursing his sore throat in front of the tv. I don't mind so much, but I'm content to keep track of how the teams and players are doing by second hand news from him. There's too much to do around here anyway! I agree with you about those trumpet thingies. They make me think of a swarm of killer bees about to strike!
We have not seen a second of the World Cup in this house. Fine by me. One of your commenters mentioned that watching golf was like watching paint dry. Well, I think watching soccer is like watching paint dry while a group of men run from one end of the room to the other. NOTHING ever happens. Zzzzz. But, everyone is entitled to a hobby, I suppose.
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