Heart racing, palms sweaty, discarded beer bottles on the floor. Perched on the edge of my seat, subjecting the television to random shouts of “OFFSIDE!” and “KICK IT!!!”, and minutes earlier I’d just said:
“You know what’ll happen, they’ll score a try, and then get a penalty in the dying seconds…”
Yes, some good old fashioned Scottish naysaying, and I was almost right… Thankfully they missed the conversion, Scotland charged up the other end and… bloody hell, we won!! What a game! Well played indeed, some of the passing was inspired, the hits were big and the only downside is that it wasn’t the English on the receiving end!
Anyway, enough exclamation marks.
A quiet weekend, hardly ventured out of the house, and despite watching three games of rugby and two games of football I still managed to get quite a bit done. Considering the next month or two will be my busiest by some stretch it felt good to go to bed last night safe in the knowledge that I was well on track. Hell I even managed to get the car washed (it’s only a little car though … doesn’t take long).
So why was it that, at almost spot on 5am, I was wide awake and couldn’t get back to sleep? Not only that but Louise was the same. We both ignored each other as we tossed and turned, with both of us failing to find that nice comfy spot which always makes us go to sleep. I tried counting sheep, I tried relaxing my body, concentrating on one area at a time, breathing out slowly… only for an itch to demand a scratch at the last moment. This happened three times before I gave up. Sometime between 6am and 7am I fell asleep again… crap… I’m yawning just typing this.
Ohhh, did someone say coffee?