Tag: <span>South Africa</span>

There was a large sporting event happening in South Africa, you may have heard about it. I’ve been really good and, despite watching almost every game, I’ve not really mentioned it here and I’ve tried not to be too boring about it on Twitter (I feel sorry for my followers at times, I really do).

Spain won. I yelled and punched the air when this happened. I was most pleased. Mainly because Holland seemed to think the best way to stop Spain was to kick them (in the chest at one point).

And here endeth the football.

Sport

It must be a false memory.

Like that one where I’m still convinced that, when I was about 6, I used a toy phone to speak to my cousins in Dundee. I am still sure, to this day, that I did speak to them despite all evidence to the contrary. I’m nothing if not stubborn.

So it’s with an expression of perplexity that I sit night after night and watch the World Cup (of Football, in case you were confused). I hear the vulva horn thingies buzzing away and can see the pitch, the ball, the referee and the players. Every possible moment has a mention of England in one form or another, and there are liberal doses of casual xenophobia left, right and centre.

It’s definitely a World Cup.

But by GOD it’s boring. It wasn’t always this boring, I know it wasn’t. I got to watch ALL (every single game) of Mexico ’86 as I was off school with chickenpox. I kept my own notebook of scores, laboriously coloured in each flag and the mascot was painstakingly recreated on the cover. The football was fun, goals were score, crowds cheered, commentators fumbled over foreign names and got over excited every time one of those new fangled Mexican Wave things started.

It was exciting, entertaining, and engrossing.

Fast forward to South Africa 2010 and… what has happened? Dull, boring and I’ve even turned off a couple of the games through sheer disinterest.

It wasn’t always like this, was it?

Sport

Dunno about you, but our Friday night was spent avoiding Children in Need. It’s just awful. But then I feel the same way about can-shakers on street corners… same thing, different exposure.

Saturday and, after a quick stop off at Costco, we headed through to Dumbarton to help prepare the rest of the buffet for the leaving party that night. My brother-in-law, who really enjoys cooking and is a very good chef, had already prepared enough food to feed about 150 people so we didn’t have that much to do. Especially as we were only expecting somewhere between 50-70 on the night… Needless to say there was a LOT of food leftover, there are only so many chicken and sweet chilli blini a man can eat (37, in case you were wondering).

That aside it was a good night. My nieces both looked gorgeous, our youngest nephew was dragged up to dance and even managed to LOOK like he enjoyed it. and our oldest nephew, the guest of honour, had a great time. Allegedly there are even photos of me dancing with my wife! (shock horror!). It was an emotional night, obviously, as our nephew flies to Amsterdam on Wednesday from where he will sail down the coast of South Africa and then on to South America. Of course in this age of modern communication, we’ll be keeping in touch via email as the ship is equipped with a wireless network (man, there must be some range on THAT!).

We got home at around 2 am (I was driving), and I struggled out of bed on Sunday morning for a long, and very muddy, run. Sunday mornings are always harder than most, probably because I’ve not been up and about for most of the day, but yesterday was even harder. I spent the rest of the day, quite literally, sprawled out on the sofa, dozing in fits and starts. Still a little tired today although Louise is off her work so I hope we both haven’t caught the same bug (or if so, it’s only a 24 hr thing).

Still, I’m glad I struggled out for the run as I’ve signed up to run a 5K in December. My number? 13. Seriously.

It’s a small affair, Louise has entered (she’s number 14) and so have my Mum and Dad. Mum will walk it with Louise, and Dad will be jogging it with me. He used to do a lot of running (several half-marathons, 10Ks and one Scottish marathon under his belt) and has been back in the gym, pounding the treadmill, since his heart attack. He reckons he’s on for a 40 minute time, and I’m aiming for 35 (just under hopefully). Sponsorship still to be sorted out but don’t worry, I’ll be chinning you lot too! (go on, a couple of pound won’t hurt your wallet half as much as my legs are gonna ache after the run!).

I am becoming a little too reliant on parenthesis.

And yes, my hosting company, who also hosts several other blogs you may read, had a few “issues” today. Just in case you were wondering where I’ve been.

Life

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Searching for words
At lunchtime today I will be going shopping. I will be buying a ‘joke’ gift. I should stress that I am buying it for someone else.

Thing is I’m worried about how to phrase my request, which do you think:

  • Can I have a plastic poo please?
  • Can I have a fake turd?
  • Can I have a joke jobbie?
  • [insert other colloquialism for faeces]

What a quandary.

Ohh yes, I should explain why, shouldn’t I… well.. bear with me please…

Seemingly, in South Africa, for a bridal shower it is traditional for the bride to receive kitchen utensils. When she gets the present she has to guess what it is before opening it, if she gets it wrong she has to drink from the potty (filled with wine I hope). The brides mother (who works with Louise) thought it would be funny to put a plastic poo in the potty for a laugh…

Yes I think that’s what I was told… and no, I don’t know if I am being wound up or not.

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