Monthly Archives: July 2010

Cherries with mon cheri

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I is dun football post!

Can’t go to bed until someone wins the World Cup, and it’s looking like it might be a shootout finish. Stressful.

Ooooh, Dutchman sent off in the final minutes of the…final. Idiot. Spanish free kick now. Nope, went over. What’s the guys name? Sounds like Chavvy, but it’s not that. Xavi.

Another Dutch player just got booked -this has been a dirty game. 8 yellows for the Netherlands in this game, the tv man tells me.

I seem to have begun live-bogging the final minutes of the 2010 FIFA World Cup. Except I’m not publishing live, so this is going to be more a stream of consciousness.

Nothing much is happening now… It is still 0-0.

The Spanish coach is old with a moustache, which means that I have an inexplicable feeling of tenderness towards him. Seriously, in films or whatever, if an old man gets hurt or upset, I get very upset too. God help the screenwriters if he also has a moustache…for some reason a moustache adds sympathy to an old man. I don’t know why I’m like that.

Still, nothing has happened.

Oops, a goal kick has been given it seems…I missed it. The commentator just accidentally advertised Specsavers, and then went very quiet.

SPAIN HAVE SCORED! HANDSOME DARK HAIRED MEN ARE PILING ON TOP OF EACH OTHER AND MEN WEARING BRIGHT ORANGE ARE LOOKING ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS! THEY ARE YELLING AT THE REFEREE! He’s English, by the way, and most shiny of head.

Another Dutch man got a yellow. And the dude who just scored for Spain had been booked for removing his shirt in celebration, haha! Fiona assures us this is something to do with corporate people being cross at the advertising on the shirt being whipped off screen at the most important moment.

Ohh no, the handsome Dutch goalie is crying.

I am sad for the Netherlands, this is their 4th World Cup final, and they’ve never won yet. Also, they have to wear orange. Ick.

Torres is lying on the floor, with a genuine injury. Still, he’s about to win the Cup so maybe that will cheer him up a bit.

I seriously cannot believe how far goalies can kick.

OOOO! WHISTLE BLOWS, SPAIN HAVE WON THE WORLD CUP FOR THE FIRST TIME! LOTS OF MEN BOUNCING UP AND DOWN KISSING EACH OTHER, NOT LISTENING TO KYLIE MINOGUE! The Dutch look sad.

Oh, please stop crying handsome goalie. Oh… He may in fact be a Spanish goalie sobbing with joy. I’m not sure.

Mum points out that Paul the Octopus was right again! That is one freaky octopus, beaten only into second place by Ursula from The Little Mermaid.

A Dutch player who looks like Phil Spencer is looking in pain.

Ahhh… it IS the Spanish goalie who is crying. Man up. The Dutch goalie is looking tall and blonde and stony faced.

Oh look, King Felipe.

All these weeping men are making me sad. The Dutch crowd are a sad sight to see! A load of deflated orange people.

The crying Spanish goalie is also the captain, so I’m going to allow him a few tears. The Spanish are picking up their moustachioed coach and throwing him in the air. I wish we’d won, just so we could enjoy the spectacle of Capello trying to enjoy being thrown in the air and keep his glasses on.

Come on, hand the things out. I want to go to bed. Give them the trophy (which, I point out, is NOT a cup). That tootily toot music they’re playing now, Fiona points out -and we agree- sounds like the theme music from Galaxy Quest.

Yeah, cheer the ref! Howard the Englishman! Not Howard from the Halifax, thankfully. Ah dear there was some booing of the ref. My sympathy for the Dutch is diminishing somewhat.

Not much happening, silver medals, Crown Princes, oooh the Dutch coach just took his medal off as soon as he got it. Air hostesses standing inexplicably behind the hand-shaking people.

Spanish team now mounting the steps to receive their medals and the trophy, being led by a player who looks like Justin Hawkins from The Darkness.

They have lifted the trophy! Gold confetti rains down around them! The weeping goalie/captain has handed the trophy to his team, but you can tell he wants it back.

The Dutch are still on the pitch, watching. Someone let them go inside. Ahh, well done Spain. That’s that. Lineker and the Scottish guy and the other guys are going to talk for about an hour now. Probably.

Goodnight!

Even more words and thinks.

So, I updated my blog’s look  (and ain’t it puuurty?) and thought maybe I could update the content too.

My old blog about Leeds (and how there are definitely good things to be said about living there, right? Right?) has been sitting unloved for a while now, so I thought it was time to close it down properly and move on. So, I’ve managed to import all my old posts from there onto this blog… so if anybody fancies a read of what I had to say before I started writing at Sarah Thinks, please feel free to peruse my archives. Ooh, matron!

x

Birds

There are house martins nesting outside my bedroom window. They built the nest by taking scraps of dirt, dipping them in a puddle and sticking them together in the corner overhanging my window. It was fascinating to see them do it, and how quickly it all came together and how well it’s held up in the weeks since then. It’s nice to hear them twittering outside in the morning, and I’m certain they have entire conversations. In the last couple of days, I think, their eggs have hatched… I can hear the little ones making a fuss when they’re being fed. This sounds like a wonderful aspect of the rural idyll, right?

But…ohhhh how they creep me out. You see, I really don’t like birds. I don’t mind them from a distance of a few metres, but up close? With the fluttering and the scratching and the feathers and the beaks? Shiver. And these birds? Because of the position of the nest, when they’re coming in to land they have to swoop right up to my window, nearly hitting the thing, and then I can hear them scrabbling to get into the nest, and their wings fluttering against the window pane… I actually genuinely just shivered. Just writing about it.

However, being the life-respecting, nature-loving, sentimental person I am, I try not to think too many bad things about them. And I named them…

I have a strange habit of always thinking about names. I make name lists in my head when I’m bored, and if I can’t sleep I play a game where I have to try and think of all the boys names I know that start with A, and then if I manage that without falling asleep, I move onto B, and so on. It’s more complex than you’d think, you have to work through the Aa’s and then the Ab’s (during which you work through Aba’s, Abb’s, etc).

Anyway, I named them Henry and Hermia.

They are very beautiful little birds. I am just oh so very grateful to whichever Roman first thought of covering that hole in the wall with a pane of glass, thereby keeping the wonders of nature and the little flapping wings that go with it outside of my room.

Fiona

I just wanted to share this photo I took of my little sister.

I love it. It’s very simple, just lit by the sun. It shows, without any posing or setting up, or re-touching at all, just how beautiful she is.

I also love the picture below, for the exact same reason- except (she thinks) she looks a little like she should be in a late 80’s, early 90’s rock video. Think Aerosmith, maybe. Anyway…