(un)sporting

If I were to liveblog the football match that's on at the moment, my entry would be something like 'man in red is kicking the ball, man in blue has got in the way, guy with whistle is being pointy and taking the ball away'. You should be impressed that I actually know there's, like, a ball involved, and two teams.

I went through a stage of watching a lot of matches, keeping a friend of mine company in the pub across the road. I did a lot of nodding as he chattered on about fuck knows what. He supported Arsenal, of whom I approved because they had Thierry Henry, obviously God's 'sorry' gift to women who must watch football with men in pubs. Mr Henry isn't playing tonight. I expect you knew that.

The red people have scored. Much screaming. I live opposite a pub and below red people supporters.

Still, I'm enjoying the game in a girl-like way, with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and the windows open to let in the evening air. We've spent the day cleaning and I've tidied my room, cooked a curry and made up a bowl of falafel mixture to fry off tomorrow. I'd rather it was a tennis match on the television but Wimbledon will come around soon enough, and then it will be hard to pull me away from the sofa.