Note to self: don’t eat lentils. Half an hour after eating a lentil and potato curry, I have blown up like a barrage balloon. Every time I make potato curry, Mark and I have the same conversation. ‘But what about protein?’ he wails. And I reply, just as I always do, ‘I’ll put some pulses in’. This week we had run out of kidney beans, so he suggested lentils. Mistake!
Still, he has a sense of smell and I don’t, so there’s karma for you.
I watched the women’s tennis final today. Can someone please explain to me why women can run marathons but still can’t play five sets in tennis? Also, why they had two male commentators and only one woman? Are they going to have women commentating on the men’s final?
Are they buggery.
I think we should be told.
Good news about the Tour de France departing from Yorkshire, though the attempts of Yorkshire folk to say ‘le grand depart’ gives me convulsions
A toute a l’heure!
I have a confession to make. It’s very odd, but for the first year ever, since I was about 11, I have no interest in Wimbledon. I don’t know why this is: it could be the football which means the BBC have given it less than their usual dedicated coverage; or the fact that Murray is out much sooner than he ought to have been – whatever the reason I have seen a few matches but it has failed to excite me. To understand just how weird this is, you have to realise that Wimbledon has been a feature of my calendar every single year since 1966. I have only missed a couple: once when I was living Up North and didn’t have a TV, and once when I was living in Madrid and only had access to channels like TVE 1 and Telecinco. Every channel in Spain has adverts on; and the news is so frenetic you can’t follow it at all, never mind the sport. Which reminds me, have you ever tried listening to the tennis on the radio? It’s something else. By the time they’ve described a back-hand cross-court volley with top-spin which lands just short of the baseline, about three more shots have been played. Weird.
Today I have been mostly… finishing off my memoir. Yay! I have now reached the requisite 50,000 words (that’s about 150 pages) and have reached it in about six weeks starting from a base of 6000. Now begins the work of revising… Still I think I shall give it a rest for a week or two as I have to do my tax return and reapply for tax credits. Joy.
Have a good weekend. We shall be going to the cathedral to see the new garden and to Serenity, a Sci-fi event, on Sunday where I shall be poeting.
Well, what else can I write about today but the tennis – and what can I say but ‘Wow!’ There were two utterly terrific semi-finals yesterday: I had intended to stop watching the first, between Djokovic and Del Potro, after an hour or so, but I just couldn’t tear myself away. This nail-biting five-setter didn’t follow the script at all: Djokovic ought in theory to have dispatched ‘Del-boy’ in straight sets, but the Argentine player just hung in there and produced some spectacular shots. He simply wouldn’t go away and punished each of Djokovic’s errors with a winner. So Djokovic eventually got through the match, which was the longest men’s semi-final in Wimbledon history; though there have been longer matches at other levels. You have to wonder whether, after that, he will have the reserves he needs for tomorrow’s final.
Aaaaaand yes! He will be playing Murray. After a fairly nail-biting four-setter against the eighteen-year-old Janowicz during which they had a break to put on the roof, Murray was through in fairly decisive fashion. The match was almost an object-lesson in youth versus experience, Janowicz covering the court faster but Murray playing more wisely and getting far less worked up. There was some controversy about the decision to put the roof on at that stage; there seemed to be enough light to play on but Janowicz had been whittling about the roof for a good half hour and the break favoured him as Murray was on a roll at that point. Still, in the end Murray gritted his teeth and won the fourth set and the match. You have to give him good odds against Djokovic, especially with a home crowd.
Sadly I shall be missing the women’s final as I’m meeting Chris and Peter for a drink: however I have my seat booked for tomorrow from 2 pm onwards. Not on centre court, sadly, but in front of a decent TV for a change…
PS I can’t remember if I mentioned that I was going to be on TV talking about urine therapy? I think I did – well, I’m not doing it now as I have received reliable information that this is not the serious scientific study it purports to be but an exercise in ridicule: apparently it is to be called ‘Health Freaks on Trial’. So no thanks, Channel 4 – if I’m going on there it should be me taking the piss….
Mark mentioned Pink Floyd this morning and for a moment, I thought he’d said it wrong – for a moment, I thought the correct version was “Pink Freud”. Or I guess that should be, “Pink Froyd”. Must be the episode of “Friends” which appeared on Friday when i was channel-surfing with Steve (no, that’s not a euphemism for something which would render me Unfaithful to Mark) which was the one – sorry, The One – with the musical “Freud!” As they correctly say, the exclamation mark* should have given it away. If you haven’t seen it, do so immediately.
My hair is pink. I may have said this before and it may be unnecessary to remind you, but I just thought I’d mention it. Actually, I should probably put a heading, “New Readers Start Here”.
New Readers Start Here
My hair is pink. When people ask me why, I say “It’s because pinks have more fun”.
And it’s true!
Philosophy without tutor today. Sounds like “minister without portfolio”. Apparently she is off rescuing the countryside with Bill Bryson. Sounds like fun.
Murray on court today. A TV, a TV, my kingdom for a TV!
Enjoy the match.
PS a phrase in my mind when I .woke up: “I was receding in an elderly direction”
* I guess that really was an “explanation mark” ( see previous post)