Sported Out

At last , a few days holiday, so I put my feet up on a cushion on the table, try to warm my lap with the lap top and switch on the television for background mumbling. Our programmes are restricted to dire French tv or the basic four English channels obtained by pointing an aerial towards the channel islands and putting up with snowy reception.

And is there a girly romantic fiction to distract me? A film? Any sort of drama would do, well, except for soap operas.

Of course there isn't.

Lots of men running around pitches, either carrying or kicking a ball and using up lots of energy for no obvious reason. Is it to stop them fighting wars and channel their aggression? I don't really get sport. What is it for?

I will admit to watching tennis sometimes. Perhaps it is the gladiatorial aspect of one on one.

But team sports just leave me cold. Never mind, I expect I will be able to enjoy the sight of people skiing down steep mountains and jumping into the abyss a little later. I hope for their sakes that it is more fun to do than to watch.

It must be time for Porridge's walk...sigh...