A slip of fate
A good day, fairly low key. Started with some work on my skeleton story for a few hours, and then had a swim in the afternoon. This I followed by a spot of clothes shopping. I had been putting this off till I stop being so porcine. But this is proving a long wait, so I have bought some fat clothes thinking if you are fat you may as well be smart and fat.
Evening entirely taken up with watching the Champions League Cup Final between Manchester Utd and Chelsea with Anton. Anton is a Utd fan and so one of us was destined to be gloomy. We got some takeaway Chinese food and sat on the sofa and watched an epic confrontation which went to a penalty shoot out. Unbelievably the excellent Chelsea captain John Terry only had to score his penalty and Chelsea would win.
Due to the downpour in Moscow he slipped on the drenched pitch just as he took it, which caused him to miss the goal by a whisker. United went on to win by the narrowest possible margin. Thus a piece of wet mud can make the difference between what would have been a much deserved and historic victory for Chelsea and failure. The forces of darkness have prevailed and beautiful lofty things have been thrown down.
Some species of cavorting dance from Anton when they first scored, but he quietened down and became full of doubts and horror after Chelsea equalised, and outplayed United for the rest of the game. And when it looked like Chelsea were going to win, he prematurely congratulated me and hexed the whole thing. A fair amount of crowing and renewed dancing at the end from Anton. He also snatched my mobile phone to film the disastrous moment of their triumph. I suppose it could have been a lot worse.
Anton went off cheerfully into the night as I cleared up the Chinese fortune cookie wrappers, reflecting on how football can dramatise the tiny pivotal moments of life.
Below a Getty image stolen from the BBC. Poor John Terry watching, mid slip his penalty shot go wide.
A good day, fairly low key. Started with some work on my skeleton story for a few hours, and then had a swim in the afternoon. This I followed by a spot of clothes shopping. I had been putting this off till I stop being so porcine. But this is proving a long wait, so I have bought some fat clothes thinking if you are fat you may as well be smart and fat.
Evening entirely taken up with watching the Champions League Cup Final between Manchester Utd and Chelsea with Anton. Anton is a Utd fan and so one of us was destined to be gloomy. We got some takeaway Chinese food and sat on the sofa and watched an epic confrontation which went to a penalty shoot out. Unbelievably the excellent Chelsea captain John Terry only had to score his penalty and Chelsea would win.
Due to the downpour in Moscow he slipped on the drenched pitch just as he took it, which caused him to miss the goal by a whisker. United went on to win by the narrowest possible margin. Thus a piece of wet mud can make the difference between what would have been a much deserved and historic victory for Chelsea and failure. The forces of darkness have prevailed and beautiful lofty things have been thrown down.
Some species of cavorting dance from Anton when they first scored, but he quietened down and became full of doubts and horror after Chelsea equalised, and outplayed United for the rest of the game. And when it looked like Chelsea were going to win, he prematurely congratulated me and hexed the whole thing. A fair amount of crowing and renewed dancing at the end from Anton. He also snatched my mobile phone to film the disastrous moment of their triumph. I suppose it could have been a lot worse.
Anton went off cheerfully into the night as I cleared up the Chinese fortune cookie wrappers, reflecting on how football can dramatise the tiny pivotal moments of life.
Below a Getty image stolen from the BBC. Poor John Terry watching, mid slip his penalty shot go wide.
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