And I don’t mean the impending announcement of whether West Ham will indeed get the Olympic stadium over Tottenham.
No, it’s bigger than that: today is the day the eldest goes off to play in her first inter-school football tournament on the astroturf pitches at a local High School. She has some new Arsenal shin pads, which the youngest tested thoroughly in the front room last night by giving her sister’s shins some good hard kicks. She has some football socks which she insisted she didn’t need because she was going to borrow her friend’s spare pair. It was pointed out that, going forward, if she was going to play for Arsenal Ladies she might need her own…
There then followed a fulmination about the selfish nature of her boy team mates; apparently, they would rather lose possession of the ball to the opposing team than pass to a girl. There was also a more mild-mannered digression around why she was picked to play in the team at all: long legs, speed to burn…
I am on maternal sporting tenterhooks waiting for the post-match report.
…and it’s worn me to a ravelling.
Fortunately, at times like these, I can always fall back on the girls. Driving back from The Big Smoke, or as I think of it at the moment The Big Dust, they entertained me by winding the windows down and singing along to Alexandra Burke’s Bad Boys with great gusto. It was only a little distracting from the small matter of the A127 at hand.
They have both provided me with blog gems this weekend. The eldest has enquired why some people I know dress like Hypnotists and the youngest has identified a shade of blue know as Turk Boys.
Yeah, the Bad Boys are always catching my eye too kids. More about that when I have recovered my energy!