Leaves on the line

January 11, 2007

Bit of a faux-pas on the train this morning, with ever-increasing delays as a consequence of the age-old “leaves on the line” cop-out. In defence of my train company, however, the leaves in this instance are still attached to a tree.

Back in the firing line

January 7, 2007

After a two month lay-off with a strained disc, I played only my fourth rugby match of the season today. And what a great time to do it. My team is in what I believe is euphemisticlly referred to as a “rebuilding year”, and are languishing somewhat in the league. We played the team in second place today—a foul-mouthed, classless team of racists I’ve always despised—in appalling weather.

Whilst warming up for the match, I tweaked my back again. Sod it—that’s me out for another 2 months. As we had no cover at tight head prop, I had to start the game anyway. I reckoned I could make it for about 5 minutes, and then I’d have no choice but to come off the pitch and start crying.

Somehow, my back held up for the full 80 minutes. To be perfectly honest, scrummaging was about the only thing that didn’t hurt. Maybe I was meant to be a prop…

And after all that, we won, too. 10-6.

As I write now, my arms and legs are covered in cuts and bruises. I reek of Deap Heat, and my back is about as flexible as the Pope on abortion. I wouldn’t have it any other way—the good times are back.