The end of the affair July 4, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
I don’t know if this is England-being-out-and-the-interest-waning talking or honesty, but the World Cup really needs to be a week shorter. There is no need for fifty-day hiatuses between matches once the group stage and second round are over. Presumably, once every four years, a handful of footballers can be called upon to play a few matches more than they usually do in a fairly limited time. And I’m even struggling to still desperately want Germany to win the bastard. The stickers of the German flag given to me by a drug-addict “for my wife” early on in the tournament – on my way to meet some bloggers (and other humans) for the first time, actually. Well, not other humans. I’d met some of those before – still poke out of my wallet and I’m yet to adorn them on my mug. But a mini German flag does now perch on top of the map of Europe – darlings, invest in a map of Europe, or anywhere interesting. Our guests spend practically ALL their time looking at it – in the hallway. And I’ll try my best to urge the boys on in front of the TV this evening. Unfortunately, I have remembered I have to work to finance being alive. Well, fortunate I’ve remembered, I suppose, but unfortunate I have to do so. I still haven’t forgiven my parents for not being The Queen and Prince Phillip (although I’d hate all that pretending to want to have a military career. Did even Edward – aka Betty – go through with the charade?). So translate my piffle I must.
Still, maybe I’ll be eating my words next week when Germany will go back to hating itself and flags will be removed, folded and either tucked away at the bottom of the deepest drawer in the house or burnt ceremoniously. TVs will sheepishly return to every café’s dusty cellar and enormous flat-screens will go back to the hire shop. Depression levels will soar. Strangers will stop feigning interest in how long is left for the sake of striking up drunken conversation. Even if Germany win the thing, the honeymoon could be short-lived. I have some Frenchies in town at the moment and their quiver of glee at winning in 1998 didn’t get them to the millennium. Not by a long chalk. Or country mile. And what with old Mr. Ullrich having been suspended – why have the words ‘ablative absolute’ just leapt into my brain? – the Romans laid waste to Carthage. What? I mean, sorry, what with Jan – oh, I see he’s an Ossi. I quite fancy him, actually – out of the Tour de France – Jan has no idea why he’s been suspended, by the way – Germany can’t even pretend to get consumed with that. Carnival will be over and we’ll have to make our own entertainment again. (Personally, I’ll be doing some embroidery and singing songs with my friends around a campfire with nothing but a guitar in the way of modern technology.)
Maybe I need a holiday.