I love sport. I don't do anything anymore (yes, I use the 'no time' excuse, and it's not an excuse, it's real!) and I do miss it. But I watch a lot of it!
From age 3, I have practiced some kind of sport. I started with 10 years of ballet. I stopped because my teacher moved and I didn't want anybody else but her. Then 6 years of volleyball. I stopped as I was the only player able to walk under the net without having to bend down and I didn't jump high enough. And then, I started ...basketball. Another game not for shorties. I used to have loads of fun though. And I think that one of my best memories of it was bumping so hard into another player that she got sick by the side of the court. She shouldn't have gotten in my way and it's not my fault my shoulder was at her stomach's height (that's how tall she was!). But then, exams came about and school work needed more attention so I gave it up.
Then I moved here and was too busy working and partying to play sports. A girl in work tried to start a handball team and what a disaster that was! She was already playing gaelic football (a french girl playing GAA!) so not afraid of contact. You probably guessed from the above story that I am not either. The other players? Well, emmm, there was one that was afraid of the ball coming at her, one that was running 'funny' (She was just leaping around, toes pointed instead of running!). And we had the one that doesn't know the rules, doesn't want to know the rules and just moaned that she had to run. We were training with guys too, some of which were on the Ireland team. And they were training, not just messing about. I would consider myself a bit of a nutcase, the reason being: I put myself forward for goalkeeper. Well, we couldn't put the one that got out of the way every time a ball came towards her now, could we? What a mistake on my part. Does anybody know how fast and small and hard, hanballs balls are? Well, imagine a cantaloupe melon being thrown at you by a man at full force but without the capacity to explode, that should about do it. The goalkeeper, well, keeps goals and basically, just jumps up starfish stylee (that's arms and legs spread) and eyes closed and tries to block the ball. After a few melon size bruises on my arms, I thought maybe it wasn't such a good idea but kept on going. Until, I got one in the head. Unfortunately, the imprint of stitches on the side of your face were not a good look that year (or any other year). So I gave that up. Fast forward a few years, I decided to join the gym. I went religiously for about a month and a half, until I met my calorie obsessed, just won't shut up about work boss there. At around which time, I also realized that they had messed up the direct debit and didn't take the money out of my account and I owed them about 300 euros. I never went back and they didn't chase me up either.. Strange..I also bought a stepper, which is now stored under the spare bed. I took it out a few months ago and used it (at least twice) but it was just taking too much space in the sitting room and went back to its rest place.
So instead now, I watch sport on tv. And this afternoon, France played against Ireland in the 6 nations. And won. A lot of people might think that I must be delighted with the win and I am but (and there is a but), I am not all that happy. Well you see, Ireland is my home now and my girls are half and half. But I AM French. Things haven't been the same though since that Hand of Frog incident (Was I glad I wasn't in work then!). Since then, I wouldn't necessarily display my Frenchness while supporting my country's team because I know the Irish have a long memory (800 years, hey?). And today, after a deplorable display of non fair play on my part (I clapped when the Irish lost the ball at the beginning), I was made swear by Mr Foodie that I would not cheer at mistakes and that I wouldn't gloat if we won the game (which I wouldn't anyway *cough*). Well, OK, I would probably make a few jokes about it, but it would all be gone by tomorrow (sore looser, Mr Foodie!). And if I did cheer or gloat, it would come at a price: no blogging for 3 days. And Mr Foodie does not threaten, no he doesn't, if it sounds like a threat, do not be mistaken, it is not one, it's a promise. He would probably go to work with the 2 laptops in the boot of the car for 3 days. So, I made him swear too. No Facebook for him for 3 days either. And with that the spirit of fair play was restored in the house. And I even switched sides for the last 20 minutes, I was cheering for Ireland (well, I kinda knew that they wouldn't come back, really, and that I wasn't really being highly unpatriotic and some kind of traitor to my country). I don't like it when either one of the teams gets steamrolled like that (I hope that doesn't sound like gloating, does it?). I'm really happy France won, but I'm also a bit sad that Ireland didn't play all that well. But out of respect for Mr Foodie, I will keep my happiness low key and celebrate in my head rather than publicly. But I know though, if the shoe was on the other foot, I probably would be suffering the unending jokes of a very gloaty Mr Foodie (who would have deliberately decided to go without his beloved facebook, just so that he could). All in the spirit of fairplay though! Now, where is that remote so we can watch the Olympics?