Oh good, he wants to play again!

Last night I asked P what he planned to do about rugby this morning. He said he wanted to play again. But I’m no fool, and there’s no way I’m going through another Sunday like last week! So I told him in no uncertain terms only to say he wanted to play, if he REALLY meant it, and not to just say it because he thinks it’s what I want to hear (especially as in truth I’d really like a lie-in!) But he said he was sure, and that he understands he’s made a commitment to the club.

So bright and early this morning, up I got. But it wasn’t bright, it was raining. P wasn’t pleased and said he wasn’t so sure. Trying hard to keep my sigh silent, I told him to decide once and for all if he was a rugby player or not, because real rugby players aren’t worried about a drop or two of water!

Two hours later, this is what we looked like. Expect I didn’t take a picture of myself as my mascara had run in a most unglamorous fashion, and my hair was matted to my head.

I’m dry now. But I don’t feel it. My shoulders ache, the back of my chest aches, and I think I’ll go for a bath to warm up.



Oh and we have a visitor. One lone goose camping on our soon-to-be-finished deck. The BH won’t be pleased when he gets home, because they shit everywhere. Usually I chase the damn creatures away, but this guy looks like another goose gave him a pecking and he just wants a quiet spot to hide-out in, so I guess I'll leave him be.