I was going to do a blog about that match. The Champions League final (or, for the unreconstructed, the UEFA Cup final) between Barcelona and Manchester United. Saturday night, BBC1. Prime time TV. (For those of you who missed it – like myself!)
I wanted to drool about scintillating tactics, the sheer poetry of the goals. The stunning athleticism of that field full of adonis physiqued young men. Against the background of the shenanigans and scandals engulfing the world of FIFA and its’ chiefs of staff. The nobility of the game versus the corruption of its management.
I pondered for two minutes. I puzzled. I scratched my head. Then realized – soooooo boring a topic could never sparkle, lift off the page, grasp the imagination. I decided the time would be better spent building mud pies in the rain. Far more inspiring and satisfying than football. (Although David Beckham is soooooo cute!!) An attitude I would have bet reflected that of our household. (Apart from the David bit. IT Expert doesn’t quite get the David glow!!)
Imagine our disbelief then: our very own London Lass, who last week, in Northern Ireland, couldn’t have described the beautiful game to you, spent a cold and blustery Saturday afternoon, watching the football in Hyde Park (on a big screen?? In real life?? For fun?? Who knows!?)
Well. Just goes to show – it takes a person to be away from home for their real selves to be outed!! Ain’t life strange??
What will be revealed next? The inner Elvis? The reincarnated spirit of Pocahontas? Will the real London Lass please step forward!!!!