Well, almost a week has now passed since the end of the AFL season, and I have found, surprisingly, that life does indeed go on, as the saying goes.
What really got me over it was the chain of natural disasters that have occurred in various parts of Asia and the Pacific this week. The sadness of it all...
I have been blessed with family and friends, and although not everything in our lives goes wonderfully, all the time, we know things can, and do move on.
I woke up on Thursday morning with a sore throat, feeling dreadful; and unfortunately, two days of taking it easy, sleeping a fair bit of the time has not yet beaten the virus.
The forecast for today's Grand Final is for rain, wind and hail; but somehow, if I had tickets I would still be lining up to go, even with no guarantee of shelter. The virus is unlikely to be swine flu- no aches and pains- just sore throat and really, really tired.
The mood this week has been a mix of anxiety, anticipation and time passing slowly, so much more slowly than normal. But Saturday has finally arrived...and with it the realisation that there is nothing that I can do...
The players have made it clear that their goal was to win the Premiership. Now all that remains is for the game to be played....
Fist of all it is necessary to know that not a word is spoken during the film, which won an award at
The scene is a metro railway carriage, and a young man who gets on to the train, in a crowded carriage and an attractive young woman who sits in the vacant seat next to him, and how two people can connect without speaking a single word.
The communication comes, as he is reading a book, he shows her some words as he is underlining them: the words aren't necessarily the correct spelling of what he wants to say, but the sound is, as he underlines:
"Les regards autour son sur vous
Je ne peut voir votre visage mais les regard parle... »
(Everyone around is looking at you, I can't see your face but their looks tell)
She underlines and shows him, in the book she is reading :
Ils ne disent rien pour vous
(They say nothing about you)
Etcetera
Eventually, she writes her phone number on her book, just as she arises to get off the train
Suffice it to say, almost every female I have related this to, gets a little weak at the knees at the idea of the romance evoked in just a few minutes of film footage and nine sentences. On the other hand, most of the males are completely underwhelmed...
What does grate-papier mean? According to my dictionary- pencil pusher...
We can all share in someone else's excitement at a change in life, whether it's a new baby, an engagement, marriage or simply a milestone like a birthday, or an arrival or departure.
Counting the days, and hours helps to maintain and build the excitement.
The first time that Aussie Lass flew back from France, I tried to imagine where she was at various times during the long flight from Europe..., counting the hours: thankfully sleep provides a respite for us, at least. All of a sudden, it's off the airport, and waiting for what seems like hours, but is really not very long at all. This time, she and muffin man will be arriving in the evening, so we'll have all day to wait.
Yesterday one of my colleagues was waiting to depart for her first overseas trip, leaving plenty of time to get to the airport, while our more well travelled colleague was much more laid back and blasé about arriving at the last minute. The plane was delayed once, by two hours, then again by another two hours, so that an unpleasant arrival time of midnight (destination time) turned into 4 am arrival at the airport. By the time they got to their hotel it would have been 5 am, and with three hours driving and meetings to attend, today will have turned into a difficult one.
I love going to the airport to meet travellers. If you stand at the gates waiting, you can can see the excitement as people come through the doors from customs, anxiously looking for friends or family, amidst the exhaustion that comes with long haul travel in economy class. There are many stories to be told, no matter where the traveller comes from.
Oh yes, and I am counting the days until the first of the imminent arrivals....49 days until the Aussie Lass and Muffin Man arrive, and doubtless many others to anticipate over the years to come.
Another weekend in a busy life, with lots of things happening, including a Saturday afternoon snooze to recharge the batteries, and a chance remark last week which got me thinking along a theme...what does make the pulse beat just a little faster?
Over the past few weeks I have discovered that one way of making sure that I can watch the footy, even when my better half does not want to watch, is to hand over the iPod Touch, so that he can play some games instead.
Lucky for games like Trism, Bejewelled and Fieldrunners.
For me, I had a long winded run on Trism, getting one score in the 1 billion range, but I am over it now. I have also downloaded the Scrabble version from the App Store, and can happily play against the computer for hours. I guess I will get sick of that soon, too.
These devices are addictive, but also very useful. With the benefit of a wireless network, I can check the latest footy or cricket scores and stories thanks to the apps which cater for these interests, as well as check the latest AU/ US fx rate; the headlines and stories in The Age, Le Monde or the ABC. And I (or someone else) can play games for hours, and having more than a thousand music tracks, a French English dictionary, some electronic books and hundreds of photos of my last holiday in France are just added bonuses!
Nerdy? Maybe, but lots of fun.
The AFL season is upon us, and for the long suffering St Kilda fan, it is a strange feeling to be sitting on top of the ladder with a percentage of 212% after winning the first five games of the season, ahead of Geelong on percentage, with both teams two games clear of the rest of the competition. There have been some newspaper articles written in the past about long suffering Saints supporters struggling to come to terms with not being the valiant loser when there has been a series of wins which I have related to, and which, sadly, I have kept electronic copies, as they seemed so reflective of my feelings at the time.
The role of the courageous loser has been our lot for many, many years, except once, in 1966. This year, our boys are tough competitors who through sheer domination and determination in defence and superb teamwork have kept their opposition to miserly score lines all season. In 2004, when a stream of 10 victories in a row (including the pre-season cup) including some victories where the team really didn't play all that well, but still won, were challenges to that old psyche. That is because a victory, seemingly not earned, does not have the same deserving feeling as a loss, when a brave performance was not enough to get across the line, but could always be lauded for the spirit of the defeat, in some small way like the Anzacs at Gallipoli Cove, fighting an un-winnable battle with honour, despite the pain.
It's a long way to go till the end of the season, but it's far better to be sitting on top, than struggling, winless or 2 and 3 after round five of twenty two. This year, the battles do not look un-winnable, even so, wins cannot be assumed, because there are many things that influence the result of a game of football which are outside the control of the team, including injuries, suspensions and bad umpiring decisions. And while the team is playing well, I will bask in reflected glory, and enjoy the moments of pleasure which come, and maybe, just maybe, dreaming of a better year than the last.
A momentuous weekend...getting mistaken for a Kiwi, what did I do to deserve that?
In an effort to lift this blog out of the melancholy caused by the recent events in Australia, here's a little poem I found to celebrate Valentine's Day
Roses Aren't
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm allergic
Atchoo, Atchoo
Patrick Winstanley on http://www.peculiar-poetry.com/types/holiday/valentines-poems.htm
