wot a weekend

It hasn't been my best weekend ever. On Friday I went down to Ro's, the M1 was bloody awful as everyone else seemed to have had the same idea, so a journey that usually takes about two hours actually took me nearer three.

The reason for my journey was that we were off down to Twickenham the following day to watch the Tigers play Sale in the premiership finals. Don't actually approve of this particular game as it's to chose the league champions and in my opinion the team that top the league over the season should be the champions (this was Sale this season bye the way, we came second). Added to that I don't like Twickenham which is a nasty soulless edifice and a royal pain in the behind to get to but we can't miss the chance to watch the Tigers.


I actually wrote a poem about this some years back when we went down with my other sister to watch Northampton Saints play London Irish in the cup final. It goes like this:

We won't go to Twickenham ever again
not even if Tigers are playing a game.
The stands are too steep and the atmosphere loud,
the roar of the liniment, the smell of the crowd.

The crush in the carpark behind the west stand was more Guiness than Pimms
more "Wild Rover" than "Land ....".
We needed our field glasses so we could see,
We waited an hour in a queue just to wee,
The traffic was dreadful and made us quite late,
We almost got squashed in the crush at the gate.

So we won't go to Twickers, well not for some time;
If Leicester go through, and the weather is fine.
And there'll be no more rugby to watch till the fall,
And we're already feeling the pangs of withdrawal.

So the first day of June we'll be traveling up
To watch as the lads pick up just one more cup.
But then Twickers NEVER will see us again,
Not even if Tigers are playing a game.

Needless to say on Saturday the traffic was bad, it pissed down with rain and we were comprehensively stuffed (by the better team I hasten to add). So we've agreed that we DEFINITELY won't be going again next year. (hollow laugh).

On the knitting front I had to frog my Pomatomus because they were turning out miles too big. I restarted them on 2.5mm needles but made a mistake in the ribbing and frogged again (that's a total of four froggings!) I get the feeling that god doesn't want me to knit Pomatomus. I'm gonna give it one more shot and if that goes wrong I'm giving up and burning the wool.

It was nice going to Ro's though, it always is and I sleep much better at her house than I do at mine. Must be 'cos I don't have to think about my ordinary day to day worries down there. I also saw my Auntie Sheila who was the recipient of the Hedera socks that I made. She received them earlier in the week and is jolly pleased with them She's wearing them as bed socks which is okay with me as long as she's happy with them.

Finally gratuitous sheep shot