Due to popular demand I have decided to give a match review of my Tuesday night 5-a-side soccer team tonight. We lost. We sucked. Americans are demented. More later.
I knew today wasn't going to be a good day when I went outside for my morning breath of fresh air and sat down on my terrace sofa - which I remember fondly all of the help I had putting together from Jimmy, Lauren and Mum - did I forget anyone...? Dad, were you there? Just joking, the soft drinks were much appreciated! Anyway, back to my ominous start - so I was sitting there appreciating the fresh air and the morning sun, thinking positive thoughts about the world, when out of nowhere a dead bird plummeted down, landing with a squidgy thud about 12 inches from my feet! Again, much like my golfing adventure, I was totally alone, so I could tell you that I didn't flinch and minutes later, in a manly fashion grabbed a spade and carefully placed the dead bird into the bushy area of the meditation garden in a quaint and befitting end. Maybe I even said a few words about the bird's life and wished it well in the beyond. I didn't. It took me 3 seconds to work out exactly what had just happened one small foot away from me. When it registered I released a high pitch squeal and jumped up and ran to the far end of the terrace trying to shake off the heebee geebees and proceeded to try and work out two things - first, how was I going to get back into my apartment (the dead bird lying just by my terrace door), and secondly, would I really ever need to use the terrace again? Maybe a stray cat on the third floor of a luxury New York apartment building would be taking in some meditation and would find said bird and remove it as a gift for their owners? I was rocking back and forth as the post-traumatic stress finally sunk in, having decided to live at the far end of my terrace forever. But I am a man, and somewhere from the depths came a strength previously unknown to me (or anyone else who knows me) that propelled me forward with a dust pan and brush (luckily kept in the storage cupboard at the far end of my terrace) and I ran, emitting a low pitched moan, to the bird, swept it up, and without even thinking about the afterlife or what my many neighbors, who overlook my terrace, must have been thinking as they watched this spectacle, and proceeded to swing the dust pan in a high arc over my head, releasing the, in hindsight possibly just stunned but now very definitely dead, bird over my fence and into the meditation garden / kids play area. I shuddered, like men sometimes do when they've just finished peeing, and ran inside! Not even finishing my fresh air...
I immediately went to Jimmy for some form of therapy and quickly found out that there are two things that genuinely amuse my younger brother. The first is following through when farting - generally as it relates to other people. And the second is animals dropping dead out of the sky. Reeling from his genuine lack of empathy to my situation I decided to move on and realized I had been awake a mere 8 minutes. Time for breakfast? Eggs anyone?! (I shudder as I type).
I don't want to give the impression that the first 8 minutes of my day were the highlight of my day, but they were and there's no denying it. As predicted, my DB lunch meeting cancelled on me, so I bade my time mentally preparing for the big game.
I got to the pitch early so I could warm up my ageing muscles (more like resuscitate) - which is a strange term given that I was already drenched in sweat from the walk there and couldn't possibly be any warmer without some form of molten lava. Before I put on my team's red t-shirt I overheard two other players talking a few yards away from me, it went like this: Player 1 "I hope we're playing that team in red tonight", Player 2 "Yeah - they're sh*t", Me "I wish I could play against those losers every week". I then put on my red t-shirt and walked to the pitch. I felt like I had one-upped them in some weird way, until they walked onto the same pitch and it dawned on me that they were playing us tonight! Anyway, we didn't disgrace ourselves tonight and lost a close game 7-6, mainly due to our other non-American player, a young French player who is among other things Thierry Henry's cousin, a world famous break-dancer, a product of the French Football Association's academy and last but not least, Madonna's current boyfriend (girls, google Brahim Zaibat)! All of which is great but he could have been Thierry Henry and we still wouldn't win any games!
God knows what will happen to me tomorrow. This blogs seems to have brought unexpected events into my life as if maybe God himself is reading this blog and wants it livened up a little bit... Maybe he's my visitor from Germany! I personally hope that nothing happens out of the ordinary tomorrow as I have a cleaner coming in the morning, followed by lunch with DB (possibly...) and I don't really want any funny stories coming out of those two appointments. Love you all lots, xxxx