Six Nations and watching sport

Yesterday afternoon I had a nice peaceful time sitting and watching the rugby. For those of you not sportingly minded in any way, it was England /Wales and a traditional grudge match. And it was heightened this year by the fact that neither side has lost a match in the series yet, and so probably someone was going to come away gravely disappointed.

Seeing as I’m someone not usually remotely interested in sport, it’s surprising that not only do I enjoy watching rugby, but I actually understand it too. I could possibly put my interest down to the very shallow reason that in rugby you do regularly get a good eyeful of lovely, muscley, masculine thighs when they go into a scrum, but that doesn’t explain my enhanced understanding of the rules. I’ve never even had a boyfriend in my entire life that played it, so I have no idea why.

This match in particular also had a rather gorgeous Kiwi referee who it must be said had impossibly good looks and was wearing a very fetching blue outfit. So yet another reason to sit in front of the telly for one hour forty minutes with only a short break for a cuppa at half time.

The Six Nations is one of the few sporting events most of us here will sit down and watch together. Whilst I’ll watch winter sports until the cows come home, and will watch athletics in the summer occasionally if I have nothing better to do, that’s about it. The Hubby and his boys are footie mad and will watch Chelsea, Arsenal or England ad infinitum. The Ashes for the Cricket, golf, any other team sport are all grist to their mill – bores me rigid! Particularly golf, which is like watching paint dry with the occasional panic when a fly gets stuck to it. What’s the point? I must say I agree with Oscar Wilde (at least I think it was him) in saying that golf is a good walk spoiled. (If it wasn’t him, and you know who it was, do let me know!)

I’m not even particularly interested in the tennis at Wimbledon any more and Andy Murray certainly isn’t my idea of a national hero, miserable Scots git!. What is the point is being talented and rich if you have no personality and no charm? All the hysteria about trying to get into Wimbledon and sitting on ‘Murray Mount’ (previously ‘Henman Hill’) to cheer him on leaves me cold.

The Olympics is also of very little interest to me this year. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic thing to have in London and if we get it right, it will be marvellous positive publicity for good old Blighty, but personally I’d quite like to go abroad for the whole three weeks and just let them get on with it. It will dominate the telly, make getting to work a nightmare and fill London with lost foreigners. I have no interest whatsoever in trying to get tickets for anything, and it is quite beyond me why anyone would want to queue up for hours to get into a venue and sit on uncomfortable seats with nothing to eat or drink and not enough toilets to watch a race which might last as little as ten seconds. I know its supposed to be all about the experience, but wouldn’t that be more comfortable in your own easy chair with a cup of tea and packet of chocolate hobnobs which haven’t cost the earth because you’ve had to buy them there because they won’t let you take your own food and drink in?

Of course we’re all different, so if you’ve got tickets good luck to you and I hope you enjoy it. When it’s raining, your seat has a puddle on it and there is a queue 45 minutes long for the loo, think of me in my nice warm house with my hot cup of tea. I’ll be thinking of you!