Yawn . . .

. . . sorry, but I fell asleep twice during the England v Scotland game. Scotland absolutely deserved to win the Calcutta Cup, and it's always good to see them winning against anyone at Murrayfield.

A dismal performance from England - sent decisively homeward, tae think again . . .

Oui!

Quelle surprise!

England 24: France 13

Excellente!

Time for a drop of vin rouge, je pense.

A blustery day

Me 'n' My Boy enjoyed a brisk and bracing walk along the shoreline. It was much windier than we'd expected (hence the Extremely Bad Hair Day self-portrait below) and, though the kite-surfers were out in force, there was hardly anyone else around - which is unusual for a Saturday.

We stopped for a restorative cup of tea and hot chocolate respectively, sitting on the step of one of the 'Barbie Beach Huts' (newfangled prefabs in pastel colours which I'm afraid slightly offend my pro-higgledy-piggledy olde-worlde beach hut sensibilities, though I'm sure they're jolly nice inside).

Then back in time to catch the second half of the Wales v Italy match - a comprehensive thrashing of the Italians by an unstoppable Wales, which was rather depressing, though I have to admit there were some pretty thrilling tries. (I never enjoy it when Wales win at rugby because I just can't stomach all the gloating the next day - and you know who you are, and I'm not going to listen, OK?)

And if that was bad, then how much worse to see Scotland go down so dismally to Ireland. Oh the gloom. And minority (of one) gloom, as well, because the rest of the family, sporting genuine Irish genes as they do, were cheering on the winners.

So I'm all geared up this Not Very Super Saturday for a hat-trick of disappointment, since I can't really imagine that England will repeat their World Cup win over France.

I'm very much wishing now that I'd opted for the concert I'd been toying with going to instead.

Oh well. If it all gets too much, I can always read a book . . .

Operatic moments at half-time

Scuttled back to my desk at half time in the England v Italy match this afternoon, intending to do some work, but ended up (this keeps happening to me!) surfing around YouTube.

Here’s one especially for a friend who’s currently off making music in the great churches of Rome while the rest of us battle on with the laundry and the delights of half term - Anna Netrebko singing E Strano from La Traviata.



. . . and to prove that she can act (all tipsy and consumptive) at the same time as singing, you can watch her performing the same aria at the at the Salzburg Festival here . I simply preferred the dress in this one!

Italy wins hands-down when it comes to opera, of course. No contest. But we did manage to beat them at rugby 23 - 19.

Things that didn't go quite according to plan

Well, so much for lunch at the Oyster Bar . . .

Various family members unavoidably detained in Colchester . . .

So called it off, ate a solitary salad at my desk and carried on working instead.

Took the dog out for a stroll round the sea wall.

Cold, quiet, deserted. A subdued, wintry sunset.

Then settled down to watch . . .

Wales beat England!!! Argghh! Unbelievable! How could England let this happen?

(Mind you, could - mutinously - quite happily watch James Hook convert tries all day long . . . and I've never felt that way about a Welshman before!)

Ate consoling cake, then got back to work again (breaking off for my regular appointment with the ER).

Strange old day, on the whole.

Have got a nice new teapot, though!

Rushing around . . .

Went to the West Mersea Panto today with SD#3 today.



Babes in the Wood, it was.



Oh no it wasn't!




Oh yes it was!








Also went to a shop and walked with SD#2 and the dog on the beach.

Hectic pace of life here on the Muddy Island, sometimes.



Tomorrow I will be going early to Colchester Rugby Club to watch SD#3 training with the Under-6s. SD#2 will be playing U11s away matches in Braintree. SD#1 will, as usual, be 'shadowing' the club physiotherapist, and getting some hands-on practice with various injured limbs belonging to chaps in the Under 15s - not a bad form of work experience for a 14-year-old girl, if you ask me!



There's just something about rugby . . .

sad . . .

. . . but true

South Africa 15: England 6

Feeling jittery . . .

Oui!!!!!!

England 14- France 9

Vive les Rosbifs!

England: Robinson; Sackey, Tait, Catt, Lewsey; Wilkinson, Gomarsall; Sheridan, Regan, Vickery (capt), Shaw, Kay, Corry, Moody, Easter.
Replacements: Chuter, Stevens, Dallaglio, Worsley, Richards, Flood, Hipkiss.

Scary . . .

England: Robinson; Sackey, Tait, Catt, Lewsey; Wilkinson, Gomarsall; Sheridan, Regan, Vickery (capt), Shaw, Kay, Corry, Moody, Easter.

Replacements: Chuter, Stevens, Dallaglio, Worsley, Richards, Barkley, Hipkiss.

I'm almost too scared to watch . . .

I return from my intemperate defection . . .

Well that's a bit more like it, chaps!

England 36
Tries: Sackey 2, Tait, Farrell
Cons: Wilkinson 2
Pens: Wilkinson 2
Drop-goals: Wilkinson 2

Tonga 20
Tries: Hufanga, Pole
Cons: Hola 2
Pens: Hola 2

So it's Australia next Saturday, then. Eeek!

Arrgghh!

Catastrophic result for England against South Africa in their first Rugby World Cup game tonight! And the only player with any charisma and that special bit of ooomph, the ever-brilliant Jason Robinson , is out of the tournament and possibly the game forever, with a hamstring injury. Well, I'm off too, after this disastrous performance from the - ahem - reigning champions [sic], and am going to support Scotland instead. Fickle? Moi? Oui. (But Hugo Southwell plays for Scotland, so I think I might be forgiven?) The rest of the family are turning to the land of their (great)grandfathers and pinning their hopes on Ireland.

Well, having partially drowned my sorrows with a couple of glasses of fairly (no, extremely) indifferent Sauvignon Blanc, I'm off to bed with Inspector Rebus - though with some trepidation (and I have very carefully avoided all reviews and spoilers, so please do not enlighten me).

Busy weekend ahead, with an endless round of children's sporting, educational and social activities, several kilos of blackberries to harvest, Small Doyle No 3's first day at the Rugby Club (under 6's squad) on Sunday (hard to believe if you've seen the bridesmaid pics, but she is tremendously keen, so we're off to buy some boots tomorrow), and the second half of the memoirs of a nineteenth-century Russian sea Captain to copy edit (jolly entertaining, actually, apart from the bits about whaling, which was de rigeur in those days, of course, but pretty hard to read from a twenty-first century perspective).