Thursday, July 01, 2010
Not a mornings person
I awoke to the gentle sound of rain on the window and had an idea: With Glyn staying over and Sam Green at home for once, why not run out for a morning game of football?
Of course, we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
As we struggled into our respective kits, Glyn was enthusiastically describing a local council initiative for midnight football matches in Northern Ireland.
"It's about getting youngsters off street corners," he explained.
"Have they done anything about getting your mum off street corners?" I asked. He let this pass.
Sam Green, meanwhile, was worried about our lack of goalie gloves:
"I've got some wicket keeper gloves upstairs but they've got webbed fingers," he said.
I couldn't help myself.
"So's your mum."
Sam also let this pass; we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
***
Disclaimer: my mother is a saint.
Of course, we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
As we struggled into our respective kits, Glyn was enthusiastically describing a local council initiative for midnight football matches in Northern Ireland.
"It's about getting youngsters off street corners," he explained.
"Have they done anything about getting your mum off street corners?" I asked. He let this pass.
Sam Green, meanwhile, was worried about our lack of goalie gloves:
"I've got some wicket keeper gloves upstairs but they've got webbed fingers," he said.
I couldn't help myself.
"So's your mum."
Sam also let this pass; we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
***
Disclaimer: my mother is a saint.
