5th Feb - Swing Low



I wasted 22 hours of my life in the end. Yesterday, I mean. After 6 hours waiting for an ambulance, and another hour getting to the hospital, I spent 15 hours waiting for treatment in A&E. That's not even an exaggeration, by the way. The experience was appropriately summarised by a nurse who didn't take enough blood to fulfil a blood test which took more than 4 hours to analyse. That happened twice. So I essentially emerged from A&E at 2pm, without sleep for the past 32 hours, like a pale zombie staggering back into society, met by the news that both of my sons had contracted COVID. Had enough of my moaning yet? Me too, rant over. 

In more positive news, yesterday's madness resulted in a jumbo sleep and I emerged from my butterfly-like chrysalis to a chorus of sunshine outside on what promised to prove the pre-cum for Spring. In fact, I saw a Tweet yesterday, detailing how the sun will be setting at 7pm in just 39 days time. Is it bullshit? Potentially. Am I using it to fuel my optimism, regardless? Absolutely. A morning trip to ALDI was rushed through in time for a return home for one of the most exciting days of the year. I am, of course, referring to the Six Nations. 




Fair to say, I don't even believe a deep passion for Rugby is required to appreciate the wonders of the annual tournament, with five weekends of muddy action bringing together a flurry of U.K based banter from all corners of the Kingdom (notably loudest in the West). You see, the event doesn't just signal the beginning of another English Grand Slam. It heralds the dawn of warmer times, leaving Winter behind, and the free-flow of weekly Guinness. 

Note to self: That's not quite worked out as I hoped, as the Red Rose's sweet chariot has just crashed quite spectacularly into Hadrian's Wall. Ah well, at least the Welsh were torn apart earlier today. As for my tip during this year's tournament? I'm throwing all 79p of my savings into Les Bleus. The French look fearsome, and - in my humble, and honest opinion - will conduct a two-horse battle with the Irish for this year's title. Despite tonight's defeat, I'll certainly not be dampened in my endeavour to turn up on the settee every Saturday screaming one phrase, and one phrase only...




... Swing Low!





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