Thursday 24 July 2008

The first week of 2008 in which I haven't played netball and the first week since May that I haven't had four days of netball matches, but somehow it's been one of the busiest weeks for a while! I think I was overly optimistic about what I could achieve in the absence of netball. Alternatively I was anxious about the prospect of a netball-free week and triple-booked myself to ensure that boredom would not be an option. Frankly I am exhausted, not to mention sated with my boyfriend's amazing lasagne verde. He has been slaving over the hot stove and several saucepans of meat, pasta, bechamel sauce and herby, tomato goo for two hours, but I'm the one who claims to feel tired!

On Sunday we rose at 6.15am and left the house by 7am, dressed from top to toe in my employer's corporate kit, brandishing our logo-d backpacks containing sublock and water (disgracefully we declined to use the logo-d bottles with which we had also been issued). Forty minutes later we were at the sports' ground, surrounded by approximately two hundred footballers, aged eight, nine or ten year old. One of the two hundred was female. She played in goal and was rather good. By 2pm the fresh-faced Evertonians impressive concentration and rare, commendable self-belief had paid off and they were taking the winners' shield back to England after beating the formidable team of stocky young men from Glasgow Rangers on penalties. The consistency of both teams' performances during the tournament set them apart, and above, all of the others.

It was fun to be in the sun and to have contact with islanders and mainlanders who I may not otherwise meet.

On Sunday evening we took a well-earned rest from cooking and treated ourselves to dinner at our local Italian. It was tasty and incredibly relaxing. We indulged in the wine that we'd forsaken on Saturday evening in advance of the 6.15am start. It's what the weekend is all about: quality time together, plus wine and idle chat intended to set the world to rights.

Monday morning wasn't too awful as at least the weather is glorious. However, on leaving the house I did almost walk into a six-foot pile of stinking rubbish bags, a visible and certainly smell-able symptom of the manual workers' strike over the paltry 3% pay rise they have been offered by the Guernsey States of Deliberation (civil servants whose pay rise is above RPI). I have every sympathy with the manual workers and would have taken my own rubbish to the States itself had my boyfriend not informed me that the last person to do so had been imprisoned! So rubbish on the streets it was, but only for a day. The strikers returned to work on Tuesday. The ro-ro ramps at the harbour brought containers of food ashore again so that the empty shelves of Marks and Spencer were soon filled with organic this and hand-reared that. We may have gone out and bought the food, but we haven't forgotten the strikers.

On Tuesday evening we played badminton with some of my colleagues. I was horrified to discover how rusty my racquet-technique has become during a few months' absence from the Badminton Halls. It was a really enjoyable evening and I picked up a few tips from a better player. At the end of the session I played a singles' match against another better player which he won 25-23; I was almost happy with that.

Yesterday I met a friend at lunchtime and we sat on the pier with her cute baby daughter who is almost five months' old. She is being christened next month. We chatted about fancy dress outfits and the outrageous charge of £800 to take a baby on a cruise (unsurprisingly, they're not going). At 1pm I returned to the office while my friend clipped a parasol over the pram and set off on a walk in the brilliant sunshine.

Last night we played badminton again. The indoor courts are unbelievably and uncomfortably hot so we strolled home afterwards for much-needed showers before collapsing into dreamy sleep.

Today I met another friend at lunchtime. We chatted about babies, christenings, cruises and fancy dress outfits. I am envious of her imminent holiday, cruising from Italy to Dubrovnik, Greek islands, Turkey and no doubt other exciting places. Nevertheless I am determined to save up for a skiing trip in January 2009 and, in the meantime, to enjoy our overnighter in Jersey next month.

Tomorrow evening I will be quaffing one or two glasses of wine courtesy of my employer. I don't even have to wear a logo-d polo shirt or baseball cap. Then I'll be dressing up as Daphne from Scooby Doo and hooking up with Shaggy (my boyfriend in a wig and close-fitting brown trousers) to attend a fancy dress bus party. The only way to approach these occasions is drunk and open-minded.

Except on Saturday we need to be sober enough for our friends' wedding...


SC