Things are slightly strange in Gert Cottage, with Jimmy currently being a man of leisure. He really needs the break; just looking at some of our holiday photos: never the most photogenic anyway, he looks spectacularly awful. Not one to relax, his idea of 'a break' is my idea of hyperactivity. Last week he repainted the hall, stairs and landing; next week, in my absence, he is doing the back reception (dining/computer) room. much preparation is needed, so I have spent most of the weekend sorting stuff, and we are now at the shifting stage. It all takes time. And energy.
It's nice to have a bit of football as a distraction. I think, anyway. I don't think I ever commented on the minor fact that United are through to the FA Cup Final. With the deepest respect to Watford, I never really had the major colly-wobbles about that one. I'm not complacent or arrogant, and certainly not when it comes to knock-out games, and my intelligence was contradicting my gut feeling. I was very disappointed when Chelsea beat Blackburn, and not just out of affection (huge!) for Mark 'Sparky' Hughes. I had a ghostly ghastly premonition, my blood running cold, at the realisation that Chelsea are on course for an unprecedented quadruple.
Oh, my boys like to suffer pain and suffering. Can you imagine the years, the decades, I have had to endure this? I have already blogged a bit - not enough - about the Old Trafford game against Milan. To take an early lead, to surrender it so sloppily, to feel my heart breaking. And the joy when they equalise, and end up winners .on the night. And then to go through the same thing again yesterday. Knowing that Chelsea were up against it at Stamford Bridge, and to see us struggling so badly at Everton - granted, never an easy away fixture. Then, first good reliable unglamorous John O'Shea gives up hope; then Phil Neville - of all people - gets an own goal (I wonder how much stick he got from Evertonians...and from Manchester United's currently injured club captain, er, Gary Neville...!). And then, when it was almost over, ex-Evertonian Wayne Rooney scores a spectacular goal. Sky commentators talking like it was all over...oh please, it doesn't take an accountant to work out that Chelsea are five points behind with nine to play for. Stealing shamelessly from Skuds - I can take the despair. Its the hope I can't stand.. Oh we have such an easy run in - Manchester City away, when the form book goes out the window; Chelsea away, which may or may not be the crunch decider. And, finally West Ham, who have shown a good run of form of late, and may well end up surviving if they win at Old Trafford.
And we have the return leg in Milan, when we find out whether we are set for the first ever all-English European Cup Final. Or not...See what I mean about the hope; it's unbearable.
It is strange sharing so much more time with Jimmy. It's nice that he's a lot less stressed out, and especially good that he is barely drinking at all. It's nice he sends me out to work with a lunch box, and creme eggs craftily inserted as an incentive to investigate my fruit bag! But we are back to the TV vs music conflict. It would be nice if he checked about putting the TV on while I have music playing. A couple of years ago he put the TV on. Pointedly, I said "I'm putting my earphones on," and he reassured me that my music didn't interfere with his TV. He knows it annoys me. He knows that the irregular noise of loud action films especially annoys me. It's a stupid thing to row about, but then, if I put headphones on, apparently, I'm like a zombie or a space alien. Or else, such as today, he moans because it then means he can't hear the music - silly me htought he was watching Arsenal-Fulham. I can't win, can I?
I have now upgraded to Thunderbird 2.0 (email programme), which seems like a downgrade to me. The spell-check no longer works, and it doesn't automatically consign junk to junk folders, so I keep being tempted by enormous cheques from the Republic of Benin.
And I keep forgetting it's April, because the daytime temperatures are hotter than July. That having been said, it is now very much Election Time of year, although not in London, and I know that mini heatwaves at this time are not unprecedented and may well be followed by miserable weather later.
And just for good measure, I have discovered the delights of Rapidshare, via the Yahoo Group, Operashare. I wasn't unaware before, but at first I had connectivity problems, then I found the free service frustrating in its vagaries. I then considered that the premium service isn't at all pricey. Yesterday, an 1981 Otello from Buenos Aires, today a 1968 Contes D'Hoffmann from San Antonio. Next, maybe a Pelleas with Shirtless, LHL and the lovely Gerald.
