The world cup is on, if you missed that, and since I am married to a sports nut, this has brought lots of strangers and semi-strangers to our living room wearing St Georges cross-decorated shirts, scarfs (yes, even in summer) and a keg of Mark’s special beer, brewed for this very occasion over the last couple of weeks.
I usually joke about it, and pretend to be over-the-top cross about this invasion of our quiet house; but honestly I don’t mind, and it makes me pleased somehow to see them downstairs. Watson, now that he has recovered from his ordeal, has lots of people to investigate now.
Watson is a welcoming sort that only object to one person’s invasion of his territory; the postman’s when he drops the mail in our mail slot. Otherwise he’s excited by new people and wants to investigate all of them. Lady, the cocker spaniel is more reserved, as always, and adopt a lady-like aloofness and retreats to her basket until the hullabaloo dies down. George… well, he is a cat. He doesn’t care.
Still, these times when the house suddenly focus around the telly and the viewers of it, is a sort of quiet time despite the din in the house. I can sit up here in the office and just put on my headphones and do silly stuff like playing computer games.
Nowadays, I don’t even have to pretend to be particularly interested in football. I can go down and have a peek when the noise below says there’s been a goal, for either team. Either it’s jubilant, or it’s indignant, whichever it is I can go down and have a look.
This evening I’ve written a short story. I had taken a break from writing stuff, but I suddenly felt like writing something, and just spit out a short story. It’s not very good since it is a first draft, but I can probably polish into something decent in editing.
So, the world cup has given me my writing mojo back. That’s something, isn’t it?