… Sunday morning?
Well, to be honest, I worked through much of it, but from the wrong end.
03:34 when I finished what I was doing last night.
I was a little wrong with my estimate of what time it was when I woke up. I reckoned about 10:40 – it was in fact … errrr … 12:41.
I must have been really tired and even though this is what Sundays are for, I still felt bad about having missed the morning.
I was having a lovely dream though – I was driving a minibus through some forests on a main road through some mountains and explaining to the passengers that these were the Bluegrass areas of Kentucky (work that one out). We were being chased – not in a threatening way – by two cars, one of which was an old metallic mid-blue Peugeot 403 estate, and they overtook us on a sharp right-hand bend, crossing well over the solid white line in the centre of the road, which was divided into one lane for vehicles going my way, and the other way had two lanes coming towards me. This bit – the overtaking – I was watching from the air – maybe 500 feet up. Strangely, we were all driving on the left-hand side of the road as in the UK, so I dunno what all of that might be telling me.
After that, I had just enough time to grab something to eat and then off to Cellule, near Riom, to watch the football.
But I shan’t be saying anything about the football in this column this evening.
As Ron Atkinson once said, “I never comment on referees and I’m not going to break the habit of a lifetime for that prat”.
Or as Jim Finks, manager of the New Orleans Saints once said, after a match against the St Louis Cardinals in 1986, “I’m not allowed to comment on the lousy officiating”.
We’ll just leave it at that.
But there’s a fruit stall at the side of the road just outside Combronde and I noticed that it was having a sale of apples. I’m getting low on them and so a 3kg bag of Red Gala apples for €2:50 seemed like a bargain, especially as the way fruit prices are at the moment.
So that’s Sunday dealt with. Monday is another day.
