OK. You all know I am a sandwich short of a picnic. Well … I did the ultimate bad girl thing by picking up a ball that bounced right in front of me at one of the rugby matches on Saturday and ran up the pitch into the scrum. The lads could not have been nicer. They gave me another oval ball (weird things but lovely to hold) and let me throw it in. The assistant referee sent me off and he didn’t even give me a red card. Perhaps they don’t have those in Rugby. It is a real contact sport and I love it. I should have been a boy and then I would have played all my life. Unfortunately the knees are knackered and I am past my prime but I still crave the weave and tackle. And the scrum yum which is my own fantasy world.
What they didn’t know is that I broke my right big toe at Christmas and I am still feeling the pain. Who cares? Not me! Rugby players get all sorts of injuries and they take it without a grumble or moan and I am made from the same mould and proud to be so.
They are an awful good crowd; great craic and all taller than me.
Right! So I am four foot eleven inches and a half. Everyone apart from the kids is taller than me. There are peeps over six feet tall for goodness sake. I came home with a creak in my neck from looking up at them.
Apparently some of the guys thought I was going to streak. I must hoke out that old Ray Stevens song for next time. “Ethel … you get your clothes on”.
Game as they are I did tell them that gravity has taken its toll and things have gone south. They don’t mind. That’s why they are my honeys. They take us as they find us and all in good spirit.
I had such a great day. I wouldn’t have been standing where the ball landed except that Tickles … her with the baby grow … had to go for a smoke.
As a reformed puffer myself I am always giving off to her. May as well talk to the dog and ask him to stop lying with his crown jewels on the pillow.
Spring has sprung and I have a new lease of life. Oh dear! That ain’t necessarily a good thing because I do get carried away. The husband lives in hope that I do get carried away. I wonder why that is?
Even though I ran on for all of a minute I am feeling the burn today. That Rugby playing takes some stamina. I saw a lad with a black eye. Guess what? He didn’t lie down and cry like the babies who play football. He got up and played on as if it never happened.
To say I admire them is an understatement. Tiger used to play prop forward back in the day. I like to tackle him when he least expects it. He is a tall guy too. I only reach up to his armpit. I may be wee but I am wicked.
I am getting my own kit and will stand on the side-lines ready to make a conversion. One can dream.
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