And life carries on...
Stupid f*ck wank has been handed in. Whether I will be receiving a "competent" vote, will remain to be seen. At the end, I didn't even consider my answers, and I didn't overthink them, so... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there - in a month's time.
Other than that, I was quite despondent yesterday morning after the Boks' exit at the World Cup. I'm not going to go into it too deeply, I'm no rugby "kenner", but, when a ref makes that many mistakes, shouldn't the line judges point out a few? At the end of the day though, despite the "experience" of our team and the majority of possession and territory, the simple fact of the matter is, we could not get over the try line.
What makes it all the sadder, is that, Sunday morning, I was at the hallowed grounds of Newlands to watch it. A very good friend of mine won tickets to Bok Town. Essentially, you could pitch your tent on the pitch (hahahaha), sleep over after consuming much alcohol and as many Spur burgers as you could stomach. The Not-so-ex and I arrived around 16:30 on Saturday afternoon, pitched The Monster's tent (without too much trouble) and then proceeded to buy an SA wig, a jersey for me, and double brandy and cokes - as you do.
We even had our photo taken with Bokkie! Crouching! All very festive.
I do, however, now hate blow up mattresses. Seriously, they are k*k! Sunday morning saw me queue for 20 minutes to get a cuppa joe and some tea for the Not-so-ex, during which time, the Not-so-ex packed up everything, bless him. He had to rush off to work after the game.
So, the game is on, my heart is pounding, I'm shouting loud enough that our Boys can hear me in New Zealand, I'm wearing my wig and my top, EVERYTHING... and they're not scoring. I don't think I've ever smoked as many cigarettes at one game as Sunday morning.
And then... the heartbreaking result. We're out. At first there was complete disbelief, almost like I expected the referee (who I do hope has indigestion until next year) to say, nah, boys, there's five more minutes. The grounds were quiet, the other bok supporters on this night out hardly even spoke to each other. They just made their way to the gates, with their camping gear, completely dispondent. I had to wipe away a few tears, myself. The Not-so-ex completely understood, though, England was knocked out the day before, although he doesn't get quite as emotional as I.
After getting home, it took me a further 20 minutes, and then I accepted it.
Its funny, this patriotic thing. On Friday night we went for sundowners in Campsbay with the Not-so-ex, one of his neighbours and the long-lost-sister. Afterwards we went back to our house for a braai. Both neighbours asked the long-lost-sister which team she supports - she has English and Australian citizenship, and they could not understand or accept her answer of, "I really don't know". Of course, I don't understand it at all, but then, my blood is green and I was raised on braaivleis, sunshine and rugby, so what I can understand, is someone else not really caring if their country's rugby team win or not.
Its still sad, though. Hell, it would have been nice to be the first country to retain that trophy. And I'm pretty sure Danie Rossouw is not so popular even with himself right now.
On a more positive note, though, last night we slept on our new foam mattress for the first time and I slept like a log! Was fantastic. (Although, being all hayfevered up could have helped with the sleeping).
And that's that, for now. Tune in soon - I'm gonna try and do these more often now.
