Time.

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Its all a bit sports mad at the moment. Apparently they played the Wimbledon finals the other day, but it seemed to pass without a murmur. I was in my own sports buffet last Sunday. I played a game of hockey at 9.00am at a locale about an hour’s drive away from my home. So I had to get up early on a rainy Sunday after a 40th birthday party where the wine was decanted (and not to hide its cheapness, but to improve on its expensiveness). Very difficult to pass up good red wine. Very difficult to avoid a hangover when your alarm is set for 6.30am. We won. Actually, we haven’t lost a game for 2 seasons. Drawn a few matches, but not lost one. What do you think of our new uniforms? Pretty slimming, huh?

So, played a game, then dashed off via the holiday house for lunch and then back home for BurberKing to pack to get to the airport. Dropped him off and then had several hours to wait until Le Tour de France came on, and another several hours for the World Cup Final. Needless to say, I missed most of both. Save for the finishes. And that headbutt.

I do not really understand the headbutt. Any headbutt. I would be more inclined to give someone a quick slap. A head butt is just so… so…. so…. English.

I am sure the cyclists are grateful for the rest days on Le Tour. And so am I. It means I can get to bed at a decent hour. Unlike tonight. The stage finishes in Dax tonight. I once went to a gorgeous wedding in Dax. There was an oyster bar surrounded by Frenchmen. And me.

You know what I miss most about France? That you can buy foie gras. BurberKing misses Le Tour.

The World Game.

I wish I could have headbutted one of them.

Adieu Zizou...