The Six Nations rugby tournament kicked off yesterday, with England beating Italy 36-11 and Ireland beating France 30-21. I’m not a big fan of rugby, which is one reason I will probably never be allowed to become a South African citizen. While England top the table after their triumph, the performance was apparently nothing to write home about, according to those in the know; which will save on stamps, if nothing else.
I just found out that the Irish coach is called Declan Kidney. What an amusing name. There’s a gag about taking the p*ss in there somewhere, but I’m too hot to find it right now.
Interestingly, the tournament sponsor, RBS, has made the weekend news for all the wrong reasons, after it emerged that they intend using £1bn of the £20bn that the UK taxpayers gave them, to pay some bonuses. I wonder how much they are paying for the Six Nations sponsorship rights? If it’s true that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, then maybe the rugby money was wasted. Just give your staff some bailout cash and you name will be all over the newspapers. The cost to you? Nowt.
Meanwhile, on the less snowy side of the Atlantic, the England cricket team were also playing. In a remarkable feat, everyone on the England team managed a half century. In total.
Fortunately, I’m not a great follower of cricket either (more negative marks on the citizenship form) so I’m not as hurt as some people may have been.
We’re off to see (and hopefully hear) Arno Carstens at Kirstenbosch later this afternoon. It’s dangerously hot in the shade, even hotter in the sun and yesterday evening’s welcome, if rather short-lived, torrential downpour is just a memory. Cape Town’s Facebook and Twitter were ablaze (not literally) with comments about heat and storms last night, in an attempt to emulate their UK counterparts’ recent fixation with all things snow. Honestly, you’d think that these people had never seen weather before.
Anyway, having carefully considered all the options, I think that cold beer is probably the best means of assisting my ailing homeostatic functions. And in a effort to avoid drunk blogging this evening, I’m going to hide the keyboard as soon as I have finished this post.
(Note to sober self: the keyboard is behind the sofa).