As I mentioned yesterday, Saturday we went to watch a game of football. Dan’s quite involved with his friend’s team, even though he doesn’t play himself, and often goes to their Saturday games. This was the first time I’ve seen a game of football live, irl, since my brother used to play when we were kids. It was decidedly a lot better.
It was an amazing place, and an amazing day. Sunny, chilly, crisp. Behind us was Cleeve Hill, and in the distance we could see some of the mountains on the border to Wales. My first impression of the game was that it should really be called “synchronised shouting” instead of football, and my concluding comment as we made our way to the pub after the game was that it was “almost as good as ice hockey”.
(Still, to restore the balance I’m spending today wearing my ice hockey team’s Swedish Champions t-shirt from this spring. I’m not going to abandon my roots just like that!)