GOLD BRITAIN!

This Olympics is the best I've ever seen.

Golds being won in my hometown (and a little further up the line). Two rowing Golds....
Last night it felt fantastic seeing Mo Farah breeze to Gold then, amidst a fleet of photographers, I smiled womanly stupidly as his little girl shot onto the track and jostled for daddy's attention as the glowing exhausted Olympian shone!

Jess Ennis won the hearts of the nation too. As did long jumping red head Greg Rutherford. A real showman. And why not. I too would ham it up if I'd succeeded in claiming top prize. Heptathlete Jessica was cool, so cool, until she blitzed past the line then all glory let loose.

I never thought I'd see us, team GB, win three gold medals in an unforgettable incredible 60 minutes!

And today as I go about my never ending, back breaking, knee swelling business I'll watch Murray take on Federer for....another Gold?

Come on Andy...... take away my ills and make my Sunday:)




P.S.
To celebrate I'm roasting some English beef :)

BEEF LARDED, CAKE BAKING..WE'RE READY!

There are absolutely no pictures of Andy on the web-so this is the best I could do.

For the biggest sporting event of the year......

My morning has been planned around the 13:00 hrs start of what promises to be the highlight of the BBC's Wimbledon coverage. The Final.
As the beef roasts and the cake rests fattened with strawberries, mum and me good self will be chattering non-stop about...Muzza, Fedders, the Great British Nit Wits standing in line in trepidation and precipitation waiting in anticipation for what could be, has to be, the greatest day in Wimbledon's history. Mr H. prob be tea boy.
Blimey Oh Riley matey 'tis a long long time since Fred held the Plate but now, now there's a chance a SLIM chance mind you, that the beanpoley slightly adolescently mega rich Scot will finally leave his mark. 74 years since Fred..long times to wait.

I know I've cursed Andy but it wasn't meant literally, I didn't do anything really evil to make him lose in all his Wimbledon semi-finals but this time, due to maturity and a desperate need for front room excitement/action I'm gagging for a Scottish win.

All my domestic cuties, I mean duties, are in strict must-do order. Firstly veggies, then yorkies then bake the celebratory cake... A Swiss Roll.

Come On Andy!

Mauler Murray

Plays Davydenko this afternoon on Centre...

Mother's essential outdoor activities therefore postponed.

One has one's priorities after all.

As I type Andy Murray is breezing through his match against the Lopez the Spaniard and, for once, I'm supporting the grouchy Scot.
Have I gone mental or realized that holding bad thoughts, even against a brat like Murray, is pointless and so wearing....
So m'dears I'm envisaging/ fantasizing a Murray/ Nadal final this Sunday. Would do my heart good to play each and every ball only thing is who would I give my heart to? Andrew or Rafael. A sort of Englishman or a bloody Spaniard? Who'll be on the receiving end of my Love?
Not even a question....

Kicking balls to one side for a mo...I've just this minute made a peach and raspberry trifle for the Crumblies, and will wobble my way with it up to London tomorrow on the very early train.
I have some idea of what'll happen tomorrow but am in a dark place as to the outcome. I will therefore eat and drink tonight for tomorrow I fight!

Other lovely news. About me of course. Barb on the till in Sainsburys said I was a pleasure to see. Her cherry ripe face was fit for kissing......the older I get the more showy of affection I'm becoming. Maybe next time Barb eh?

I travelled the travelator up to the car park where, in the brilliant light, I baked and panted and dropped my loaf.

The drive home was genteel I made sure of that. And after a snackette of burgers and jelly I reluctantly visited the doc, no major probs for me just Well-Woman issues. My nurse is so wonderful a plaque should be erected in her name, kind, wise and knowing as only over-the-the-hill birds can be.
I didn't want to kiss her though.

Now I must fly, have to get back on court.....
Murray hasn't shaved for quite a while you know..........

Some Do It...

Others don't!

INSPIRE!

You'd think that a meeting with Rafa Nadal in the semi-final at Roland Garros would crack the face of Andy Murray.
But no.
What we get is more of the same.
Sombre tones/sombre chops.

I know not all tennis players have the thrilling vocabulary of old timer McEnroe or the ability to have a Hill named after them (Henmania) remember that? Or the Impersonating skills of the brilliant Serb, Novak Djokovic... but I like to think a huge match with MY favourite player, Nadal, would light a fire in the Scotman's shorts.
Or a least bring on a gentle warming.

I'm being unfair to Andrew because I know, as well as you, that he isn't known for his smilies or sleekness so we can't expect this dire juggernaut of a ball basher to morph into a vroom vroom Jag.
Strength isn't everything in sport, it certainly gets you up there, up the rankings and all that, but we, the ordinary public like to be entertained and with El Rafa we get that. He sprints out on court like a well oiled flea.
What we get with Murray is a Miserablist on the drink.

AAAAAAnyway......Friday can't come quickly enough for me, neither can Saturday...... but that's a whole different ball game;)

The Spaniel beat up the Scot giving him pause for thought, but in the end, come the final whistle, at the end of the day John, the grizzly Scot won.
I have to say I was slightly impressed by his post- match interview, Murray almost looked human even managing a wee smile or two, but those smiles will vanish like Scotch mist tomorrow, for tomorrow he plays around with Djokovic...

Apparently, according to the commentators, the aforementioned Djokovic was watching the Murray/Ferrar match sitting in bed eating popcorn. Love him already.
I've had nights like that, but my corn didn't pop to the sound of tennis balls, my corn popped to the thud of bigger balls, Footballs. Each his own.

This afternoon will see me as frantic as usual, a little t.v. and a lot of cooking.
For tea, probably served just before 21:00 hrs.... Ricotta and Spinach cannelloni followed by dead easy Dutch Apple flan. Pastry filled with spiced diced apple and sweet yoghurt mix. Baked for 40. That's it.

Coming up...
Cocky Kyle, Radio 4 play, and at 4 ish, Deal or No Deal. Yesterday a lad walked away with pence, but he took the annihilation well.


Now I must fly>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Maudlin Murray

So bitter boy Murray is through to the quarter finals. And I don't care. His attitude on court is like that of a small boy who's always had his own way.
Gimme that ball or I'll tell my mum who's better than your mum anyway.

When the grim faced brat gets near to finishing off a match you can almost feel his anger at being challenged like this.
You rotten horrible pig why are you even bothering to come up against me?

His melodramatic aerobatics once over the winning line are entirely lacking in class, stardom or friendliness Throwing soggy wrist bands whilst twirling and twisting his hips around isn't an exciting thing to watch, unless the victor is smiling from ear to ear.
See this is what I can do and if you dare try and beat me I'll run to my mum screaming.

Murrays' tone of voice and his appalling lack of knowledge about what makes a sports star popular is driving me mad. OK he plays a good game. So what. Can you really imagine him walking onto centre court in a designer cardigan or wooing spectators with his on-court jests or even participating in a memorable interview. I for one loathe having the stroppy almost ill-mannered Scot representing Great Britain at tennis.

Tin Henman, Britain's previous great hope, was a posh boy who played a decent game but who had also had a charisma by-pass He is now a talking head on the BBC who for all his knowledge still bores me senseless. But he does smile occasionally. So points to Mr Henman. Murray however, never smiles. And that isn't good for either the spectators or himself. I think fans want to not only see a great player but want to be entertained aswell. And if entertaining isn't in your soul then at least have some class and balls. Murray has neither.
Tennis balls don't cut it. Jock.

His next match is tomorrow, I think, and I hope he comes out looking like he is proud to be there instead of a spoilt mummy's boy who's just had his lolly nicked.

Aye, The Wee Lad's Still There...

It's day 6 of Wimbledon and that stinker Murray is still there. This afternoon he's up against the Serb, Victor Troiki.

I heard a radio interview with some old tennis duffer who echoed Roger Federer's comments by stating that Murray could win Wimbledon..In the future.

Back to what I think, I think the Scottish ball basher with the immovable hang dog expression could get to this year's final but only on account of the spectacular absence of Rafa Nadal. If he, Murray, does walk out on to Centre Court next week for the highly likely meet with Roger Federer the new Wimbledon roof will explode. I remember when Tim Henman puffed his way to the semis, you'd have thought he'd won the damn thing already. So if Murray, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charlton Heston, does get to stand the other side of the net from whoever, it would be a remarkable day in British tennis history, and my love of all things British would be sorely tested.

Could I really support and cheer for a foreigner against on of my 'own' or would I flash my legs in a twirling kilt every time he a nailed a game?

What do you think?

I'll Be Back...Tomorrow

A fairly easy mornings work.
No King of the castle present just his doe eyed daughter wanting sausage egg and chips at 11. No prob I said, but no chips. So orf she went to the local cafe! But that was this morning, now it's the afternoon and I am resplendent in buttercup yellow and awaiting my trip to the flicks. Isn't it always old duffers that shuffle to the pics in the afternoon?....

Have been watching the tennis, and saw a rather lack lustre Sharipova lose out to the stunningly pretty Gisela of Argentina. It was a good ladies match but I think the powers that be are going to have to do something about the grunting gals. Too unladylike for my taste. Roger Federer made a comment about charisma-free Murray, he said that he would have a 'great future in tennis'. How's that for a put-down?
Am so bitterly disappointed about the absence of my favourite lad, Rafa Nadal, Wimbledon has lost its impeccable shine I feel, without the olive oil looks and bull like stamina of the fiery Spaniard. Boo Hoo to that:(

Oh well, tonight I'll escape my woes by being hugged in the magnificent arms of the Terminator which will no doubt, leave me ready to take on Lidl, Sainsburys and the a pile of washing tomorrow:)

New Horizons?

Murray wasn't worth watching.
He won but without razzamatazz. He should have beat up the rather decent American, Kendrick but all he did was sweat to the winning line, rather like Henman used to do. Dull beyond belief.
He's also moaning about the new roof.

And on this glorious Wednesday I'm wondering whether or not my knees will hold up under the pressure of polishing Henry's castle. Yesterday my other employer, the unbearably solemn Raymondo told me he's sold his house but would still like me to clean for him when he gets himself embedded in his new place. Depends on where you move to matey, I thought.
I wonder if there's some nice desk job out there...Somewhere.

I'm going to the pictures tonight to see the new Terminator film. Bugger it all.






4 days to go.

Wimbledon

Today is the first day of the greatest tennis tournament on earth and I will be at work and that is a first. But I'm going to make sure that my new Boombox (see above) is switched off and Henry's telly is switched on because no way am I going to miss it.
So as I have breakfast I'll be hoping that by the time I arrive Henry will have already fled the castle because I cannot waste precious ball time listening to his post-wine, post-weekend rants.

I mentioned just now that I had a new Boombox, otherwise known as a portable cd player/radio, it's a funny little silver thing with bug eyed speakers, I need it because I want to dance around the kitchen at Henry's. So that's another reason why I hope he's scarpered I don't wish to dance again with the dodgy legged ex-mayor.

So Wimbledon...
No Rafa Nadal just endless speculation about Andy Murray. And if the tetchy, lanky, long faced, miserable tyke does manage to get to the final it'll be unbearable.
But I'll watch.




Another big event coming up in 6 days...

Starlings For Breakfast

As I was eating breakfast...

Starlings were bombing around the bird table intent on knocking seven bells out of the fruity suet slab. It was a heart warming sight.
And as they swooped and swerved there was one particular bird which was getting to peck in a major way, the top starling I expect, the others being put firmly in their place. On neighbouring branches. But not for long. The gang then swerved and dived leaving the branches trembling in their wake while the main man continued to dig out bits of berry then swiftly wiping and swiping his greasy beak on the table ledge.

Watching this exuberant rock and roll dance has put me in a better mood, why I'm almost half crazed with joy because I know that come the summer and winter I'll be spending an awful lot of time enjoying the boisterous slap stick fun of the 'bully birds'. And hopefully the gentle scooping up of peanuts and seeds by pigeons, sparrows, tits and robins.

On the menu today: Fish, chips, peas tomatoes. Unsure about pud, possibly a fruit salad. Yes, I like the sound of that.

I see Andy Murray has won something...And is now second favourite to win Wimbledon which starts next week. I'm not saying another word...All I hope is that my favourite player, the bright-as-a-kite Rafael Nadal is fit enough to play.
I get in such a lather over my boys.

Time for work, but before I head out I'll gaze stupidly at the bird table.

Night Time

Some night time thoughts in no particular order:

Andy Murray has been taught a lesson by Rafa, now limp off lad and leave the game to the big boys.


Forgive my wobbly writing, I'm riding a great big sick inducing roller coaster, my eyes are struggling to take in the blurred landscape as I ride high and wide, my head has given up trying to keep calm, has given up trying to make sense of any of it and my heart has just stopped.
But dear God how the sumptuous waves and dips give me the perfect sweetest ride.

Goodnight.

Andy and Rafa

Andy Murray is due on centre court today if the rain holds off. The grouchy Scot is due to play Rafa Nadal so it's adios Senor Murray!
Watched him play a fantastic match against the Frenchman Gasquet on Monday night, (see pic above) and although I was in and out so to speak, I saw glimpses of a fighter in Andy Murray and I admire that, even in him. But todays match against the spaniard will be a totally different kettle of fish because Rafa aint no Frenchman. So I hope to see most of it, if the weather gods allow.
What have I been doing apart from watching the occasional tennis match?
Well I had a glorious day yesterday, went to the seaside in the blazing heat, ate cockles, drank cider and felt so happy I didn't want it to end.
But it did of course so today I'll cook a bit, watch Andy and Rafa and talk very little.

Smiler and Grumpy

England v Trinidad and Tobago
BBC1
Tonight 10:20 p.m.
It's another friendly, you know like our match against the States. That game however was soporific, dull and quite disappointing, even though England won 2-0.
I'm hoping for fireworks from the boys tonight.

Talking of combustibles.
Fabio Capello will have to a word with Wayne Rooney, because although Rooney is undoubtedly talented, his temper is in need of some kind of training though. I don't know what's in store for the lad but if he can keep his slate clean and his rages under control he should do well.
The never ending story about who's fit for the captaincy is sending me bonkers. Davey B. he of the unquestionable skill and fabulous smile has the armband for tonights match but who'll be wearing it in future is anyones guess.

Euro 2008 starts on Saturday 7th June and we're not in it. It's unbelievable. I suppose being a football lover I'll have to support someone so I'm plumping for er...Spain or Italy. Can't support the Germans likewise the Dutch, anyway I think both those teams have had enough glory.
But what about Croatia, Romania and the bloody French?
Oh, I wish we were in it. because I want to be able to dress up in my shorts and footie shirt and throw missiles around the room.

Oh well, Wimbledon's just around the corner, that'll give me something to cheer about. But.
Who will represent us, the English?
Nobody.
Nobody who has any chance of even getting through the first round yet alone to the finals. The Scots have the lanky very Scottish misery guts Andy Murray, and he's made it quite clear thank you very much that he'll always be playing for Scotland and not England. Wow! I'm devastated, how will we cope?

Never in the history of first class tennis has anyone been as sour faced and ungracious as the kid from the top bit of Britain. I know he's in the top ten and all that but he should take a few lessons from some of the brighter more grown up tennis players, i.e. be consistent, be nice and smile a bit more, he knows nothing about how to work an audience and knows even less about making people like you. So I wish he'd go back to whatever it is they do in Scotland, shoot haggis or something isn't it?

Oh, I don't care.
My money will be on Rafael Nadal as it was last year and it might help Murray if he studied Nadal very closely, because the Spaniard is not only a first class player, he's a first class entertainer. People look forward to watching him walk out on court, they gasp and dribble over his bright clothes and fantastic muscles, he thrills with his exciting passionate game and he knows how to please the paying crowd.
Murray on the other hand reminds me of Tim Henman, couldn't care less about the public, doesn't give a hoot about his image or what tennis fans think, all in all he's a bad egg.

When real stars come out to play, the crowd not only witness great skill they get treated to a performance too.
Murray glowers and shuffles around like a schoolboy then spits in the publics face, especially the English.
Nadal however just gets on with winning the game, he is a supreme tennis player and a great showman and most tennis fans adore him. Andy Murray? Nah on all counts.

So to sum up.
Football, tennis, screaming, hurling abuse at referees, umpires and lack lustre players. Wishing I could be there. Sucking on strawberries and slurping beer. Looks like I'm in for a cracking noisy summer. Oh, Goody.