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Speaking of the post below on Scots futbah, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it over the decanter, but this year the eldest gel is playing for her school soccer team (she’s the goalie).

They had a game yesterday, which they won 2-1, and weather permitting, were scheduled to have another this afternoon.

One might think that a normal, healthy, non-brain damaged 8th grader would see to it that her kit remained together and intact during that 24 hour period.  One would be mistaken.  Somehow or other, as we tried to get everything cleaned and packed back up last night and this morning, it was discovered, amidst much Sturm und Drang, that the gel’s cleats had vanished.  Not in her room.  Not in the laundry room.  Not in the car.  Nowhere.

Thus, the following email exchange has me still picking the tiles out of my forehead from where I banged it against the keyboard:

From Coach to Soccer Parents:  It’s misting… but we’re still going to play. Bring an umbrella if you want.  See you this afternoon. Game is set for 3:30.  Thanks.

From Mrs. Robbo to Coach:  Hi,  Can Eldest Gel still play goalie without cleats? She only has her sneakers. We misplaced them last night. 

From Coach to Mrs. Robbo:  She left her cleats here… they are by the 4th grade classroom. I told her this morning when she told me she couldn’t find them. I’ll make sure she grabs them.

All I can say is that it’s a darn good thing parents get paid so much to put up with this sort of nonsense.

What? What’s that? Hey…WAIT a minute…………

Apparently, the Scots have been booting about the futbah longer than previously imagined:

“Organised” football was being played in castle courtyards in Scotland more than 500 years ago, experts have found.

Documents show a set of accounts from the court of King James IV indicating he paid two shillings for a bag of “fut ballis” in April 1497.

The world’s oldest surviving football dates back to 1540 and was found behind panelling in Stirling Castle.

The Scottish Football Museum said it appeared the game evolved rather than was invented.

Richard McBrearty, the museum curator, told BBC Radio Scotland’s Good Morning Scotland programme it appeared rules were emerging in the 15th and 16th Century, hundreds of years before football was codified at Cambridge University in 1848.

Of course, being a thorough-going American, the only time soccer doesn’t reduce me to tears of boredom is when it’s being written about by George MacDonald Fraser.  Nonetheless, I thought the history neat.  According to the article, Mary Queen of Scots herself watched a match just after Langside.

Yesterday afternoon, whilst waiting for the light on a downtown street corner, I found myself unavoidably listening to a young, professionally dressed woman engaged in a rayther loud cellphone conversation.

As I stood there, I suddenly realized that this young person was repeatedly using the phrase “peace of mind” when she meant “a piece of my mind.”  The tone and content of the conversation made the mistake quite plain.

I’ve heard plenty of malapropisms in my puff, but this one struck my fancy and set me to thinking of all kinds of nonsense along the lines of “I gave her peace of mind through a piece of my mind – pass the peas, please.”

Yes, this is how I amuse myself.

Greetings, my fellow port-swillers!

Ol’ Robbo has never been much of a morning person.  Nonetheless, in the domestic economy of the port-swiller residence, I am the first one required to stagger out of bed each day.

It’s never, ever easy for me, but some days are far more difficult than others.  Take this morning.  Could there be a more seductive siren song urging one to roll over and go right back to sleep than the combination of warm blankets, a cool, dark room and the sound of rain loudly drumming on the roof overhead?  I think not.  I think not.

I confess that there are times when the only motivation to keep from giving in to such temptation is the grim satisfaction of knowing that I am shortly going to be spreading my state of bleary-eyed malcontent amongst the rest of the household.   Misery, as they say, loves company.  It may not be the most charitable of approaches, but it works.

 

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