Sunday, 14 October 2007

rugger b*gger, they're through

Since blogging on Thursday I've listened to a brass band, made smoothies, sorted felt, visited the theatre, had a pizza and a curry in the same day, got a little squiffy, stood on a football touch line and cleaned the house. I've also learned that England are through to the Rugby World Cup.

Why is this significant, you may ask? Well, the final of said inconsequential tournament just happens to start at the same time as my party. This is not good news. I am expecting 40 or so gentleman at my party. That means there will be 40 or so grumbling, resistant gentleman at my party if I don't arrange something so that they can watch the final. It also means that there will be 40 or so stressed friends of the female persuasion, telling off their partners because I've decided, somewhat ridiculously it seems, to celebrate my birthday on such a momentous and masculine occasion.

I have decided to remain stoic about this. G will organise a television and there is a separate room at the hall where it can be installed and half of the people coming to my party are welcome to watch it while drinking and doing whatever they do when they watch it. Thinking about it, this will result in greater capacity for dancing around handbags and potentially a little bit of stupendously diva-like karaoke.

The eyebrows have been plucked and their hair has been 'done'. The nibbles are ordered and the wine is being delivered tomorrow night. Progress is being made on all fronts. I just can't believe that by this time next week, it will all be over and I'll be in my pyjamas with a raft of happy memories and sore feet.


LittleBrownDog said...

Don't worry - we'll all be able to get into the party mood, dancing round handbags and warming up the karaoke machine while they're otherwise engaged. (PS I play the euphonium better than I sing, by the way. I only found that out on Saturday...)

Jools said...

Hum. You are far too good a wife/stoic person. The inconsequential sport thing would lead to a hissy fit in this household followed by an Its The Rugby Or Me conversation (or more likely an Its The Rugby Or Me long silence). Leave them behind! However, if you persist in allowing this you can borrow our smallest tv with the worst picture.

hausfrau said...

Husband and I both loved this entry! Plan to dance while he shrieks at the telly: their chance to do some male bonding I reckon. Just don't make us sing.