Unless you've living in a cave (so Osama Bin Laden basically and the rumour is even he's having HD installed) you'll have heard that the World Cup is on.
I've had to have all the England World Cup fixtures and possible fixtures once the group stage is over, on our kitchen calendar for months. I can't risk a clash of social event and football match so early preparations were wise. I think I'm some kind of wife to look up the dates and times of the matches from the internet and write them all down but that could just be me blowing my own Vuvuzela!
I'm not as fond of football as I used to be. Not since I discovered cricket. A much more civilised game where both teams confusingly wear white and they have proper breaks for food! Genius. Football is not and never has been, a gentlemen's game. You only need to look at the collection of adulterers, felons and granny fudgers that make up the England team to realise that.
But there I was Saturday night. Family gathered. Beer chilled. Chinese ordered. And at the end of the match hopes, slightly, dashed. Well if not dashed certainly slipping through our, and Rob Green's, fingers.
The England result, like many others, didn't match the carefully filled in wall chart my husband has lovingly prepared and swears by (or swears at!) And if we don't win our group the wall chart and my calendar preparations have been as useful as sending a BP loyalty points card to Barrack Obama!
We'll meet Germany in the knockout stage, (not matching the wall chart at all) and if we get past them (unlikely given their first game performance, and ours, but not impossible), our quarter final, according to my kitchen calendar, will be on the Saturday afternoon of a friends 3 year old daughters birthday party! All that scouring the internet and careful planning from me and for what?
I get a social event/football match clash anyway and England go out in the quarter finals on penalties like we always do!
At least this time they'll be cake while they're doing it......