Wednesday, September 07, 2005

If You Wanted The Sky I Would Write Across The Sky In Letters That Would Soar A Thousand Feet High “To Sir, With Love.” 

A lazy day around the house, skimming through football books, sitting out in the yard, then coming back in because it was too hot. We sat in the kitchen talking and Girlfriend did jigsaws with Leanne, who tried to teach me in the ways of the cryptic crossword. I got these:

“Athlete elated to come in second.” (6,2)
“Seafood gives strength, it’s said.” (6)
“Rector has arranged it’s concert.” (9)

Charlie took Juggling Protégé for a ride up Sutton Bank on her motorbike, and as requested, I learnt to play and sing “To Sir With Love” for that evening’s entertainment. It wasn’t great because it’s quite tricky, unable to quite make up it’s mind which key to be in. Still, it can’t have been worse than England’s performance against Northern Ireland.

We sat up late again drinking vodka and somehow the mood was a bit subdued. That sad “we’ve got to go home tomorrow” feeling seeped through proceedings.
We sang Lucky Stars again too. I was hoping that we might have had a well rehearsed, fully orchestrated rendition which I’d be able to record and upload for enjoyment here, but it didn’t quite work out that way. Next time maybe.

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