This Sporting Life
Disclaimer: Three Mexican Stereotypes are included in this post
(Only two are my fault)
A couple of things have happened in the last couple of weeks. You may have noticed I’ve not been posting as much. But it annoys me when bloggers blog about not posting as much, and why. So I won’t on the whole, go there. Thanks to those who contacted me to check that I wasn’t trapped under something heavy or kidnapped by banditos, anyway.
But one of those things that has happened in the last week or so is worth mentioning. Meeester had a sporting accident. A sporting accident which had him off work and by my side here in Misssy M HQ, also known as the House of the Flying Martinis. Also known as my office, during business hours.
Meeester has been asking me why I’ve not been writing about his sporting accident on the Misssives. So here it is. He will love that I have referred to his injury as “a sporting accident.”
Meeester and my sister, Misssy A, are keen badminton players. Misssy A seems to be content with playing every Monday night and thrashing the local competition roundly with the minimum of fuss. Meeester however, will take every chance to play badminton that is offered to him, and given that he is chums with the PE teacher at his school, those opportunities seem to be every break and lunchtime of every single day. He has been known to stand looking at his reflection in a mirror with his badminton racket, practicing moves. Cynics would say this has more to do with admiration than tactics.
Those cynics would be right.
It was only a matter of time before pride came before a fall. And as my sister put it, Meeester is the only person who lunges for shuttlecocks like former Scotland goalkeeper and national bespectacled (stop it….!) hero, Jim Leighton.
One ripped calf muscle later and Meeester was be-crutched and housebound signed off by the doctor for a week. Day one, he was immobile, day two he was shuffly but now able to interfere in Misssy’s working day, Day Three he was pottering about the house with my Papa’s old walking stick pretending to be my Mexican maid, Concepciόn.
“Meeesus M, I clean your computer. Eeet clean now.” he’d say, brandishing a duster.
“Meeesus M, I read your book… “ he’d say, hovering over me, “I like eet. I make few changes. Hope you no mind….Make hero Mexican. Eet better now…”
By Thursday Meeester is back at work, with walking stick. Securely wedged where sun don’t shine.
The badminton world weeps for its loss.
Many thanks to all of you who gave me your comments on your favourite Christmas films on the previous post, by the way. What an overwhelming response! Anyone would have thought you were forced. Oh, that’s right…you were.
If you’ve yet to comment, you can still do it- all opinions count. Some quite surprising films have made it in there….go here to make your views known. And listen out on the 21st December for the results on the radio.
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