At this stage I have nothing in particular to blog about other than the fact that over the last year or two I have rediscovered my love of watching the Carlton Blues kick the lily-white arses of other Australia rules football teams. This quiet little bogan enjoyment has been growing in me for a few reasons ... my brother who was living on the North Coast, but now lives in Albury watches at precisely the same time, as does my elderly father in Melbourne who has joined the modern world and has learned how to text.
We three sit at out respective TV sets in our three different locations on the Australian map. We three TEXT in awe and AMAZEMENT when little Jeffy Garlett moves his little lightning feet through another man's legs and pops out the other side with a little goal and slaps the little arse of little Eddie in a manly and heterosexual (?) fashion in excitement. We gasp by SMS when Judd does his quite-spectacular feats of balance and poise under inscrutable pressure!!
It has been many years since my dad had any excitement on the Carlton Blues front.
The goal goes in - the texting says *WAITE!*
Last week the Blues beat Sydney in Sydney. The first time in a long time. It was bloody wet and the Blues slogged it out and WON!!
I went to bed a happy gent, my wife laughing quietly at my excitement. 40 minutes later I received a text which woke me up, from dad - "Here we come" I smiled, imagining Dad walking around the big house I grew up in with a grin on his face, not wanting to go to bed.
40 minutes later I got another one - "Premiership here we come!" I had stopped smiling by this point because I was tired and that was the second time he'd woken me up.