/ General
What I Learnt This Week: Having a child and Super Bowl fever
1) What you sometimes need is a child. Heading out to examine Rosso Italiano's brunch and new chef, I enjoyed a thoroughly hearty Italian meal, full of lasagna, cannelloni, polenta, salami and Italian breads. As I was merrily reaching for my glass of wine, I suddenly realized I was completely surrounded by Italians - ‘a very good sign for the food', I thought, ‘I have truly stumbled into a promising little haven'. Only then, food in belly and wine imbibed, did I notice the sheer volume of children that seemed to overflow from almost every table - excluding my own and another inhabited by a rather awkward looking couple. Sitting with a friend amidst this sea of infants, I wondered if everyone was looking at me and silently judging my barren womb (figuratively of course - I, as a male, am not possessed of a womb). Are there certain places the childless should not venture? But I don't want to be restricted from certain luncheons and parties! What I need is for a friend to have a child RIGHT NOW, one that I can borrow to attend functions where the grub is great, so I don't stick out like a baboon's bare bottom. Like in About a Boy - perhaps I'll even use the little brat to meet Rachel Weisz.
2) Smoking is bad. Yes, it's an obvious no no but a recent gym experience really brought it home. As some of you may know, my esteemed colleague Stephanie Sherrill is running the Jinqiao 8K. After many pushes and pulls, I have also agreed to run said 8K - despite not having run any significant distance since the age of 16 - and that was some years ago! Flicking my cigarette into the bin, I stepped confidently forward into the gym, up onto the nearest treadmill, set it at what seemed a reasonable speed of 10, began to run, and promptly fell flat on my face. Gathering myself majestically up, I hurried out and into the nearest pub to calm my nerves with a beer and a cigarette. My poor lungs, how they hurt!
3) I need to watch the Super Bowl. With a bevy of American friends excitedly babbling - often incoherently and simultaneously - about the upcoming highlight of the American Football season, I find myself rather perplexed and stunned. In England, we often hold it a cardinal truth that American Football is a less masculine version of rugby - after all, with rugby you slam into people with nothing on but shorts and a shirt, as opposed to shoulder pads and a helmet. However, I'm not going to play the ignorant islander any more. This week, I shall venture into a nearby sports bar - Big Bamboo, Malone's, Boxing Cat Brewery - grab a pint and enmesh myself in the game. Having taken a cursory look at the rules, I can't say I understand very much but by golly if I don't try. Any quick hints before I go on Monday? Seriously, anyone - Help!
4) Don't play it again Sam, I really can't take it anymore. Dear Neighbor, I can hear you playing Lady Gaga's Bad Romance over and over again and I have two questions: First, what exactly is this bad romance and how can I help you overcome it in order for you to stop playing that damn song? Second, ugliness and disease are both free all the time, neither necessitate any form of purchase. For confirmation, see Courtney Love.
