For the past eight months, I have stood on the sidelines at Sam's football matches in the rain, hail and snow. At junior league grounds that all appear to have been built on top of a mountain, so high up that the rain falls upwards and pelts the underside of your chin. And the wind: the icy, frostbitten wind... don't start me on the wind. Not to even mention those sub-zero Tuesday night training sessions... I drive home unable to feel my fingers on the steering wheel.
But now Spring has sprung, everything is in bloom, and actually, I quite fancy standing out in the sunshine and feeling the warm breeze ruffle my hair, watching the sun set and...
What's that? The season's over? No more matches? No more training? Till September?
What idiot came up with the football calendar in the first place, and was he a masochist or what?
This would be appropriate, if things were the other way around...
My old friend Sally bought me the above book many years ago when we worked in the same commercial production department. We shared a love of morbid songs that got us through the horrors of that job. (I now look back fondly on the "horrors" of that job, of course: further proof that life only gets worse.)
The book tells the story of some of the most depressing songs ever written - from Tell Laura I Love Her to One by Metallica. Alone Again (Naturally), Seasons In The Sun, Hurt... a great read, though it always rankled that the author hadn't chosen a Smiths track. Bruce is in there though, with The River, and Billy Joel, with Captain Jack, which I always thought was about masturbation, but the author insists is a drugs dirge. Anyway, it's a fun read - the author keeps his tongue firmly in his cheek throughout, and it has persuaded me to hear a fair few tunes with fresh ears over the years.
The other day I stumbled across a song I'd never heard before, but I immediately had to send it to Sally. It's by Bobby Goldsboro, who does make the above book with Honey... although the song below takes the melodramatic misery to a whole different level. Like Ruby (also chosen by Tom Reynolds), it's the story of a soldier who comes back from war, no longer the man he once was.
Tissues at the ready...
No, no, wait for the talky bit... the talky bit will always get you... if only for its needless exposition...
When it comes to Saturday Snapshots... Everything I Do, I Do For You.
Yesterday was pretty much a two-horse race between Charity Chic and Rigid Digit. By my calculations, RD snatched a half point victory. Well done to Chris for starting us off and C for mopping up. You guys definitely played it till your fingers bled...
Here are this week's answers. Please Forgive Me if I made any obvious mistakes.
10. Tiny tots love sweets, short marsupials wager.
A short marsupial would be a 'roo. That was having a bet.
