This weekend has been a long one, and frankly, I am zonked.
My darling mother came to visit, which would have been nice, but she brought half of Lye with her. I'm not sure how many of you have been to Lye, but it does not churn out the best house guests. Luckily, they were all ushered away into a nearby hotel which meant I could come and go at my leisure rather than being stuck with them. I am stuck however with my rediscovered Black Country accent. I'm sure it will be diluted in time.
Yesterday, we went to watch the England vs Italy Six Nations match at the Stadio Olympico, which was a lot of fun, though Clare and I ended up freezing our faces off, even though I was wearing nine layers. And a hat. It was nice to watch rugby with someone who didn't take it too seriously, and we had a lot of fun trying (and failing) to rival the Italians in terms of volume. It was a lucky victory. The reason I am no good at being a sports fan (not that I try all that hard) is because I always feel too sorry for the losing team. So much so that I forget to celebrate when my team wins. I've also never quite got round to mastering hooliganism.
My mum brought me an England shirt to wear for the match. Though I felt a bit like I was betraying my beloved Wales, I wore it anyway, figuring that in a crowd where Brits were massively outnumbered, the men in white needed all the help they could get. Besides, I can support two teams, right? I'm still backing Wales to win, and that's what matters at the end of the day. Probably. My pick of the tournament (from my very scientific analysis) is the lovely Leigh Halfpenny who is just so Welsh and has quite nice twinkly eyes.
I quite like it when people come to stay, because it means I get to show off the city a bit, and fall back in love with it myself. I've been feeling really homesick, and it's been good to remind myself that I have a very cushy deal in life at the moment. I'm still really looking forward to popping home in just over a week though, and when I get back, spring will have sprung. This is what I keep telling myself, because I swear it is not supposed to be this snowy in the Mediterranean. They reckon seasonal variation is good for the soul, but I am sick of winter now, and ready for the sun to come back.
This is probably my favourite eighties song. And that is saying a lot. Good night everyone, I hope you have a nice week.
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