Understanding touch

I'll get on to explaining that title in a mo - I'm rather pleased with its ambiguity. Today was another odd day for weather, in that a grey start led to a warm, sunny later morning which in turn became a cloudy and rather windy afternoon before a wonderful clear evening in which now, just before I came upstairs, the stars are showing above the last light in the sky. (Extra)

I wasn't downstairs till after 9am today - I couldn't 't help remembering how in the days when I worked/had very young children of my own, a long lie regularly implied staying firmly in bed till after 9 o'clock, and wondering why we daren't do that any more: is it because we might end up staying there all day? I managed to put some bread on in the machine and clean the sink before I gave in and went outside to do my Italian in the garden.

A quick coffee followed before the two of us headed to the study to watch the opening game in grandson James's international touch tournament in which Scotland were playing England. I had realised at the opening ceremony how many more teams England were fielding in the competition; it's a much longer-established and much better-funded game than it is here. Anyway, the signal kept dropping - not ours; it was affecting everyone, and the live chat column was soon full of moans, but we realised that Scotland was rather soundly beaten when we had texts from Neil in Limerick. 

The usual routine of lunch and irresistible sleep followed before I roused myself with the knowledge that this way ruin lay and dragged us both out to the car. We were halfway to Glen Massan when we realised how grey and cheerless it looked, and having phoned Di to check we drove round to Blairmore, left the car in her garden and walked along the shore road under a cloud cover that was breaking up as we walked. The picture above was taken near Blairmore village, showing the mountains beyond Loch Long, and we managed a mile before we felt ready to drop. (I don't want to go on about it, but this post-viral malarkey is the worst I've ever experienced.) There I sat on the top of some steps leading down to the shore and watched some of the second of Scotland's matches today, against the Cayman Islands. Just at the point I started watching, James made a great dash across the line and earned himself a shout-out by name in the commentary box, a moment that cheered me enough to send me marching back along the road to catch up with Himself, who'd decided if he didn't set off back to the car he'd never arrive there.

While he made curry for the dinner, I watched the whole match on the big computer. It's horribly complicated and I barely understand what's happening, with subs coming on in continuous batches (and going off too!) and rules about what way your hips are facing and how many touches you get before you have to give up the ball to the opposing team ... But James played a storm and Scotland won after being three goals down in the first half. I even got a few words with James afterwards when I rang his dad, which was great. I'm celebrating by adding a screen shot of my computer as another extra ... (James is in the centre, walking away from the line)

You can see the whole tournament, should you be interested, on YouTube. 

Of passing familial interest: my father's cousin Andrew Gerrard was the Governor of the Cayman Islands in the 1950s, when he warned of the dangers of selling off land there "for a mess of pottage". I only learned of this today when I looked up his name and found several contemporary references quoting him...