Slightly damp and steamy.

That got your attention, didn't it?!

Ostensibly we are here as supporters for Mr P, who is running in competition today, but at the earliest opportunity we have ducked our responsibility and dived into a cafe for breakfast. The rain is teeming down and the windows are soon steamy with the moisture we have brought in with us.

A game is started to pass the time whilst we wait. You have to choose one of the two options, forsaking the other for the rest of your life. The small P's get the gist immediately and are enthusiastic players. They consider each option with care and reveal some preferences I had no prior knowledge of and then float some suggestions of their own.

So, would you rather have....

....ketchup or brown sauce?

...sausages or bacon?

...meat or cheese?

...cupcakes or doughnuts with sprinkles on the top?

The prize for best contribution goes to Miss P, recently six, who stops conversation dead with:

Would you rather have an elephant living in the house or central heating?

I'm still considering my answer.

Excitement, and anxiety...

A favourite friend rings to divulge plans for her imminent birthday and outlines a day of such decadence and frivolity that my mouth waters in anticipation.

My mind turn to "what to wear?" and I start planning an extensive sit-up regime and eye my trainers with a speculative eye.

Ah the folly of perfection.

Far too high a price to pay

They say it's not the winning but the taking part that counts.

I'm guessing those that live by the prophecy are not Olympic athletes, lacking the necessary single minded devotion to being the best that sustains through hours, days and months of training.

Yesterday a young man, Nodar Kumaritashvili, leapt on a tea tray and raced down an ice tube for one last practice. Tragically, a minute error towards the end of the course resulted in a freak accident in which Nodar lost his life.

It seems barely credible that it is possible to fall out of the luge course, let alone that there would be steel posts with no soft protection so close to the edge, yet these are the factors causing such a devastating consequence.

One man, striving for an Olympic dream, lost everything.

Olympic dreams

Mr P and I were entertained last night by the trials and tribulations of the Jamaican bobsled team at the Calgary Games. I love a good story and this has all the necessary elements of a fairly ridiculous idea with an inevitably but nonetheless enjoyable happy(ish) ending.

I am now considering an entry for the 2012 Olympics and wonder which sport I would display astounding natural talent in. Any ideas?

Contentment

There is a great deal of pleasure to be gleaned by completing a boring task that is long overdue in pleasant surroundings, not to mention the residual smug satisfaction.

I am studiously typing at the kitchen table and listening to the smaller residents entertaining themselves and their guests with varying levels of giggles and stampeding feet and also taking a moment to gaze out of the window at the winter sun which hints at the beginnings of Spring.

Just lovely.

Happy Saturday all.

A competitive streak a mile wide

Once a week, I don purple lycra leggings, leave the smalls in the care of Mr P and let my competitive streak loose on court. I have a big competitive streak and in a match it is all consuming, enveloping my usual sang froid and giving me a fiercely barbed focus.

I would love to say I am a magnanimous player, getting pleasure from the poetry of the game and the cameraderie of my teammates. In my mind I congratulate good passes and smile encouragingly to those who have less confidence in their ability.

In reality I fear I am a harpy. I do say encouraging things but I suspect my facial expressions contradict the kind words. I jump up and down and shout far too much. I fight for the ball as if my life depends on it and run about like a lunatic. I'm all elbows and jutting limbs, flailing in the air and occasionally making painful contact with another player.

Sheepishly, I always say nice things to my opponent when we go off court to compensate for my ferocious behaviour on court and usually they understand.

Occasionally we lose a match I think we should win and I silently boil with rage. There is nothing that irritates me more than losing a match that we were capable of winning and I really struggle to be nice to everyone in those steamy minutes after the final whistle. I smile through gritted teeth and congratulate everyone on a game well played, then make a cowardly dash for the solitary safety of the car where I can rant to the radio all the way home.

How can I tame this arrogant monster and teach it how to play nicely whilst I still have a team to play for?!

A small pause

So, a small break in transmission for a work related holiday, and back to earth with a bump.

I have had small triumphs today with loose ends finally being tied into place, sad news from a friend who I hope will find things better than she expects when she arrives and am girding my loiins for some tedious paperwork.

I am in my kitchen, wearing my coat and balancing a hot water bottle on my lap. Do you think my anti heating militancy has maybe gone a bit too far?