I remember a time when I would willingly watch Rugby every Friday and Saturday evening. I would even look forward to the super 12, the 'Caines and anyone playing the Crusaders were my team. It was all great fun and a really good time for CH as he is obsessed with the game and as it turned out I have a good eye for the game.
Not anymore. I really no longer care, how odd.
I just cannot be bothered with things that I really do not want to do. Could this just be because by the end of the day of being a mum I have used up all my daily patience and good humour allowance? If thats the case CH has a bum deal.
Mind you it could be said that I am slightly bitter and twisted and harbouring naughty thoughts on CH's treatment of our trip to the Louvre. At the time when he stood around, arms crossed like a naughty bored child with his lip dragging on the well trodden parisienne floor. I do remember bullocking him and saying something along the lines of myself never ever paying any heed to any of his hobbies or interests ever again.
Perhaps this is me sticking to my word.
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