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Almost experienced the nightmare of getting Wordle in one today. I choose a different start word every day and today, perhaps influenced by the bad decisions of the football authorities I went for pride. I saw the letters turning green and thought, “oh shit, I don’t want this to happen†but luckily letter four was still grey. So I was going to get this in two. It had to be prize. Wasn’t even worth thinking about. Oh wait, it could be prise. Getting it in 2 is a disaster too, so I hoped I’d get it wrong, but went for the more likely prize anyway. It was not it. So it had to be prise after all. No.
I got four letters on go one and didn’t even get it in three. I looked through the remaining letters on the keyboard and saw the m. Should I leap in, or was I going to forget another two possible words and end up failing this thing. Even with this jeopardy I didn’t look around to spot price. But even I couldn’t be that unlucky. It was prime. From almost getting it in one and being three under par, I had just averaged the hole. What a fucking idiot.
This was all at one minute past midnight, the coolest time to do Wordle. And as Wordle is the coolest thing you can do then that made me the coolest person on the planet.
I am trying to be kind to myself and that meant pretty much having the day off today. I got a lie-in til 7.30am (but had gone to bed at about 1.30am so it wasn’t much different than usual). I should probably have gone back to bed again, but watched some football and played Uno on my phone and tried to do nothing at all until it was time to take the kids to football.
It’s great to see how much both kids have improved in the few weeks since they started. Phoebe did a one on one exercise against one of the best players on the team, a hench and hefty chap who I’d be a bit scared to take on. Not only did she get the ball off him and get passed him, but then kept fighting for it when he tried to get it back until he had no option but to push her over. She got a penalty kick and even though she was aiming at one of those tiny pop up goals she blasted the ball so hard that her adversary couldn’t hold the ball and it bounced into the net. It was her first goal since she’s joined the training and she skipped for joy. And I almost did too. The mums love her. She’s still the only girl at this level (there’s now another girl in the under 6 session that Ernie goes to) and she isn’t afraid of anything. The joy of parental pride is exquisite. Her happiness radiates and fills me too, but I have even more of my own. What she is doing is remarkable (even though it shouldn’t be) and her courage is inspiring. She takes after me.
I wish that were true. But the fact that she’s good at football and brave makes her the opposite of me, which makes me respect her more, given she’s half full of my useless genes.
Ernie was zipping up and down the field with the ball more or less glued to his feet too. And mainly paying attention. They might not be my kids. It’s going to be great going back through this blog once my wife has left me and piecing together all the clues that I am not spotting at the time.
My daughter once again crashed my snooker tournament, but even though there was controversy about the players not being able to wear armbands, the action on the old green board was incredible. I may not be able to play football, but boy I have turned not being able to play snooker into an art form.
I’ve booked one guest for the Leicester Comedy Festival RHLSTP on 26th February and it’s a good one. Badgers and Plussers, look in your secret area to find out. Your non-badge scum/non-plussed idiots will find out by the by.
