Oh the rugby, such pain

Seeing as I am not a fan of the English rugby team, I am in great pain.  I had another rough night with the rugby last night, given my current feelings of “please anyone but England” to win the world cup.   Again, making it two weeks in a row, England advances in the world cup because of Jonny Wilkinson’s boot.   I swear, he had done absolutely nothing in the four years since he sunk Australia in the last world cup final, and now in two consecutive matches he has been the x-factor in eliminating both Australia in the quarterfinals and the French hosts in the semis.

The amusing part of last night’s game was how completely deserted the streets of town were while the game was going on; I went to the grocery store and it was the most empty I have ever seen it.  There were many lanes open and no lines in any of them.  That was an utter delight.  From my apartment, I could actually hear out the window when something interesting would happen in the match, just due to the noise of the fans in the pub around the corner.  That was an added bonus for me: I did not actually have to watch it but I could just refresh my BBC “as it happens” feed to find out the precise nature of the noise-causing event each time I heard a ruckus erupt outside.

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