I have spectacularly failed at trying not to achieve anything this week. I cleared the kitchen table of the paperwork that has been dumped there for the last couple of weeks, which itself was piles that have been accruing in other places for far too long. And I've emptied the tall cupboard in the corner of the kitchen which has been accumulating post for people that don't live here anymore for over a year, so now the ironing boards and folding chairs etc are away.And I've tidied up my craft supplies cupboard a bit, and made sausage and mash for the boy,and our friend Joel (while they were out fixing the door on Joel's car, which they had replaced the other day because some lovely little tykes had bent it). 

Joel will crop up increasingly often in the tales of my life by the way, as he's going to be occupying the spare room at our house while he writes up his thesis.

So I reckon i've earned a glass of wine, and to put my feet up in my sheepy slippers to read the new good housekeeping and write a lovely long letter to my friend.

Football? When there's rugby about to happen? Are you mad?

This is possibly a cross-over with the romance thread, but in my hosue we have each made the great sacrifice of promising not to gloat if our team wins (He's saesneg and I'm Cymraeg, bitter enemies to the death), and I have even, as a testament to how much I love the boy, sworn to stop supporting my traditional second team (all Welsh people support two teams, Wales, and whoever plays England).

Whether or not we manage to stick to this accord on saturday after our great nations clash remains to be seen. if Wales win and I really don't gloat then it may be the greatest achievement yet.