Bitch on the Blog

June 23, 2018

Schwarz Rot Gold

Filed under: Amusement,Dizzy,Formalities,Fun,Sport — bitchontheblog @ 21:14
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Never let it be said that I can’t make a complete ass of myself.

I walked into the lounge as chips were down in equal measure for both Sweden and Germany, and said: “I take it the ones in white black are the Germans.”

“Yes”.  You know the sort of yesssss (?) you get when people question whether you are still with it, if you ever were.

So far so fine. My intelligence doesn’t take easy offence at being questioned.

“The Swedish look like Ikea”, I offered. You know, blue and yellow.

The Angel who has known his mother from the word go didn’t flinch: “You, Mama, could be straight out of American Dad – or any program”. Then reminded me that blue and yellow are the colours of the Swedish flag. Ikea. As I said.





  1. I didn’t know that you were even interested in football!

    Comment by rummuser — June 24, 2018 @ 12:03 | Reply

    • I am not particularly [interested in football], neither is the Angel. Other than when the motherland plays Europe or in the world cup. The important games. What’s bred in the bone will out. What is so funny to me that even when he was little he’d always side with Germany – not least when playing against England. Don’t read anything into it. Sometimes “you can’t dance on two weddings at the same time”, one of the motherland’s old sayings – a bit like “you can’t fall between two chairs”. Obviously, you CAN, but it’s not advisable.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — June 25, 2018 @ 20:42 | Reply

  2. I have minute interest in soccer … my father had microscopic interest in the game. However, back in about 1962 said father was laying some sort of plastic flooring out of a large tin. The radio was on and I decided to sing. Father yelled at me to shut up as he was listening. I opened my ears and realised that this was soccer match, “But you don’t like football.” I piped up. That was a big mistake as he launched himself at me landed a blow to the side of my head bellowing, “You bloody fool. This is an English team playing a foreign team. It’s Tottenham Hotspur.” Two firsts that day… the first time I ever heard my father use anything approaching an expletive and the first time I heard the name Tottenham Hotspur.
    My lack of interest in the supposedly “beautiful game” was confirmed…… and continued to be confirmed by the appalling behaviour of fathers on the touchlines of schoolboy matches during my time as a teacher.

    Comment by magpie11 — June 27, 2018 @ 13:19 | Reply

    • To grow up with a father who is given to lashing out (physically) must be unsettling as, to my knowledge, children crave nothing more than stability, being able to rely on adults. One of my cousins had your misfortune. That it didn’t make him a permanently nervous child was only due to his mother being a balancing force to her husband’s temper. However, he hated his father to the end.

      Fathers “on the touchlines”. When the Angel was very young he briefly joined a Saturday morning football thingy – I believe mainly to please both his father and his father’s father, Grandad. Well, at least it wasn’t Rugby. Then I would have put my foot down. Or boxing. Then I would have put two feet down.

      Yes, fathers “encouraging” their boys from the sidelines, though hasten to add not the Angel’s father. For that FOS is too well educated and refined. But some fathers. OH MY GOD. Berating their sons from the sidelines. Shouting at them. We are talking children, not even in their teens. Awful. Naturally, if you point this out, as I did to the father of one of the Angel’s friends, you’ll get it into the neck too. As in “mind your own business”. Well, yes … but any child’s welfare IS my business.

      And then there was the “Manager”. He called the Angel up many times to take his hands out of his pockets “This is not a stroll in the countryside” he’d yell. Neither was it the world cup. The Angel’s upbringing such that he didn’t hear him. Laid back to the point of horizontal. Oh did I smile (on the sideline). However, to give that particular manager his due he sussed out the apple of my eye and put him into goal. HA! Didn’t he throw himself about to save goals right left and center. For one season. Then his father and his grandfather just accepted that football wasn’t of any interest to him. Unless, of course, the motherland plays… a BIG game. Makes me smile.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — June 27, 2018 @ 14:30 | Reply

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