Shaky, suicide and sound-bites

How is it possible to be both looking forward to an event and dreading it? Next Saturday is the start of the Six Nations and Grand Slammers Wales take on World Champions England in the only game that really matters.

What is it about the Wales/England game that arouses such passion? To lose to anyone else - even Italy - is accepted with a shrug but losing to the old enemy makes grown men - and women - weep into their beer.

Andy Robinson is talking the talk but we know it's all mind games. What matters is the game that is played on the field. And England at HQ is scary, don't be in doubt of that.

BBC Wales always do great adverts for the rugby; in some years it's been the best bit of the season. The last two years they've had the brilliant Scrum 4; this year it's Shakin' Stevens busking outside Twickenham. No offence to Shaky, but that's a no-hoper to start with.

John S this morning was talking about the poultice of faith; let's put it on the Wales team next Saturday. And remember, they've even drafted in Dallaglio, who retired two years ago.

Maybe the spider in the shower this morning couldn't face a season of hope and agony - is hope worse than none? I've asked this before. Or maybe he'd been rejected by Miss Longlegs. Either way there was no need for him to throw himself under the cascading water; he could have crawled up under the soapdish for protection. But, no. he chose to take the desperate spider's way out. I tried to help him but I was too late.

Yesterday morning, over tea in bed, husband and I had interesting discussion (read argument) over the question I raised on here a few days ago: if a tree falls in a forest etc. He, being an engineer of sound (mind) was logical and scientific; me being of a more left-brained nature, maintained that even if it is squabbling over semantics and definition, sound only becomes noise when it is heard. We agree to differ.

Thanks to Tim I had cake and wine in church this morning. I also got tapped on the shoulder by Carol asking, 'what's that for?' The boy is wasted as an engineer; he should be on masterchef.

Last week I was told to perk up the weekly notices as they're too full of in-jokes and things people won't understand. So I re-vamp them and what happens? I get two complaints. I wonder if the writer of Revelations (hey, these letters are getting a bit boring and sameish, can you come up with something so we can end on a flourish?) got the same reaction. (Ooh, you've gone a bit over the top, haven't you? We only meant put a bit of spin on, not sex it up.)

I'm now comparing myself with a spin-doctoring Bible writer; maybe I should stop and go take a pill.