The Long Hello

Today is all about Mr B coming home. If we are to make our life here, he will need to be in London regularly to work. I hope we don't have this level of angst every time he is away.

Conor was keen to watch the rugby this morning (England-Scotland) so we did. Katherine, once she had exhausted her knowledge of the game gleaned from a few sports sessions at school, retired upstairs to draw. Conor declared himself firmly a Scotland supporter, so I said I'd support England (I am English, after all, though I do tend to keep out of the way for Scotland-England matches). Spoiler alert: look away if you don't want to know the result....

Scotland played a really gutsy game and looked in control - well, as much as anyone did. But we nicked it in the final minutes. If Scotland had beaten us by not very many points, then I think we would both have gone through to the next round. But us winning effectively knocks them out, barring a real upset in the last group match. When I explained this to Conor he put his head down and cried, sobbed his heart out, for twenty minutes. A lifetime of sporting disappointement awaits and I'm not sure I can cope if this is how it will go for him! I have to say, his patriotic fervour took me by surprise as only a few weeks ago he was saying we should live in Spain so he could be Spanish because that would give him a better chance of getting in the Barcelona football team (I doubt it would - but he seems convinced).

So, here he is watching out for his Scottish dad to come home so he can talk to someone who understands him.