Just when you think there's going to be nothing to blog about the Irish win the Grand Slam, Jade Goody dies and ya Mum calls to express her astonishment that her only son has actually remembered Mother's Day.
I don't think you could have written a match with anymore drama that the Irish v Wales game. 2 minutes to go and the Welsh have a penalty on the halfway line they need to convert to win. They miss by 2 metres. They drop to fourth place and propel the Irish team into rugby history and O'Driscoll to near Sainthood. I watched the game recorded later, when I knew the result and my nerves were still jingling so how the rest of the nation coped I just don't know. Probably by consuming huge amounts of the black stuff before during and after.
Jade Goody is dead so the BBC World Service announced this morning. I'm pleased. She's at peace and at least now for a while there will be nothing in the news that reminds us of the ugly British obsession with empty pointless celebrity.
Last night I attended an amazing concert at The Waterfront called Eclection - a musical cocktail shaken up by a string ensemble Sinfonietta, a bluesy-rock band called Hooker and a choral group Melisma. It was a stage full of some very ordinary people doing some pretty extraordinary things. The evening belonged to the Compare however who, towards the end of the evening, tried to whip up audience involvement by assuring us we were all in the same collaborative club with "28 members up here on stage and one great big member out there".
I was sat next to Mr and Mrs "The Streat" and exchanged stories on how our businesses developed pretty much at the same time. Best of all we swapped business cards and arranged to meet for lunch sometime soon.
Mother's Day hey? A time to remember and thank one of the two who put you on this mortal coil or a day when we allow ourselves to be driven by the card industry again?
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