It’s another lovely day, one in which I should again be confined to my batcave. Instead I’m going to only be confined to it for most of the day, because it’s a nice day and I like the sunshine.
I know, I write such gripping material recently it’s hard to comprehend.
In all seriousness though, there’s apparently a cricket game going on at Trent Bridge stadium because my bus ride home was surprisingly claustrophobic for a ten minute journey at ten AM on a Friday morning. And while I understand, through passions of my own, how people can be passionate about sports, it’s fascinating for me to think about the things that get some people perked up.
Cricket’s probably a bad example of that because it’s not too bad, but I’ve had the misfortune of watching Formula 1 on TV and I’m being honest when I say that I can’t think of a more boring thing to watch than cars repeatedly going around the same looped road, one occasionally going slightly further ahead than the other.
I once went to a live racing event and that was, if it’s possible, a stranger experience, because you just stand there at the sidelines, occasionally a car speeds past too fast for you to see it, but loud enough to blow up your eardrums, and then you have to wait ten minutes for anything to come around again.
And funnily enough, when they do come around again, it’s the same experience, you don’t see shit and to be honest, I can get more excitement from watching which blade of grass a ladybird’s going to climb on next. And I’m not generally huge on bugs.