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A full weekend.

Friday night we went to a rugby match. Sale are our local team and they made it worthwhile by massacring their opponents, though I felt guilty about enjoying it so much. Strange, I've been to one football match at Anfield (Liverpool vs Arsenal) and the atmosphere was raw, all the bad things about tribalism with none of the good. I know there are people who take their families to football, but this still felt like an anomaly. There was barely suppressed anger among thte fans at something, the enemy, the world, I don't know, I just never want to 'taste' it again. The rugby match couldn't have been further from this. It really was a family game and the vehemence and passion was exciting, not ugly. And, lest we forget, we won! Chips and beer and coffee all around!

Saturday was Wedding Day For Chums. The Bride and Groom polished up beautifully, the bridesmaids looked fabulous in purple, the reception was furnished with questionable white wine, and the whole place was full of excellent friends.

It got me thinking about marriage. I love other people's weddings, but I can't get away from the old connotations of woman as chattel. This is not what my friends do, of course, and I am always awed by those who can swear their eternal soul. I fear the very moment of saying, 'This is it,' sets a thing in stone...and that really is not good for love.

And as for giving my soul, my soul isn't my property to give: it's the other way around. I am the property of my soul. I can no more give my soul to another than my feet could rent out my brain. I am a part of it, this ego, this heart, this identity is a very small part of it. My soul can lead me into wonderful bonds that never fade, with kindred spirits who reach into me and connect with me at the deepest point I can recognise...but soul is a deeper thing than I can recognise. It's the bottomless sea, the ocean of stars. For that reason, if I was looking for my own soul's blessing, and a promise to last me for as long as I could imagine, I would take that oath by the sea. But the sea changes and kills too, so of all the oaths to be taken at its door, perhaps the one of handfasting is the least applicable. Under the trees is traditional, under the sky, where life grows through countless constant seasons.

How did I get so profound, so early? Not enough coffee.

Sunday started out a nightmare and ended very gently indeed. We came back early from staying with friends only to be pulled over by the police, who pointed out that one of the car tyres was flat. Transpired that car needed to have all four of its tyres fixed, some thing about the front steering was bandied about, the RAC had to bring replacement tyres in from somewhere else, and it took hours so bang went our visit to Aber Falls with chums. Instead, we went to a local park, where Navvy the Husky threw himself up and down dale with gusto. Our friends must have found us weary dreary hosts, but they never showed it, and sparked us up with great company and conversation.


And today? I have lots and lots and lots to do before the weekend, including something which must be done right now. Which is why I am here, of course.

Date: 2004-09-27 05:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thru-her-lens.livejournal.com
Hmmm, football versus rugby. Having been to two football matches, I would happiy never go again (save a game at Anfield - but that would be to see my team place at home). Something about the attitude and language, even of the smaller children at a football match is unsavoury to me.

Rugby, however is wonderful to watch live, and one of those games that you can indeed take the entire family to...I have fond memories of my dad, dadcu, sister and myself seeing games at Cardiff Arms.

I'm glad, that despite its hiccups, you had a lovely weekend. xx

Date: 2004-09-27 01:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] smokingboot.livejournal.com
I suppose it's harsh to compare two sports from one live game of each, but football definitely came off the worse. Seeing both sides baying at each other, it's the closest I have been to a real mob filled with real rage, and this from someone who's been on various protest marches in the 80's and 90's! By contrast, the rugby supporters seemed enthusiastic and very good natured.

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