Monday, June 12, 2006
I retreated to my usual spot for a smoke - the toilet with the lid down. The boyfriend has been very iffy about smoking in the room when the airconditioner is running.
"Gets the unit dirty very fast," he said.
I squinted my eyes as it can get quite smoky with the bathroom door closed, and the only ventilation comes from the two half-opened windows in the bathroom.
Halfway through the cigarette, I heard the whistle blow. I opened the bathroom door gently to have a peek at the kick-off.
The boyfriend was seated on the floor, his back towards me, and he was caught up in a little dance. He was oblivious to the rest of the world, eyes glued to the tele with live broadcast all the way from Munich.
His little dance had him shaking his belly while seated on the floor, and his right arm was raised, with the index finger pointing skywards. Kinda like John Travolta in the Saturday Night Fever dance routine. Note that I did say "kinda".
I watched him with much amusement, put out my cigarette and joined him.
Oh yes, the fever is
Posted by Doreen at 9:07 am