Life got in the way of both my and the Brat's blog-keeping there for a while. Let's hope we've managed to fight it back into a corner long enough for something to actually happen.
And that brings me straight onto the World Cup. Of football, known to some as soccer. A game I used to play and the Brat still does, and a lot of fun to watch and speculate on whether the ref inherited his blindness from his mother or his father (whoever he is). And whether gross ignorance of the offside rule is learned or hereditary.
Sadly I haven't been watching a lot of it, because of the time zones (sometimes living in the South Pacific sucks fetid donkey balls through bendy-straws), but I do know that:
And the other big news is that this weekend the All Blacks play Wales in the last ever test at Carisbrook. I'm going to be there, but not with bells on (I value my life) shouting at the Welsh with the rest of the rabble on the Terraces.
In keeping with our tradition of finding useful phrases in the visitors' native language, here's what I'll be yelling at them:
Ach hefyd 'n annwyl chan dafad!
You are too fond of sheep!
Pryd ewyllysia Torchwood bod 'ma?
When will Torchwood be here?
Pawb chan 'ch glo ydy berthyn i ni!
All of your coal are belong to us!
'ch fam anwyliannau Dan Certiwr hefyd!
Your mum loves Dan Carter too!
If you happen to see me at the test feel free to say hello, buy me a beer, save my spot while I make a run for Loth-loorien, whatever.
And if you know how to pronounce any of the above and/or bring me a towel (Welsh is a damp language), I'll be even happier to see you.