Spent the day on Sunday with two out of three of my children and a crowd. Lunch, followed by the rugby at Twickenham, followed by Adam kay “This Is Going To Hurt”, that my son had bought us both for our Xmas pressie, followed by a curry. It was a long and immensely happy day (WELL DONE ENGLAND AND ADAM) and I loved spending time with them both. My youngest son was in Barcelona, having taken his girlfriend there for her birthday and by a small miracle he’d actually been and done some culture, sending me a text that went “yeah is very nice! Had such good tapas! Also walked in a massive church which I should know the name of ha ha”. Well, it’s a start!

During curry, when it was just down to the three of us, I was mulling over the difference between the conversations I had had during the day with men and women. Lots of rugby talk of course amongst both, but which for me has to remain at only the very highest level of superficiality. My daughter and I spent quite a lot of time admiring the men on the pitch for the Gods that they are and came up with the idea to produce a naked calendar – my son rolled his eyes at that suggestion, but frankly we’d buy lots of them, so I’m sure they’d sell. Or is that sexist??

We also took lots of photos of the cloud formations behind the stadium. You get the picture…

Later, amongst the group there was a long, drawn out analysis of the game which I tried to contribute to by saying things like, “yes, it was pretty one sided (but really I felt sorry for France and wished they’d caught up a bit), England were on fire and there is no one even close to them at this point.” The men were analysing their form in terms of the next few games and whether it was too soon for our team to have reduced the Six Nations to one already – especially if England beat Wales….then we could hope to be back to the Woodward era.

It was during our curry that the difference becomes apparent, when you are merely trying to tell a story:-

ME: So S said to her that she didn’t think that was appropriate behaviour

SON” Who’s S again? Is she the one with the blonde hair?

ME: No, she’s got dark hair.

SON: Oh, yeh, that one, what did she say again?

ME: Repeat.

SON: OK, so why was she upset? She’s married to that guy she was with right?

ME: No, that’s her boyfriend

SON: What, the one to my left?

ME: No, the one wearing the green jacket

SON: What green jacket?

He would never have noticed his jacket, what was I thinking…and so the story falls a little flat.

Detail is not his forte. I do try not to get into gender stereotyping, but just sometimes, it can’t be helped.

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