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The last time a member of the royal family was arrested occurred during the Civil War in 1647. Up until today, that is, because, at 8am UK time, Andrew Mountbatton Windsor, ex-prince and known associate of ultra bounder Jeffrey Epstein, was arrested at the Sandringham estate, where he’s been living since being evicted from his once royal residence. The previous royal, by the way, was Charles I, and we know what happened to him.
However, this post has nothing to do with that. Well, apart from that sensationalist, opening paragraph. Actually, in more relevant news, today marked 28 years since our arrival in the UK. Maybe not as shocking as Andrew’s arrest but certainly a big moment in our lives.
I’m not going to write about that, either. Rather, today was spent collecting the contents of Mirinda’s study from the various places around the house and returning them from whence they came. That operation took a big chunk of the day and involved quite a bit of walking.
In another bit of walking, I took the girls through the woods for an almost glorious wander. I say ‘almost’ because for some reason, an annoying person decided that the ski slope around the mountain needed some really loud music in order to have a good time. My usual, almost silent walk, descended into a deluge of unnatural noise. It was very annoying.
Not that it bothered the girls. They had a lovely walk, checking out the wee mail and even greeting an old chap who stopped to say hello.
Then, back at home, I settled back to watch the play off in the women’s ice hockey between Sweden and Switzerland.
They were playing for the bronze medal and both teams were on the attack from the beginning, making for great excitement which kept me on the edge of my recliner.
The first period went by without the puck getting by either goalie. It was a very even game with an equally even scoreline as the second period started. And, like the first, the second started with skilful ferocity. Then, Sweden scored, and the crowd went crazy. Well, one part of it did, anyway.
Then, a short time later, Switzerland evened the score and the other half of the crowd went even crazier.
Following the break, the third period started and ended with the scoreline the same. And so, into overtime the teams went and something happened that I always advocated should happen in football rather than going straight to penalties.
I didn’t realise that when ice hockey goes into overtime, the teams are reduced by two players. This means the rink seems a whole lot bigger and the players need to work extra hard. Lots of fevered puck passing and see-sawing from one team to the other. Total excitement with highs, lows and strangled gasps, for both sides.
And, to cap it off, it is ten minutes of sudden death: the first to score, wins.
Unfortunately, Switzerland scored first and, suddenly, the rink exploded as players threw their helmets, gloves and sticks any and everywhere in jubilation and great excitement. Well, half of them did, anyway.
The Swedes in the audience were somewhat subdued amid the riotous assembly. They all looked exactly like this fellow.
Personally, I would like to thank the Swedish ice hockey team for teaching me to appreciate the game, building on the initial, important lessons taught to me by Jonas. Obviously, I am devastated that they didn’t win a medal, but they played out of their skins and, this rank novice thinks, did the country proud.
In the final, the US beat Canada, but I don’t really care about that. It seems to me that it’s generally one or the other. Yawn.
