Snooker! In Belfast!
Who knew. That's all I am saying. But once I found out...
Yes, I took the afternoon off work, made my way to the Waterfront, plopped down seven quid and there I was. Watching Matthew Stevens and Ken Doherty, while Jimmy White was on the other table. My is Matthew just intent on making bad hair choices. And if he thought that attempt at a 147 break meant I was going to forgive him for breaking my heart and not winning the world championship this year, that boy has another coming to him. So, Matthew wins, despite the bad hair and the young lad dropping his snooker cue down the steps. Then it was why I had really come. To see John Higgins. John got thrashed. You think I woud be disappointed. But it was Mark Allen's second professional match. Now the boy needs to think long and hard about his safety game. When he misses a shot, he just isn't getting the cue safe. And he is fearless (though occasionally reckless) but could he pot!?!?! I know I will be watching him on tv for years to come. And well I saw him there, doing big things. Looking pretty. Wow.

I also Mark Williams (following in the Ronnie O'Sullivan hair style path) and Alex Higgins. Alex wasn't playing of course. Strangely enough, it appeared I was the only single woman in the place (no, I know I am not single. There is the H. But I was the only woman at the snooker on her own. There weren't a lot of women. Mind you. And the rest where with at least two males. And then there was me. Wanting to heckle Stevens for breaking my heart. Losing to an evangelical. Always a bridesmaid. Never a bride. My memory is long, Matthew. Long).

And well, exciting new fun with lego.