Watching the Footy

We left a little late, later than we anticipated, you know, as you do.

We needed petrol, so I stopped at the service station in Victoria Parade.

I parked close to the car in front of me at the servo, as I needed the middle bowser for 98 octane petrol. I have, well had, a broken number plate frame on my front number plate. When I came back to the car after paying, the broken number plate frame caught my jeans and rip, the right leg of my jeans was suddenly ripped away from the rest of the pants. I stood for a second in complete amazement. It was very sad they were my favourite pair of jeans.

Fortunately, like shitting your pants (I imagine, I guess that is a pleasure to come some time in the future) or spilling a coffee down your clean, white shirt, we weren't far from home, so it was back to the house to change. Then it was time for a nice drive to the beach to watch the grand final.

We missed the beginning, but never mind. We drank coffee and ate chilli, I took cheese cake. And Richmond won, first time in 37 years, not that any of us follow Richmond, but it is better than an interstate team winning.

We ate KFC in Geelong on the way home. About that diet?