I write tonight having just returned from a 4-day long sojourn somewhere in the northern recesses of our fine country. Quite the picturesque location, I must say, in the heart of a province that I absolutely did not expect to contain a resort that almost gives you the feeling of being on the cusp of the Mediterranean. But I shall write more about this yet unnamed place in the future.
One bad thing about it though was that the hotel TV had no Balls Channel, and subsequently, no World Cup coverage. And as Murphy would have it, the Spain-Germany semifinal match just had to be shown while I was there. Not that it would have mattered though, because as I was desperately searching the Internets high and low for a live stream, the day's grueling schedule caught up with me and caused me to nosedive straight into my laptop.
But all joy was not lost, as Spain went on to punish the in-form German team and earn Paul the Octopus the hatred of the whole German nation.
Too bad that this (see below) didn't happen again though. I bet Schweinsteiger would have snapped.
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