The Winter Olympics have begun, though I can’t say I’m particularly excited. I can remember being bored to tears, years ago, by Ski Sunday on the TV (mum, being Norwegian, would sometimes watch, though I don’t remember her being too excited either). Hurtling down an icy track on a bobsleigh looks fun for five minutes, but once you’ve seen one vertiginous descent (and maybe a hundredth of a second shaved off the previous best time), you’ve seen them all. Curling is even more boring than Ski Sunday, though I cherish the idea of it being ‘housekeeping on ice’.
The ski-jumping looks deceptively easy, until some chump gets wiped out and is whisked off to hospital. Back in Norway mum used to ski-jump, though she didn’t mention the fact very often. If it was me I’d try to shoehorn my ski-jumping exploits into the conversation at every possible opportunity...
No comments:
Post a Comment