Day 186: ladies' day at the Harlequin rugby club.

When you don't drink, it seems the opportunities for free alcohol multiply. Or perhaps it's just that you notice how much free booze gets offered and how often, because you can't partake yourself. It's kind of like, "Oo, me in 179 days time would probably be really happy about all this free piss. What a pity for future me that now me can't get in there and guzzle some.". Then of course, you realise you're thinking very stupid nonsense thoughts and you shut up. Today was an opportunity for basically free piss (20 bucks for bottomless bubbly and barbie food), and I was not worried that I was missing out. Firstly, the bubbles were not Veuve or Moet or anything close. At my age I feel within my rights to be a Champagne snob; I am not 22 anymore and I simply cannot stomach the instant headache that is cheap fizzy wine (especially right now when I'm not stomaching wine full stop.). Secondly, the event was so extremely pleasing to me that I couldn't give a hoot about wine, free or otherwise. Picture this: a suburban footy oval, edged with large, leafy trees, bathed in Autumnal sun, and dotted with athletic (and some not so athletic) lads aged in their twenties and thirties, all wearing the most darling red, blue and yellow striped socks. I've always had a thing for a boy in a good rugby outfit, but these outfits were just the best. It kind of made me want some of those rugby socks for myself. And maybe a nice rugby playing male to go with them. As it happens, I'm not sure I'm the type of girl rugby playing boys go for, at least judging by the looks of a large proportion of the other ladies in attendance. Well never mind. Whether I'm their cup of tea or not, ladies' day at the Harlequin rugby club was certainly mine.