I got sucked in again last night, in an even worse fashion than the night before. I listened to the commentary of Djokovic vs Wawrinka, an absolute belter that finished at quarter to four (NZ time) this morning. I slept through the fourth set which Wawrinka won on a tie-break, but was glad (kind of) to hear the fifth set which reached a spectacular crescendo in the 22nd game. At the end of surely one of the best last points ever, I couldn't tell who had won it because the commentators were in awe. I felt a bit sorry for Wawrinka at the end; he played the match of his life and he might never get the chance to beat a superstar at a grand slam again. Today Chris Bowers said it was an even better spectacle than last year's final. I wonder whether Bazza stayed up to watch it.
So I've been pretty sluggish today, which thankfully is a public holiday in Wellington. I got up late, worked on my puzzles for a bit (I want to get a portfolio together to send to Australia) and read some more of Nick Hornby in the sun on the bank of the Basin Reserve. There happened to be a closely contested four-day cricket match going on. I'm guessing it was some top-grade club match but I really had no idea. Every now and then I'd get a whiff of pot smoke.
At the beach yesterday I was struck by the sheer number of tattoos on show (I know I've blogged about this subject before). One bloke had "Fuck the World" across his upper back. Seriously man. I'm not ante tattoos per se - people can do what they like - but I find some of them (like that one) really distasteful. I'm sure the prevalence of "tats" is on the increase. It feels like half the population now have them. I've always thought that insurance companies could use tattoos as a pretty reliable rating factor for life policies.
I didn't meet Tracy for lunch last Thursday because she was ill. On the Monday (the day of the autism meeting) she had iron pumped into her intravenously over several hours. She's been ill quite a lot lately and it's a bit of a worry.