Shouting from my shed

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Thirty-five seconds to go…

I was writing my book yesterday, a chapter about sailing out of Colombia through the gorgeous San Blas archipelago. It was 2003 and in Australia the Rugby World Cup final was underway. I frantically twiddled at the boat’s shortwave radio, desperately trying to tune into the Rugby. Paradise is no place to be at times like that.
I realised that I still had not watched the match and so I rented the DVD. I sat yesterday on the train, entranced. I was a nervous wreck, I wanted to cheer and shout and urge the team on. By the end of the match I was blubbing as if the match was yesterday. Staggering. Well done, boys!

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Shouting from my shed

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