27 January 2013 @ 07:04 pm
*John is sitting on the edge of his seat. His hands are clasped in front of him and his eyes never look away from the screen on the other side of the room. A cold, forgotten mug of tea is by his feet. The biscuits, open and just waiting to be eaten, are completely ignored. There's no time for biscuits - the tennis is on.*

*If John were more self aware during his tennis binges, he'd realises he's making rather ridiculous noises quite frequently. He sucks in his breath every time there's a close shot, yells when he thinks the ball is out - no actual words, just a loud noise that those familiar with spectating tennis understand as the universal phrase for "Is it? Is it out? It can't be - umpire, is it? Is it?!". As it is, he's too engrossed in watching the sport to even pay attention to the other person in the room, let alone what sounds he's making.*

*He's paying so much attention to the television that he doesn't even remember that he's still in his clothes from last night, or that he's sitting on Peter's sofa, not his own. Sally had thrown him out for the night, declaring that she couldn't take any more of this tennis talk and that he could come back when he was capable of holding a conversation about anything else. He'd turned up at Peter's place that evening, sheepishly holding a sleeping bag, change of clothes and a bottle of wine. After the usual snarkiness, Peter had rolled his eyes and told John not to snore too loudly.*

*By the time Peter had come down in the morning, John was already awake, frantically checking the internet, his phone and the television all at once for any news about the tennis. He'd managed to find a live stream, thankfully, and The Machine was only too willing to help John find updates and commentaries from all over the digital world. The (miniscule) part of John's brain not focused on the tennis presumed it must be exciting for her to be so focused on real time events again - a practice for 2015, no doubt.*

*It didn't take long for John to be totally engrossed in the tennis, all thoughts of The Machine, Peter, Sally or anything else completely banished.*
Current Location: Peter's house
Current Mood: anxious
03 March 2011 @ 09:48 pm
Why won't my sofa bed turn from a sofa into a bed? What did you do to it?!
24 February 2011 @ 11:56 am
I hate Disney Princess paraphernalia
23 February 2011 @ 10:29 pm
You ask your other half to stop talking about underwear on the internet and suddenly you're the anti-Christ!

I swear Jemima's going to grow up thinking that men only ever sleep on sofas...
20 February 2011 @ 03:10 pm
With hindsight, telling Sally that Oliver is more likely to ride his bike if she stopped 'screeching like a banshee in a bingo hall' wasn't the best of ideas...