Significant life moments

Do you ever get sick and tired, or fed up? Do you sometimes feel like you're unwell, exhausted, or you've eaten too much? Are you ill, sleepy or full? What about under the weather, bushed or absolutely stuffed? Have you been feeling crook, beat, or overfed lately?

Man, I can't believe the Dogs lost again. I mean, I believe it, I watched it on TV and it would be furthestfetched if they somehow doctored the results and fooled an audience of tens of thousands. But this year they have laid an ugly, painful egg - the egg of poor, unstructured, unimaginative, boring, ill-disciplined and frankly painful football. It's times like these I am glad I no longer care about rugby league. Well that's not entirely true. It's 85-90% true. I care about Ben Barba and Jamal Idris, deeply and passionately on so many levels. You should care too.

So settlement was today, but it still doesn't feel real. And what more can you ask for in life than for something to feel real? After all, if it doesn't feel real, just what does it feel? I mean, how can it be anything, and yet not real?

I haven't contracted World Cup fever to the extent I did in the last two ones. This may be related to Australia's poor performance, with the only bright spark being the incisive performance of the press gallery. I really feel that a solid loss to Ghana will play right into the critic's hands, as their best material comes from pathetic national humiliations such as this.

They have quite a lot of power, the media, I think sometimes they don't realise it. Of course at the end of the day, which is to say ultimately or you know, ignore what I just said and listen to this, the real power lies with... you guessed it - me! I feel very powerful right now. And yet on another, deeper level, any distinction between me and my wife, daughter, family, friends, loved ones, sporting heroes, favourite food, dirty socks and the like, is purely superficial. I can never rebel against nature, or lord my power over it, because I am part of it, nestled deeply and occasionally smotheringly in it's smoking hot bazoombas.

All I ask is that you feel a deep and pleasurable connection with me.

I felt an extraordinary inward jolt of laughing and shock, only partially outwardly manifested, when I strummed E, A, B, then E and my daughter started dancing in what can only be described as a semi-frantic Kindermusik- and In the Night Garden-inspired performance, all bent over and wiggling hands, bouncing to the beat. It may only be described this way.

Lastly, I would like to add that I am gaining an understanding of weather and climate and it feels really good. I especially feel like I understand things when I watch suds drift around in the bath.

At the tennis

Todd Woodbridge: Well Rafa, that was a truly workman-like display out there. Three tight sets, but you never looked out of control. Tell me, how does it feel to win a match at the French? Because I never did.
[Rafael Nadal embraces TW warmly, then lies down on the clay and pulls a blanket over himself]
TW: Well there you have it folks, the finest clay courter I've seen since Andres Gomez, or perhaps more latterly Jarko Nieminen. Please stay tuned, because our very own Sam Stosur, whom I once shared an informal mentoring association with during my stint as Federation Cup Treasurer, will be shooting for her very first grand slam final next on centre court.
[TW lies down on the clay and pulls out a Matthew Reilly book and starts reading until he dozes off. Meanwhile, Stosur and Jankovic enter the court and respectfully sidestep the sleeping past and present giants of tennis. Until a pivotal moment in the third set, that is, when Jankovic loses her cool over a clearly fluffed line call and smashes her racket into Todd Woodbridges back]
TW: AAARRRRGGGHH! [TW returns to sleep after Jankovic pulls his covers back over him]