I don’t run unless I’m being chased

Yesterday my company hosted an interdepartmental charity rounders event. Since I work in a sales lead organisation, it seems that when we add an element of competition to any attempt to raise money, the turn out suddenly triples, especially if one is in an environment where alcohol may be consumed.

And so yesterday afternoon we dutifully set of for the beautiful Hyde Park to the old football grounds, where one may obtain permission to throw, kick or hit a ball around… all of which we were doing since some of the more enthusiastic boys had brought along a rugby ball and a football to pass the time in between games.

I had not intended to play… I don’t generally run unless I’m being chased. I just meant to stand on the sidelines, rattling my bangles in appreciation, drinking cider and listening to some of the boys (names not mentioned) commenting on the running prowess of the female players… mostly in the chest area. However, one of our team *cough* Michael *cough* didn’t show up and the next thing I was lining up with the rest of my illustrious team to take the bat. It soon became very obvious that I have become no better at sport since my schooldays. Not only was I immediately out after a pathetic hit… but I had also failed to grasp the rules and believed I could bat again (well everyone else was… they just weren’t out…doh!) In fairness… no one stopped me… not even the opposing team. I did manage to mimic my initial hit perfectly and I was out immediately again… so no harm done. Well, until I went on to play backstop… where I didn’t actually stop anything. Sigh…we lost by one run.

I ended up heading to Soho with Vicky and Becky for Chinese, which was much needed after all the running around. Crispy drunk, salt and pepper squid, lemon chicken and beef in black bean sauce with egg-friend rice… sigh… yum…

Tonight… stand-up comedy in Camden… should be fun!