25 June 2012

Forza Azzurri

So both Mon Amour and Olive have now witnessed my transformation into a shouting, cursing, spittle flecked ball of fury when I watch a footie match. They find it slightly dustirbing, yet highly amusing (I think).

It's probably a good thing I'm not further along, because I might have shouted myself into early labour last night. Eesh.

Crossing my fingers and overly swollen toes (water retention sucks) for the game against Germany...

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