
my charges were gleefully enjoying their time outdoors, playing basketball and- is there even such a game?- poison ball while i was, well, what could i have been doing, happily juggling my football that i left in a work place since i've got a bag full of footballs at home.
since it's the june holidays and the older children (i find them easier to deal with, strangely enough, and would prefer to take charge of them over the young ones any day of the week) are at home, there isn't anyone to play ball with me.
but i was still pretty happy left alone with just me and my voluptuous friend (look at those curves!), while my colleague hovered the children as they played their games.
which led to one child commenting, ' why are you so happy playing by yourself, mr ta?'.
well, i was happy, and i was playing by myself. guilty as charged.
but what is it about football that makes me continually seek solace in it, be it with a group of good friends, enjoying the camaraderie, with strangers, relishing the challenge, by myself at sentosa or at work, comfortable in the solitude?
maybe it's because it's challenging, maybe it's because it's doable, although challenging, and perhaps i'm just a sucker for kicking a ball around.
even when it's actually a volleyball.