The Sunday Sport

I'm a TV sport widow today.

Rich has spent the last three hours hooked to the British Grand Prix and we now have a small window of life before the World Cup Final tonight.

It's not his fault. In fact he gets a great deal of joy out of it, and seeing ones partner and the person you love happy is a great thing. I only wish it was something we could share, but try as I might I cannot muster any enthusiasm for televisual sport.

I once got very excited when Torvill and Dean were in line for a gold medal at the Ice Dance championships in Sarajevo, probably more at the thought of Christopher's gargantuan thighs pounding the ice and flinging Jane around like a rag doll than anything else.

As a child I remember having to be quiet during the 1966 World Cup final. I watched it at friends, and our Saturday afternoon play was stopped as we were told to sit quietly on the sofa and watch the television. The news that the scratchy black and white pictures were to continue for half an hours extra time hardly thrilled me and I was desperate to get back to whichever game of imaginary delights we had ben playing.

England won, play was resumed and more in built hatred of having to watch sport on tv was born.

I've met great sportsman - Geoff Hurst, David Platt, David Beckham - on meeting them together I was the one who had to ask them "Which David's which?" to an audible gasp from the room. David Platt was an absolute gentleman and told me. Beckham may have told me as well, but my hearing can't really hear noises at certain high pitches and so I missed what he might have said!

I've had lunch with Sven Goran Eriksson - we had a lovely chat about how bad the Northern Line can be, and I was introduced to Torvill and Dean by their tour manager after a show. The thighs really were huge!

And yet I can't muster any interest. After two months where lots of clever rational people capable of making life change decisions in their work threw caution to the wind and believed that England really did have a chance of winning, it is nice to be back to normal. No more alternative schedules on the tv - in fact nothing on the tv.

I remember when it seemed we had a nice long football free summer, but now it seems its only a couple of weeks before it all starts up again, and weekends are governed by it.

It's the same playing Wii. If the game involves steering a spaceship, or riding a buffalo I can do it. If it's table tennis or tennis, or anything sporty I'm crap.

I suppose it's because I resented the cold Thursday mornings on Yorkshire playing fields being bullied by an ex Welsh Rugby International posing as a games master. I played Number eight in Rugby, and for those of you au fait with the game you'll know just what a joke that is!

So for me bring on the picnic hampers, the teas, the summer dinners, but keep the sport away. In a few weeks we're off to Ascot on a Saturday. As long as I don't have to ride the bloody horses, I'll be fine.