The men's final from Australia this morning was so much more entertaining than the ladies' yesterday. Grief, the ladies' final was over so quickly (they only played 15 games) and was so one sided. Poor entertainment and not a good spectacle at all. The men on the other hand played 5 sets (51 games) and it was absolutely thrilling. The winners walked away with the same prize money. I know it's an old, talked to death, subject and I'm all for equality but somehow it doesn't feel right to me.
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So there I was chatting to Jan about dieting (she's trying very hard and I'm not) and the conversation gets round to living longer. Like a 'bit longer' if you don't smoke, drink no alcohol, eat sparingly, eat more fruit and veg and all that good stuff. OK, that's all well and good but the extra time doesn't happen when you're young and fit. As I see it the 'bit longer' comes when you're old, decrepit and, by definition, at the end of your days. You're probably sitting in an old people's home with a tea cosy on your head, a blanket round your knees and smelling of piss. (Sounds about right for you - Ed) And it strikes me that that's when you'd rather be dead. Bugger an extra few weeks and call me irresponsible (you're irresponsible - Ed) but I'll have a nice big cream cake now, thank you very much, and stuff the extra time!
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