Mrs. Ottawacker has a sick day

It’s too early to blame the visit to the office, but Mrs. Ottawacker was sick today – and she is never sick. This does not augur well for the rest of the household.
 
Started the new translation. Was running late all day – and even did the unthinkable and took Ottawacker Jr. to Ichiban for a flying pain au chocolat breakfast. He thought all his birthdays had come at one. They have. Rain. Rain. More rain.
 
Afternoon was the Liverpool vs. Bologna match in the Champions League. I’d spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get an Italian friend tickets for his son. I’d managed to do it, and placed him in among friendly fans (the aggression is completely overstated), but the son had had to pull out, so it felt like a lot of work done and favours called in for nothing. Oh well. This sense of “meh” once again permeated the match. A comfortable(ish) 2-0 win, but we are no longer an exciting team to watch. I’d rather have the 5-4s and anguish than the 2-0s and lethargy.
 
Took Ottawacker Jr. to his evening practice – and watched a fair bit. Chatted with Philip’s mum (whose name I have completely forgotten). She and her husband had returned from a year in Annecy – and had seemed to have had a fantastic time. I managed to keep the jealousy reasonably hidden.