Paris Weekend

And so when it came down to it there was nothing really new about the French Open final. Roger Federer played well and lost. Rafael Nadal has clocked his card, got his number, sussed him out. Whatever.


So Roger is stuck on 16 grand slam titles and Rafa is into double figures now. Six of the crowns coming in Paris. Hussar for Rafa. Or perhaps that should be vamos.

As I was wearing my radio hat, the men's final wasn't my only sporting concern on Sunday. There were qualifiers for the Africa Cup of Nations and there was misery galore in Egypt as they could only draw with South Africa. Egypt are bottom of their group with two games to go and it looks unlikely that the defending champions will be there in Equatorial Guinea and Gabon in January.

Wow. I've always been quite impressed by the Egyptians. Ace passing patterns and slick ball retention. I'd really like to have seen them take on the Spanish. Chess on a field.

But it looks like the Pharoahs - nickname for the Egyptians - won't be around for 2012. Holy Pyramids, Batman.


Sticking around for the French Open final meant that I was in Paris of a Monday morning with the family and it seemed to unhinge preparation for school on Monday.

There was drama and contention. Some mutterings about child 2 not getting out of bed to turn off the alarm clock for child 1. The boy not wanting to wear sandals. Maybe they all thought they'd put on a bravura performance to highlight what fun it is at the start of the school week.


No such fun and histrionics on Tuesday morning. The alarm clock was banned on Monday night and clothes were prepared for the day ahead.

It was as orderly as a Nadal Federer final.