The other night I was woken by the sounds of the next-door-neighbour-lady being murdered.
When I’d reinserted myself correctly into this reality, I came to the conclusion that New Zealand must have done something good in the World Cup. She’s a New Zealander and she was screaming at an odd time of night.
I don’t watch soccer/football when the World Cup isn’t on, so I’m not getting on that bandwagon and starting to watch it now. But, I am very well informed about who’s doing how well – and in real time.
I live in a part of town that is not adequately summed up by the term “multi-cultural”. As a third generation, English speaking, white guy, I stand out like Snow White at an ANC conference… for dwarves.
If Italy does well, my neighbours (two over) go mental. If any South American team, but particularly Brazil, are on the make, the reaction from my neighbours across the landing can be measured on the Richter scale. Downstairs - I haven’t worked them out, but the don’t seem to like middle Euro teams. Spain, one over on the other side will party till their bums fall off. But my favourite reaction comes from the Portuguese.
I don’t have any Portuguese neighbours within eye-shot, but within ear-shot, there’s a big community. During the last World Cup, the Portuguese were doing alright (for a bit) and every time they played, the entire suburb would drop its bundle. They’d block the streets, play music, and, in my favourite move, burn their own houses down with the number of fireworks they were letting off. It only makes it better though, burning your house down to celebrate a soccer victory. It makes it all the sweeter for some reason.
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