The sound of summer
IN this warm weather, it hasn’t been necessary to watch the World Cup to gather something of its progress. During matches, concerted roars and groans have reverberated through the streets and open windows. The noise is strikingly different from the more familiar waves of sound that emanate from the cricket lovers at the nearby Oval. Because the football fans are dispersed in front of televisions, the cheering comes from a multitude of different places and at different volumes. In both cases, however, it’s nice to hear the human voice in the capital triumphing over the omnipresent car or plane. It’s a sound of summer.
There has evidently been some discussion of the World Cup at school, too. Over breakfast this week, one of the children held forth with absolute conviction about the fortunes of a Siberian team that I’m pretty certain—if it exists at all —plays under another name. Wimbledon, by contrast, has yet to catch their imagination.
Rather more immediate than either has been the prospect of school sports day. It’s clearly not something they relish and I do sympathise. Nevertheless, when the morning came, I didn’t hesitate to overlook a rather half-hearted attempt at sudden, feigned sickness and callously sent them on their way. JG