wicked bout and i got to shave daves head at the end of the vid for charideeeee.

we all went 80′s stylee in the true romsey fashion – paid for it the next day though – just going out nearly killed me….damn you glandular fever!!!

i need some more fitness before i break myself anymore.

im on it….nearly.

i feel like im heartbroken

Post bout.

Soooo, the first bout for romsey all over and done with. where do i start.

Initially i was excites about 3 things.

1: Having a break for 3 days. I love my kids with all my heart, but being a single mum can sure deserve you a random break.

2: adrenalin. I miss it so much after giving up my kickboxing.

3: Playing at being a yoof with my teamies. not having to be a grown up smart arse for work and getting away with acting a complete twat for the duration of the trip.

None of these 3 failed me.

However – their were several factors in shitniess for the start of the weekend.
1: Voodoo had broken her leg two weeks prior, so we were one hard ass down, but Caz stepped up to become a grown up roller girl (and did a pretty fine job)

2: I got a parking ticket, but my fellow spastic riders all chipped in to go thirds on the moment i now like to call ‘nightmare on the sunshine bus’

3: lost my bankcard. lots of shuffling around on moneys over the phone kinda secured that was solved.

So….. trek to the airport complete. see fellow billies… ‘howdy’ all round and off we go. everyone’s tired already and take the opportunity to sleep on the ‘airbus’. I however cannot seem to stop myself from shouting the holy word “Spenegie” upon roaring take off. then i calm down.

we arrive. its wet.
taxi to the hotel. its raining.
change and walk to resteraunt. getting wetter.
eat whilst making puddles on the floor.
go home. wet.
ironically, bath.
talk random subjects to Dusti until silly oclock in the darkness.
sleep.

wake up at 7 (ish)
eat a 15 course breakfast.
prepare for battle.

First whistle – in my head…
*whistle* ok mo fo, lets do this. thats mollie touching my hand right? ok we can be like 6ft wide between us….that seems to work….

Fuck it. whack em.

This theory kinda worked until i jammed…..

Knees more wobbly than i can ever describe, i actually felt nerves creep in (finally – where do they go?) thought id try the upper hand and take the jammer out on the whistle……worked……..strolled round the track and ten pin bowled a clan outta the way.

what happened next was like a nightmare coming true. in slow motion i hear “number 31, back blocking off”

shhhiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

off i go and sit with the entire room thinking wtf was she thinking and at the same time, the scores tied nicely at 71/71. whistle blew.

oh fuck. im still jammer, and ive got to try and score more points.

after trying to get lead jammer, im called back out of play and have to wait til the back of the pack. i have nothing left in me, im literally skating using my eye muscles it seems. i get round a few times and score a few times, how i dont know to this day, cos i really wanted that little builder mouse from the plane, to drag me through a little hole in the wall.

rest/dizziness

“darmo! you on” ooohhh ffuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkk

Power line up. stop their frickin jammer at all costs.

still dont recall anything after that whistle, it’s a blur. all i know its we squeezed three points more and that made us very happy bunnies.

after that rain didnt bother me.

its 4 days after the bout and i hurt like a bitch, and im a bitch that likes pain, it still hurts to walk.

thank the lord i stocked up on soap n glory goodies before i went.

and for the record….i didnt see anyone ‘turn’ lesbian from watching either.

ps: my card was found on the seat in my car at the airport upon return.