Had a very football-centric weekend. Now as you know I love football (however I haven't yet stooped wear the face paint or to put Engerland flags on the motor) but at one point I could have given up watching the game altogether.
It wasn't the much discussed incident on Saturday night when Robert Green stooped to save a worm that the big nasty ball was about to squash, although that was a pretty incredulous moment, watched by the Cheese family amidst the noisy surroundings of the scout hall, generously hosted by the coaches of young Mr Cheese's football team.
Neither was it the diet of back to back games over the weekend coupled with fantasy football talk and wallchart filling-in as football crazy Uncle C came to stay.
No. It came as I watched a 6-a side football tournament on Sunday as young Mr C's team took on superior opposition in an all-comers competition in town. I vaguely recall a faint cry of 'heads' as a vigourous 30 yard shot on the pitch behind me flew over the crossbar and hit me square in the back of the head!
I managed to maintain my composure and not fall to my knees but the force of the shot was up in the 'did you spill my pint' stakes. The ringing in my ears stopped fairly soon, but gradually a stiffening of neck muscles occurred and I realised as I tried to get out of bed on Monday morning that I had probably undergone whiplash.