polo sweedie

So today I spent the afternoon watching the Nations Cup polo match on the terrace at the Desert Palm hotel. It's not a bad life really, the sun shone, I caught up with my bro and amazing sis-in-law, and my godmother and her boyf (can you be a boyf at 60? Ach- whatever) and the prentals. The DP crew were out in force, and it was an amazing blend of community spirit and some seriously good polo. They had the world number 1 - a 10 goaler called Alberto Cambrioso (sp?) - playing on Ali al Bawadi's team (natch). To balance, they'd flown over the Captain of the USA polo team - an 8 goaler called Nick something. The commentator informed us at one point that, in Nick's 'spare' time, he's a Ralph Lauren model. Naturally. It's a mad, mad world these people live in.

I'm now off to Madinat to catch up with the girls, who bizarrely enough have also been watching polo today, but at the ranches. I am justifying this teenage devil-may-care behaviour with the excuse that I'm diversifying my options to meet the maximum number of people possible - following the excuse of that wise old (ha) owl Johnny Q. Can't believe it has reached the point that JQ's advice seems sage, but then, you've got to grab the breaks while you can. Or something. Asta la vista, baby. Damn mobile blogging, tis tres dangereuse.