by We’re having beautiful warm, sunny weather to start the month. I wish it could stay like this for the rest of the spring and summer. The birds twittering away and the storks up the lamp-posts and the pungent smell of the lime trees and the ripe fruit, but still only 20-something degrees. You can dream. But no, before long it will be unbearably, brain-addlingly hot.
The snooker. Oh man. Yesterday’s match between the old guard – Mark Williams and John Higgins – was bloody brilliant, made even better by the fact that I was invested in it (not literally) and I really wanted Williams to win. Which somehow he did. Williams was unlucky to be 5-1 down, but had clawed it back to 8-8 at the end of the second session. I watched the final session while doing the cleaning. Higgins was well short of his best and Williams took advantage to win all four frames before the interval. Four up, five to play. Just about there. But Higgins was a changed man after the break. He played with such confidence and was deadly accurate even with his long potting. At 12-10, Williams finally got a decent chance. He potted the red, but the referee called a five-point foul. What? He’d brushed the blue while leaning over to take the shot. Higgins duly knocked in a century, then another sizeable break to make it 12-12. Ugh, this is horrible now. I was in the middle of preparing a maths quiz, plus I had an imminent online English lesson with a boy and the way the final frame was going I’d miss the end of the match. Even though you’re a very nice little chappy, do we have to meet right now? They were on the colours when my lesson started. I’d brought up a stream so I could keep one eye on it. Higgins stood over the not-so-easy blue that would win him the match. He tried to pot it at pace, but it rattled in the jaws. (Williams would have tried rolling it in instead, in that wonderful way of his.) Williams then potted the blue (which was just as hard for him), then pink and black for victory. It finished ten minutes into the lesson. The result put me in a particularly good mood, and I think the rest of my lesson went better than if the snooker hadn’t been a factor.
There’s always been lots to like about Mark Williams, who is now 50. (Higgins turns 50 next month.) His ability to see shots, his creativity, his smooth cue action, and his incredible unflappability. It’s like he doesn’t give a damn out there. I wouldn’t mind being like him. Plus he’s got a great sense of humour. He must be dyslexic judging by all the random letters in the messages he sends out. Or maybe again he just doesn’t care. He’s one cool customer, that’s for sure. Yesterday brought back memories of the Williams–Higgins semi-final in 2000 which I watched with my grandmother who was Welsh, like Williams is. The Welshman came from 15-11 down to win 17-15. Now he faces Judd Trump in the semis. It’s a repeat of the fantastic semi from three years ago which Trump won 17-16. This time I expect Trump will win rather more easily, though I hope I’m wrong. The other semi is between Ronnie O’Sullivan and Zhao Xintong. These are absolute marathons. It’s been an excellent tournament so far; I’ve enjoyed it much more than last year’s – it didn’t help that I was going through one of my tricky patches.
Today is a public holiday in Romania, so it’s not quite as busy as on a normal Thursday. I do wish Mum and Dad could have come earlier to take in Easter, the school holidays, today’s public holiday, and so on.
Yesterday the maths girl, who has now had dozen of lessons at my place, told me she was scared of Kitty. She must have been too polite to say it before.
