Enjoying not being part of it

I will start this post by a great unknown line. Last Wednesday, I went to a meeting at work. The person holding it told me: "So you are not into football". Stupidly I asked why: England was of course playing, which I had barely noticed. I was the only invited person who attended the meeting.

Today England played again, and lost, but I barely watch the game. If it wasn't for my wife being disappointed, I would not have cared at all about the game. I went in the garden instead, put down the picnic towel we had bought earlier on and I read. It was (and is still) the hottest day of the year, everything was silent outside but for the far away background noise of TVs. The town was otherwise so quiet I could have been the only living person here. I was alone, an outsider, not being part of that moment and not caring one bit.