The match finished over half an hour ago, and I think it's only just sunk in. Okay, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't spectacular, but England bloody won. Nail biting? I have no nails left at all after that last half of the match. And okay, I admit it; I'd written us off before it even started. I started watching the match convinced that Australia were going to slaughter us. I was wrong, and I'm rather happy about that now.
I'd intended to spend the afternoon writing. I'm still wandering around in a vaguely caffiene and adrenaline fueled daze at the moment after the rugby. Once I've calmed down and had some more tea I might be able to start writing. And I think all the neighbours in the other flats now know that I'm an England rugby fan (if they didn't before) after all the shouting.