Visions.

Probably everyone has watched Euros already. If you like gymnastics enough to find this blog, you like it enough to find the videos on youtube. 

I don’t feel like doing a review; it’s too depressing. The best thing in the whole competition was Chelaru’s twenty-foot-high reinvention of the sheep jump (@ 1:00) :

I did, however, have a dream that might raise everyone’s spirits: On Friday night, I dreamed that Mustafina won the World bars title this year (Beth can have London). My mother has a long track record of witchy-woo type behaviour, predicting deaths, etc., so I thought I’d inherited the gift and wanted to pass it on and cheer you all up.

The next day, it turned out that the meniscus tear was actually a crock of shit. ACL, and she’ll be out for much longer. Worlds is now a no-no, and I am not the next Mystic Meg.

But then I also had another dream about trying to shag my husband in a toilet under Downing Street too (he wasn’t up for it). And that hasn’t happened yet either. So make of that what you will.

If anything, it’s probably a sign that I shouldn’t have a whole bottle of cheap wine before bed.

– Clara

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