I HAVE just finished binge-watching Game of Thrones in an epic eight-season marathon effort.
No, I haven’t been living under a rock and yes, I realise the final season came out more than 16 months ago.
But I was playing catch-up you see.
I actually started watching the award-winning medieval fantasy drama when it first came out nine years ago and made it to season four before getting distracted and turning to something else.
Watching a man’s eyes explode as they were pushed into his skull probably didn’t help.
But I was forced to start over for a very specific reason: Cards Against Humanity.
If you’ve never played, it’s a hilarious party game where players have to complete fill-in-the-blank statements using offensive, lewd or politically incorrect words or phrases printed on playing cards.
For example. I might pull out a card that says: What’s that smell?
The rest of the players pick a statement from their pile of cards that they think I will find the funniest or most offensive.
So think, ‘dead parents’, ‘a cooler full of organs’ or ‘Grandma’.
And they’re the least licentious cards I can think of.
Anyway, the card game has become a Friday night routine for me and the girls’ dad and second mum during our weekly changeovers.
Well, it was until lockdown of course.
Anywho, we became so addicted that Amanda (mum number two) began buying up every new edition to keep things new and interesting.
There’s the absurd box, red box, green box, blue box, geek pack and Disney version (which is not rated PG in case you were thinking of getting it for your kids) among many others.
One of the latest editions is Game of Thrones.
Which is why I needed to watch the show, otherwise: A. I would be at a severe disadvantage (lowering my chances of winning which I was not about to let happen) and B. spoiler alerts!
So, for the past five weeks, I methodically plugged away through each season, one by one, until, last Tuesday, I watched the 60th and final episode.
By that stage, I had seen so much blood, gore and death, I felt like I was suffering from PTSD.
If I had have watched the show like most people, I would have had 12 months to recover after each season before diving into the next.
Instead, I spent almost every day watching at least one episode and drooling over Jon Snow, laughing at Tyrion Lannister, love-hating Jaime Lannister, hating Cersei Lannister, girl-crushing on Daenerys Targaryen and admiring Arya Stark.
It became part of my life.
And now it’s over, I feel kind of sad and lost.
What do I do now with my life?
I guess I’ll have a lot more free time.
And because we’re in lockdown, that free time will either be spent at home, in the supermarket or exercising around town.
The girls and I have taken up mountain bike riding through the forest, thanks to my new cycling nut friend whose name almost appears in the Riv more often than mine.
But when lockdown is over and we finally get our social lives back, I will be ready for game night.
And when those cards are dealt, I plan to take the iron throne.
But if I don’t, I fear I will not be the most graceful of losers.
For the night is dark and full of terrors.
And winter is here.
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