The English Vice…

…finds me standing beside the road in the cold damp morning air, hungover.  BritInCalifornia and Sanityfound have to bear some responsibility for the hangover. But I will draw a discrete veil over the shenanigans that caused the hangover (well that and alcohol-induced memory loss).

So here I am standing in the cold air waiting for a lift. Destination: Twickenham, Objective: Praying for a Miracle. It’s not been a good month for the England Rugby team, but hey-ho we must turn the corner sometime. Maybe we will rebound from a little difficulty with the Saffers last week, the Crims before that,  and maybe the Porcine Airforce will put in a aerobatic display.

On the trip in Dave’s van we discuss the prospects and hope for anything less than a drubbing. Arriving in Twickenham we park in Tesco’s car park, quickly unload, and I push Dave in his wheelchair into the stadium and join the queue for the Guinness bar and some hair of the dog. A couple of pints later we take up position at the edge of the pitch in the western stand by the northern 22 meter line. Some eye-candy masquerading as classical musicians perform a couple of numbers before the national anthems (damn I should have brought along my camera), then the New Zealand team perform the Haka, a traditional Maori challenge, and 85,000 Englishmen (and women) roar their defiance with “Swing Low Sweet Chariot“, waves of sound rolling around the stadium, which has never sounded so good (except maybe the 1999 world cup semi-final between France and New Zealand). Makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.   And I have been lucky enough to have seen more games at Twickenham than I should probably admit to.

The Game begins and England hang on grimly through the first half, making too many mistakes, giving too much away, but the Kiwi goal kicker Dan Carter is having a poor game and squanders chances. Maybe England do have a chance. In the second half, despite some warming soup, our spirits sink as the All Blacks step up a gear. The English are pressurised into more mistakes, and New Zealand finally run out comfortable winners, but Dave and I are already in his van edging out of the car park to beat the traffic home. All that’s left to do is to work on getting another hangover.

~ by @mmonyte on November 30, 2008.

10 Responses to “The English Vice…”

  1. oh sure… I don’t get to have any fun… you guys suck it all up. And no mention of cookies either!

  2. I am still waiting for that photographic evidence of Friday’s revels that you promised me (tap, tap, tap) …

  3. The photos are on Brit’s camera. Fortunately he was able to procure a new memory card after someone (no name, no pack drill) left the card in the card reader. As instructed, I took some pictures on his behalf. Cookies? Well due to the haste in transferring cases (we needed to get down the pub sharpish) I seem to have missed out. 😦 But as my car is still in Hedgerley (I hope) and not burned out or otherwise vandalized (I hope) there may be a pack in there. I’ll find out later when I brave the rain to walk up there and fetch it back.

  4. Sure blame the poor souf effrikan who needed to drink in order to keep warm *munches on another cookie*

  5. Car was OK, but no cookies 😦 I’ll have to burglarise SF, all I need to do is work out how to sneak past the CCTV camera right outside the front door.

  6. Here is an invisible man t-shirt that should work for that purpose:

  7. Not sure it would hide a fat bloke like me.

  8. I can’t believe you didn’t get any cookies! I packed so many cookies I could hardly stand up after so many. Dang! Sorry….

  9. I assumed I was in my usual location – the dawghouse

  10. Good write-up. Miracle didn’t happen. 😦

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