weekend
I drove to the magic county of Essex on Friday. Driving anywhere in the UK on a Friday is just plain dumb. The A14 was nose to tail for its entire length. Four hours to get from Tamworth to Chelmsford. Our roads are crap & I blame Tony Blair. When I arrived home my father had already gone to the pub. I would have cursed but he had left me a bowl of welks in the fridge. Cant ask for better than that.
On Saturday I went with my father on our annual pilgrimage to the hallowed turf of Twickenham. I forget how much I enjoy this day out. Sitting on the train sharing the Independent. Supping quality ale in the white cross. The walk to the ground (now with a new route with a pub half way. Its slightly longer but we get an extra beer & avoid having to pee in the allotments). The sheer volume of the national anthem sung by 80,000 drunks in a confined space. The rugby match is almost incidental. Which, given England’s performance is a good thing. In the first half we almost looked like a side. Our pack was functioning, the positional kicking was far from world class but tolerable and, although uncoordinated and inept, our backs produced some good individual play. There was an air of expectation. After all, you can’t question England’s fitness, a good team talk and we would dominate the second half. No idea what Robinson said to the team at half time but the second half was a nightmare of incompetence. The South African back line came good, and whilst I remain unconvinced that endless drop goal attempts are in the spirit of the game, it certainly worked for them. Suffice to say we left before full time, although we could still hear the crowd boo the England side off the pitch from Twickenham station. Time to sack the Coach and the captain me thinks. As do everyone except the coach and the captain.
Anyway we rounded the day of with more beer and a very nice curry. All in all a damn fine day out.
On Sunday I popped round my friend Cabij’s. She is a headmistress. Unfortunately, due to some rather silly health and safety rules regarding asbestos she doesn’t actually have a school. She did explain how she was coping but I wasn’t really listening. I think she teaches in a field and has to wrestle bears. Anyway she is a little stressed. I have suggested she could unwind by making pornography. She hit me, but I think she’s coming round to the idea.
I returned home to find major progress in the bathroom department. The airing cupboard has been rebuilt following my late night temper tantrum with a lump hammer. The bath is in the right place. The toilet flushes & the units are in the right place. I actually start to believe it may be sorted by Christmas. So, just time for a quick nap before the monthly quiz at the crown. I awoke at 2am in the armchair, quiz long over & back very stiff. Still, all in all a damn good weekend.
On Saturday I went with my father on our annual pilgrimage to the hallowed turf of Twickenham. I forget how much I enjoy this day out. Sitting on the train sharing the Independent. Supping quality ale in the white cross. The walk to the ground (now with a new route with a pub half way. Its slightly longer but we get an extra beer & avoid having to pee in the allotments). The sheer volume of the national anthem sung by 80,000 drunks in a confined space. The rugby match is almost incidental. Which, given England’s performance is a good thing. In the first half we almost looked like a side. Our pack was functioning, the positional kicking was far from world class but tolerable and, although uncoordinated and inept, our backs produced some good individual play. There was an air of expectation. After all, you can’t question England’s fitness, a good team talk and we would dominate the second half. No idea what Robinson said to the team at half time but the second half was a nightmare of incompetence. The South African back line came good, and whilst I remain unconvinced that endless drop goal attempts are in the spirit of the game, it certainly worked for them. Suffice to say we left before full time, although we could still hear the crowd boo the England side off the pitch from Twickenham station. Time to sack the Coach and the captain me thinks. As do everyone except the coach and the captain.
Anyway we rounded the day of with more beer and a very nice curry. All in all a damn fine day out.
On Sunday I popped round my friend Cabij’s. She is a headmistress. Unfortunately, due to some rather silly health and safety rules regarding asbestos she doesn’t actually have a school. She did explain how she was coping but I wasn’t really listening. I think she teaches in a field and has to wrestle bears. Anyway she is a little stressed. I have suggested she could unwind by making pornography. She hit me, but I think she’s coming round to the idea.
I returned home to find major progress in the bathroom department. The airing cupboard has been rebuilt following my late night temper tantrum with a lump hammer. The bath is in the right place. The toilet flushes & the units are in the right place. I actually start to believe it may be sorted by Christmas. So, just time for a quick nap before the monthly quiz at the crown. I awoke at 2am in the armchair, quiz long over & back very stiff. Still, all in all a damn good weekend.
posted by Old Man Rich at 12:10 PM
11 Comments:
Mr Vickery doesnt like you very much.
When I am crap at my job I get berated by my boss.
And at £70 a ticket I consider myself one of Mr Vickery's employers. So when England are crap I reserve the right to boo them off the field.
I Agrree Rich at £70 a ticket i'd expect more for my money. Booing is still in very poor taste though. Perhaps everyone should have instead writen a strongly worded letter to the English RFU with suggestions as to which particular method of death Robinson should suffer. Nothing wrong with a good buggering with a red hot poker if you ask me. Its character building.
No, no, no! You've got it all wrong - Robinson must stay. He's directly responsible for maintaining the finest noise in English rugby...
...Brian Moore whining, snivelling and bleating - marvellous!
Good grief, 70 bloody pounds! I would at least want to see a rugby league side run on the pitch for that money. Not a bunch of flower arranging nice boys with shirts the same colour at the end of the match as at the beginning.
I thought I could sense you in my endz...
What's a welk?
It's always good to take a route with another beer & bathroom stop.
I was in Crawley a couple of weeks ago and I couldn't believe how expensive everything was! Maybe it's the dollar/pound exchange rate, because I do much better in countries on the Euro...
And with the security at the airport, I am trying to avoid the London trips now. Bummer.
Mmmmmm. Thanks.
I am back!
What's all this about then?
"The airing cupboard has been rebuilt following my late night temper tantrum with a lump hammer" HUH? Say what?
I am in awe. Another example of how us Americans do not speak english! *L*
Post a Comment
<< Home