From the sidelines
Your reliable correspondent was reading the blogs regarding the 7’s at Twickenham so he thought he would pop down and cheer on the chaps, as it’s not often that Watford RFC get a chance to play on such hallowed turf especially against the likes of Saracens, Leicester, British Army etc.
Up he got on Saturday morning bright and early with his faithful companion and headed to the junction.
“Two first class tickets to the great event in London to-day my good man” With the tickets firmly clasped in his mitt he boarded the train to the great event. Thinking that the journey may take some time he plugged in his a-pad, e-pid, o-pod thing and listened to some good old rugby songs such as Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Alouetta, Land of Hope & Glory nodded off dreaming of Lenny charging down the wing rounding the likes of Don Barrell & Josh Lewsey and scoring a try under the sticks.
“Well done Lenny” I cried in full voice - whoops I was dreaming and everyone is looking at me. Bit embarrassing. My trusty companion told me to shut up in no uncertain terms. Anyway we must have arrived, everyone is getting off the train.
Forward to cheer the boys on.
Hmmm long time since I have been to Twickers – looks a bit different – well they’ve got plenty of dosh always adding a bit here and there to the ground.
Up to the turnstiles – paid the good chap a few sovereigns and in we go and headed to the pitch.
Excuse me sir, a young man shouted, you can’t drink beer without a glass. Seems reasonable so I paid him a few more sovereigns bright and was given a fancy drinking vessel, seems like it’s going to be a heavy session at this game I thought to myself.
Moving forward with my trusty companion I entered a great hall full of jesters, Robin Hood lookalikes, armies of Frenchmen, nurses, Adoph Hitler, Friar Tuck’s, members of the British Beard Club 1 heavily hirsute and many more strange people.
In front of us was a stand containing 30 barrels of the finest English ale. My companion & I decided it would be rude to walk past and not imbibe in a glass or two before the game.
I did think it a little strange as I thought as you only need seven players for a sevens tournament, there might have been a few WRFC supporters around. Oh well perhaps they saw me first.
We decided now to head to the game and again in front of us was another vast stall stocked with 50 of the finest English ales. Thinking that the RFU had gone to all this bother, for a good build up to the games we had best have another few tinctures. Maybe there is a delayed start – leaves on the pitch or Martin streaking perhaps.
Well my friends this scenario of finding more and more stalls selling these fine brews in front of was repeated for many an hour.
Eventually I seemed to have difficulty walking, I kept bumping into people, missing my mouth and evenly distributing beer all over my clothing. I manage to turn round from whence I came to see that I had walked in a great circle and was back at the beginning. I looked around this great hall, which now resembled a medieval banquet, there must have been 20 stalls and I had visited them all and not even seen one game of sevens.
Instead of my trusty companion being just one person, she has turned into three; everybody seems to be a bit hazy and spinning. Oh no – smash, crash, bang wallop, your poor correspondent has inadvertently tackled the beer glasses table from where I started this misadventure, knocking them all over the floor and me with it . Blood, sweat and beer everywhere.
Oh that’s jolly decent of you good rugby chaps to help me up as two large burly fellows lifted me from the floor. “I’ll be OK now thanks. Errr hang on where you are taking me, I’m OK now let go, let go, I’ve not even seen one game yet.”
“Go on get out; don’t come back here until you can hold your drink you lightweight”
Ouch, ouch, ouch, I didn’t know that humans could bounce down concrete steps.
Later I looked up from the steps where I had been laying for the past two hours and saw a sign, which made me think I might have got the wrong train from Willesden Junction
“Campaign for Real Ale and Earls Court plc welcomes everyone to the 30th Great British Beer Festival 2010”
As we made our way back to leafy Hertfordshire, my trusty companion said “Next time we’ll drive there, we might get to see a game”
1 http://www.thebritishbeardclub.org/index.php
