Travel Report
We set off in earnest, Briggsy and I. (Ernest being the name for my small automobile).
We paused only to take pictures of every possible mechanical device tearing up the M25, anything shiny/reflective or to try and fathom how to get into the motorway services, after SOMEONE drove into the lorry park section and couldn't get back towards the normal persons area.
Briggsy then very kindly offered to take over the driving. As by the time we were half way into our journey I had become noticeably twitchy at having to sit in the same chair for so long.
We left the petrol station, re-fuelled, replenished and reading the road signs. Seconds after re-joining the four lane super duper road which goes the way we wanted to... M4!! It was the M4!! I knew I'd remember it if I stalled for long enough. Ahem. Where was I?
Ah yes, we've just smoothly re-integrated ourselves into the other red shirted Lions supporters when we hit a big queue of traffic.
I suppose I should waylay your fears. Briggsy isn't a crap driver and we didn't actually HIT any traffic. I'm using an internationally recognised term for "we spent the next hour and whatever stopping and starting whilst Briggsy got to jump between first and second gears every 2 seconds"
Eventually, we threw coins at the toll booth, it opened and we sped across into Cardiff, a small country near Whales apparently.
Once in the town centre of Cardiff, which I believe is strangely enough the capital of Cardiff (that must get jolly confusing) we realised one of two things
1/ The match wasn't the small intimate affair we had first assumed it would be
or
2/ There was a meeting of Welsh gurning champions who appeared to dress in a very similar uniform to the latest Lions shirt.
We cruised the town for a while looking for somewhere to deposit the car until we stumbled across a small multi storey parking facility called something like Twyfeleddergruur car park.
This was my first mistake, not remembering the name of the car park we had parked in.
The second mistake followed very shortly when, upon my suggestion, we decided to just "follow everyone else" towards the ground. It worked a treat, but unbeknown to us we now had no actual recollection of what way we had walked from car to ground and vice versa.
The Welsh
Damn they ugly.
The Ground and the Surrounds
I won't pretend to know any more than I do so understandably I wouldn't advise quoting any of the next section to anyone whilst deep in conversation with someone about the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff.
The ground is big. There were about seven gates, after following the crowd we discovered that we were at gate 1. Hooray! We wanted to be at gate 7. Boo!
We dutifully trudged all the way around the outside of the ground. At one point passing a young girl who either really liked her nearest friend, had just had her wheelchair stolen, was actually asleep, or was completely sh1t faced.
There was a fantastic atmosphere and it was nice to see so many foreigners in their natural environment speaking their funny little language. This atmosphere was added to by Briggsy occasionally catching sight of mounted police (mounted on horse back I might add, the Cardiffians and Welsh are weird but I don't think they're that weird).
And there was a lovely moment when a large group of inebriated middle aged men cheered the Lions wives and partners into the ground as they drunkenly mistook their coach for that of the players.
Once we had walked past numerous reflective coat wearing officials and stewards, with a small whimper emanating from Briggsy on each occasion, we entered the ground and made for the food stalls.
Dinner
We hoped for - Harry Ramsden's fish and chips
We got - Hot dog
The Game
Since his argument with 50 cent has been resolved, The Game has been hard at work in the studio on his follow up album to the hugely successful debut....
Sorry, wrong game.
The game was pants. We... They, didn't play well. The Pumas came to win and should have. JW looked comfortable and converted everything he had chance to, and so earned the Lions share of the points.
Positives to take from the match... The Argentines had a nice time and I ate a Hot dog.
It seemed apparent that the squad was watered down, and they played like they had been warned not to commit, for fear of injury.
There's always a couple who forget to tuck their shirts in for the school photo
For a short time, some of the Puma's helped the Lions out by swapping sides
I can't be certain but I think they're blessing him, for his efforts.
The Specs
Firstly there was the smoker, in front and to our left. Why did we assume he was a smoker, I hear you ask? The tentative search in his coat pockets, that very gradually became a frantic scramble, until he virtually tore his pockets in search of...
shortbread.
He then clutched the shortbread in his maddeningly shaky hands as he attempted to inhale the moreish crumbly goodness in an attempt to forget about the small white sticks in his other pocket. Half time came, and he went, like a Paratrooper, shoulder rolling his way down the stands as he stealthily removed a Marlboro cigarette and a Bic lighter from his pocket ready to calm his beating heart.
In a close second was the gentleman splayed out across three and a half seats in front of us, all of which were groaning under the strain. All I can say is thank goodness the people who had booked the seat in front of us didn't appear. They would have had to fight to get onto the thing.
Lastly, there was the wife of the gentleman sat next to me. I imagine she formed part of the coaching staff. So insightful was her mid match analysis, that many around her position could be seen to lean in and hear her wise words wisdom.
The best of her critical observations were
"Oh Jesus, they keep doing that. Why don't they hold on to it?"
"Yep, pass to him, then pass to him, and then... he drops it. Why do they do that?"
"Why's he putting it down there now, he's not going to kick it is he?"
"Johnny's got it... Johnny throws it to him... that's it... oh they got it off him"
The aforementioned parking oversight
After the match, and the Puma's impromptu victory lap of the stadium to which they received rounds of applause, Briggsy and I ambled from the ground into the cool night air at around 10 pm.
The first few hundred yards we were in the thick of all the supporters, following the similar route they all seemed to be taking.
Three rather jolly Lions fans were mucking around having a good time after consuming a few pints or twenty. One was hoisted onto a friends shoulders and carried down the street via the use of a firemans lift.
His friend was too drunk to be looking and he was facing the other way, but it didn't stop twenty on lookers from spotting the fast approaching bus stop sign that his head bobbed steadily towards.
A chorus of 'Oohs' rang out as the young chaps head connected with the pole with a dull reverborating thunk. Surprisingly, he lived, and probably due to the ridiculous amounts of alcohol in his blood stream, he laughed the incident off and continued on his stagger home.
Did I mention the Welsh were ugly and thick?
Once the crowds started to disperse we began to realise that not everyone had come from the same car park. And so commenced the re-discovery of Cardiff by the English. For almost two hours we walked up hill and down dale, occasionally seeing glimpses of red shirted people off in the distance laughing heartily as they disappeared into shadows before we could beg for directions from them.
The map below is an artist's impression of the route we took
Finally, Briggsy asked a local for directions, whilst I stood a suitable distance away, pretending like I knew exactly where I was.
We reached the car park with nineteen minutes to spare before the midnight closing time. Phew!
As I navigated my way out of Cardiff, and towards bonnie England Briggsy and I discussed the disappointing result.
As we re-entered England, Briggsy drifted off to sleep, and I began to create ways to stay awake during the drive back. I did the following...
Listened to Coldplay - Parachutes
then Listened to Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head
then ate the rest of the Jelly Tots for a sugary rush
turned the heating to cold and began to freeze my face
took the racing line on the motorway when there was no other traffic about
drank a can of R Whites Lemonade
listened to Embrace - The Good Will Out
tried to work out my ETA by doing arithmetic in my head as we passed each motorway sign with the remaining miles to London marked on it
Whilst Briggsy slept in the passenger seat, resembling a kidnap victim with a coat draped over her upper body to shield her from the sub-zero atmosphere within the car.
I arrived outside Briggsy's gaff at 02:30 having made pretty reasonable time, with my car making all the usual pings and ticking noises that one does when they've just gone the fastest their ever likely to go.
All in all it was a good evening despite the disappointing match, sub standard dinner and unplanned hike around Cardiff.
That's me, easily pleased.
