Boy I had a fun weekend, peppered with live sport, beauty, tragedy, Guinness, fine wine and really awful wine.
On Friday I received a call with instructions to dust of my casual slacks, my shirt and my sports blazer and tie combo, a’ la Alan Partridge. I ignored the blazer as I don’t have one, but did make an effort to wipe the gathered dust from my brogues, try to find a tie; they all seem to be black revealing that I have been to a few funerals of late, that is a sign of ageing, but i’m not that old, my folks seem to spend their time at funerals and discussing their peers’ problems. Of which there are many at this time in their life, it must be really sad and I am absolutely not in any hurry to get to that point in my life. So I didn’t bother with the tie. The reason for the fancy garb was a friend of mine had been given free tickets to the rugby in his mate’s private box! Free food and a modest amount of free booze as his mate was loaded and had just returned from skiing where his transfer to chalet from airport was done by helicopter. Yes, that sort of wealth; he’s a Granny farmer, there’s lots of money in that I’m sure.
Driven to the ground, ushered in, and escorted to the box where a lady asked us what we would like to drink so as we don’t have to queue for the bar! We sat down to chicken breast wrapped in crispy bacon, roasted winter veg and a red wine gravy, plenty of wine in case the Guinness ran dry, and full length sliding doors opening out onto the Worcester end of the stadium.
“Come on Warriors!”
As the game progressed, more beer was ordered and nobody really knew whose round it was if at all, at half time; a cheese board. Could this have been any more perfect? The game was pretty poor until the second half of the second half (forth quarter for the Americans, but I’d just like to make the distinction we only have 2 halves officially), then Worcester started to come back at Bath from behind, finally swiping victory from the jaws of defeat as the scrum in front of the Bath try line, was continually collapsed by Bath and various other infringements of what I have no idea. Anyway Worcester won with the last kick of the game 19 minutes into extra time.
I was then picked up by Mrs T, and driven to our friends house outside Worcester, we arrived just as the boys were going to the supermarket with a stop off for Bathams at the Huntsman Inn (Bathams is a very much coveted beer in Worcestershire and is not freely available in many pubs, so the chance to fill up before cooking the curry was a given.
Sunday goes without saying; I felt bloody awful. We went off road and found a beautiful Yew, possibly 100’s of years old. Once you reach the tall trees turn left and walk for about 300 metres, then when you see the hanging oak turn right into the thicket and its about 100 metres in.
Benny was sick all over N’s kitchen floor and I had to clean it up with toilet roll and kitchen towel, the after effects of a large vomit from Benny were decidedly less marked than the effect of the retching and phantom vomits from your narrator as he cleaned up the diabolical mess. It makes me shiver as I recall the interlude, post walk and pre coffee. Once again that Dog has ruined my day; but not enough to pop to the Lenchford for a couple of swift afternoon pints with friends. The nausea was held back for an hour and a half whilst we engaged in some serious fun chat and catching up since the Christmas break.
Needless to say, the nausea returned, eating an obscene amount of roast chicken and all the trimmings didn’t help. I must lose weight…