I noticed an anonymous comment from Monday’s blog that I hadn’t mentioned the weekend football match. Well, I’m still laughing so much about Sunday’s shambles that I can barely type.
Not true actually. I’m as disappointed as most English fans, especially as it was the Germans who won the match.
I’d been told early Sunday afternoon just as I was settling down to watch the Valencia Grand Prix and then the footie, to ‘get showered, get some wine and be in the car in 30 minutes- we’re going to a BBQ.’
‘But we only got back from the last BBQ less than 12 hours ago’, which was true but it was one of those weekends like London buses– you don’t have a barbie for a while then two come along together! So I did as I was told and had to leave the Grand Prix about 2 minutes before it started. I taped it and watched it later not knowing the result but had I known that a German had won it, I would not have given the England football team a cat in hells chance (wherever did that saying come from?). I mean omens are omens.
Anyway, we arrived at the BBQ which was a huge affair and when I went to shake the host’s hand whom I’d only met very briefly a few weeks ago (the host, not his hand), he said, ‘so where’s your lederhosen then?’
Well I couldn’t work this one out. Had he thought I was German when we’d met two weeks previously? I’m sure if he’d asked his wife, Fiona, who she’d invited to the BBQ and she’d said, ‘Oh that nice Julie and her drunken husband’, and he’d said, ‘Oh no – not that German guy’, she would have put him right, after all both Fiona and I had had a long conversation about our respective ‘bad behaviour’ at the last BBQ, so she definitely knew I wasn’t German.
Anyway, mountains of food were devoured, the wine flowed and then the time arrived and everybody piled into the house to watch the game. It was then that I worked out the ‘lederhosen’ comment. Being a Scot, they all naturally thought I’d be supporting Germany but I put them straight and started shouting encouragement for England but it was difficult to be heard as a ‘gaggle’ of ladies had taken the best seats and were screaming at the top of their voices, which I thought was all very impressive until one asked for the offside law to be explained to her!
Well, as the first half unfolded and England went 2-0 down, virtually everybody headed back outside including myself. Well – I hate torture especially when it’s being administered by the Germans! There were a few catcalls from the screaming ladies about ‘deserting the team in their hour of need’ but I actually thought that a glass of wine and a cigarette at that precise moment sounded like a better bet.
When I got back to the table where my wife and a few other ‘ladies about town’ were seated, I sensed that they didn’t actually want my company and as they were discussing the merits of ‘Rampant Rabbits and whether they were dishwasher proof’, I understood why and left, heading back inside to the TV room again.
By this time, England had scored, had had another unfairly chalked off and were looking ok but then the collapse came and I thought they were lucky to get away with ‘only’ a 4-1 thrashing.
Needless to say, the men were all a bit morose and headed back to the bar area whilst the ladies at the table all seemed to be rather excited. Don’t know why!