Nail-biting in the middle of the second half, a slight feeling of purely having a kicking advantage, but beautifully finished with Wigglesworth's try. A good romp.
A great day for Wigglesworth and a jolly exciting game all round. I'd been extremely pessimistic about the outcome, so it's nice to be proved wrong once in a while. And the vin rouge is going down nicely too!
I wish I 'got' rugby ... (sigh) but I just don't, even though my late husband was a bit of a rugby hero. He was voted Victor Ludorum in his final year at school, played rugby for England Schoolboys and then for the British Army, when he was a young lieutenant. He tried very hard to explain the wonders of it all but it didn't work, which was extraordinary really, because he was a bit of an Adonis and, in all other respects, I hung on his every word.In the meantime, one of my god-daughters, who comes from a rugby-playing/rugby-loving family, married a professional rugby player. And with two sets of wins (three boys and a girl) seems set on producing her own team.But I still don't get it ...My own daughter loathes rugby and much prefers watching the Beautiful Game (ducks to miss flying rugby balls, catcalls, boos etc). And, as I cannot tell a lie, I have to admit that I do too. I also support Arsenal. (We Londoners - even ex-Londoners - are funny that way.) I fear there is now no hope at all. Will anyone ever speak to me again?
Don't worry, D. I have considered your confession very carefully and decided that I can just about bring myself to carry on speaking to you!! I am completely indifferent about football, can't grasp the point of cricket at all, and the sports pages of the weekend newspapers are always the first into the recycling bin. I went to a mixed rugby-playing school so hung around a lot at weekends watching boyfriends (or prospective boyfriends!) getting muddy and bloodied but never really understood the rules and my presence on the touchline had little to do with enjoying the sport. I only really 'got into' rugby properly once My Boy started playing and watching, so it's a relatively recent thing in my life. The 2003 World Cup was the watershed - I surprised myself by following every game and getting terribly involved and excited by it all. Before then, watching sport on telly had been anathema to me. It's probably just a phase I'm going through and I'll grow out of it soon (and maybe take up knitting or needlepoint or possibly even a little light housework instead . . .). (On the other hand, with four other family members heavily involved at Colchester RFC, I seem set to continue spending much of every Sunday between Sept and May hanging around up there in all weathers like a good rugby mum. I pass much of the time in the clubhouse, with a plate of chips, a pint of Guinness and a good literary novel!)
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