Well at least I enjoyed my day
Saturday 3rd September 2016: London Double Header at Twickenham Stadium. Harlequins 21 Bristol Rugby 19. Harlequins 4 Premiership points: Bristol Rugby 1 (losing bonus point).
As regular readers will be aware, for the past eight years I have refused – both as a matter of principle and out of a basic desire to maintain ‘the best practical use of my time’, to attend matches at Twickenham Stadium. As a result I have to report that I did not see this match in the flesh.
Instead I journeyed on Friday into the wilds of the countryside for the weekend and began yesterday by visiting the local municipal rubbish dump and doing a bit of shopping before settling on the terrace with family members in the warm sunshine about 11.00am. This state of affairs was something of an unexpected bonus as the BBC weather forecast on Friday evening had been for a dull beginning and then heavy rain all day from lunchtime.
We had literally just opened the bar by uncorking a chilled bottle of my favourite (Valdo Marca Oro) Prosecco when we were invaded by a local neighbour of some fifty years’ standing, a lady named Eileen approaching the age of eighty who arrived accompanied by her traditional stately, not to say haughty, manner and a crossbreed dog.
The latter – it turned out – was not her own pooch. Apparently she had left him, being elderly and ailing, with a local villager and in consideration (apparently a regular arrangement) had yesterday taken said villager’s dog for a walk.
Coming up behind, having alighted from a large estate car parked under the trees, was a posse of Eileen’s family descendants who had either been for a walk or, in one case (that of a 9 year old boy) just returned from his first-ever sail. Plainly they had needed to stop by and pay their respects. In return, a custom of these parts, they received an offer of a drink. Gin and tonics being the order of the day, I nipped inside to oblige and made four stiff ones spiced with lime slices and ice cubes.
Half an hour or so later a degree of party atmosphere had descended – the stories were getting more and more intimate and interesting and/or amusing and a roar of celebration had gone up when the first-time sailor had announced that he had enjoyed himself sufficiently that he definitely wished to go sailing again – and (despite half-hearted protestations and then orders of “Oh, all right then, if you insist I’ll have just a tonic water please …”) a second round – this time of six – stiff gin and tonics had been prepared.
The conversation continued to flow. I wasn’t sure that Eileen would remember the old days when she ran the Dog Show section of the local village fete and my daughter had the greatest day of her life aged about seven when she entered the ‘kids section’ with our family dog in tow on a lead and won a second place rosette, but suddenly out of the blue she (Eileen) brought said occasion up via a “Do you remember when …?” query that endeared her to me greatly.
By 12.30pm the gathering was still gaining momentum, not least when our hostess disappeared inside and prepared a batch of what I can only describe as ‘classy baby hamburgers and baby buns’ (as Eileen had requested “… just for the men” when this form of food had been mentioned and offered) – this in advance of their own lunch which was in fact already waiting for them back at their residence.
[Eileen is a throwback to old-fashioned – and in my view – better days, when the first duty of ladies was to keep their menfolk fed and watered, presumably on the basis that if the men were satisfied in this respect they wouldn’t get grumpy or difficult.]
It was shortly after the burgers had been served that our hostess remembered that, with the most recently-served gin and tonics having been consumed, there was a chilled bottle of fine Veuve Cliquot champagne sitting in the bottom of the fridge and desperate to be drunk.
Minutes later a round tray of fluted glasses appeared full of said champagne and the assembled got stuck in, on the apparent basis that this now had definitely to be our ‘one for the road’.
Suffice it to say that – when eventually those of us (me wearing my brand new Harlequins replica shirt for the 150th season celebrations) retired to the TV room to watch the Quins’ first Aviva Premiership match of the 2016/2017 season being broadcast live from Twickenham Stadium on BT Sport, kick-off 4.30pm – there was a good deal of banter and, in some cases, not long afterwards, the sound of heavy snoring to be heard.
From what I saw of the game, it was an uninspiring and error-ridden affair played in a torrential downpour in front of a disappointing crowd (Twickenham looked less than half-full). Bristol gave a good account of themselves and, with a slice or two of luck, might even have prevailed. As for Quins, well I saw nothing whatsoever to alter my view after the two pre-season games, i.e. that we are going to be in for a long, hard and ‘difficult’ season.
There is no snap, no creativity, no penetration in midfield – the whole ‘feel’ of the team is ‘down’ and listless, as if everyone is just going through the motions. On this evidence I’d revive my prediction for the season – I now think it is perfectly possible that we shall be end up being dragged into the relegation dogfight.
