It is Sunday evening and I am finally at home. The past 36 hours have been spent as "responsible adult" accompanying TP on his mini Rugby Tour. To be honest it was OK but, if I am even more honest, after a week away in Wales the last thing I wanted to do was to schlep down South in advance of what is going to be a hectic and critical week at work.
So let's start with Saturday; we drove down to Twickenham where we took a tour of the home of the English Rugby Team. This was vaguely interesting but was it worth driving the best part of 100 miles for? ...
... No, not really. I like watching the game but I am not so obsessed that I want to examine the venue. If we think about this in greater depth would athletics fans want to examine a 400m running track and do Formula 1 fans want to look at the pit lane and vacant garages? I am guessing that the hard core fans might but I most definitely do not fall in to that category.
After the tour we walked across to the Harlequins Ground to watch the evening match against the Worcester Warriors. This was a pleasant one mile walk during which the heavens opened and ensured that we were all thoroughly soaked. I then sat in a wet seat and watched a match where both teams were playing in mud-brown after a quarter of an hour. This meant that I was a) freezing cold and b) had problems identifying who had the ball. It was actually quite a good match but the near freezing temperature made a decent job of removing any enjoyment.
The match finished around half past seven and the car was a welcome shelter from the cold and wet as we then drove up to Didcot for our overnight stop. This was a cheap hotel and an average meal. Nothing to complain about but nothing to praise either.
Sunday dawned and we took a short drive over to Wallingford for the lad's match. I think it fair to say that the opposition were very, very good and TP's team did well to score a couple of Trys in the face of such opposition.
After the match it should then have been a simple drive up the M40 to get home but we then seemed to enter a low budget Horror Movie from the 1970s. For some reason Wallingford did not want us to leave...
... let me explain. First we needed diesel so used the Sat Nav to locate a Petrol Station. The nearest one was temporarily closed to received a fuel delivery, the next one the Sat Nav suggested didn't actually exist and the third one was inaccessible due to a Police road closure. Remember this it is important later one. We finally found fuel a few miles away and finally hit the "take me home" button on the Sat Nav.
There I was thinking "that is it, the Rugby Tour is finally over, in an hour or so I'll be home". How wrong was I? At every turn the Sat Nav insisted on taking us back to the road that had been closed by the Police. We tried several evasive manoeuvres but every time it kept taking up back to this bloody road block. I think it fair to say that I was not a Happy Bunny. I was tired and just wanted to be home but Wallingford was not playing fair. It seemed that the only road to the Motorway was blocked and we would be doomed to spend eternity circling a very middle-class Oxfordshire town.
Eventually TP managed to make sense of the map and we headed North. I am sure that I saw sinister dark figures in pursuit as we sped away towards Oxford.