That's why they're Mushrooms! Thats why they're Mushrooms!

Went to my first Super League game last night. And I have to say the experience was highly varied. First of all when we got to the sell out ground at Wrexham (10,300 -ish)it was clear the stewards hadn't really thought things through. We had assigned seats but a lot of fans had unrestricted tickets and the stewards had told them they could sit anywhere. Without pointing out that they might be asked to move by people with assigned seating. Chaos inevitably ensued but it wasn't at the viciousness that one might expected.

Second the seats we took, were somehow in what I believe is termed 'The away end'. Rugby has no separation of rival fans and the selling of alcohol is encouraged. Now there are many reasons why I don't follow football but in amongst the main ones is the rivalry and intimidation that goes on. At every Rugby Union match I've been to theres been singing and chanting but I have never ever felt in the least intimidated and never, ever heard the opposition fans singing "Get into them - Fuck them up!"

The individual Leeds fans I spoke to were very friendly but there were clusters of them , clots one might say, that were at the very least thug-ish that I would cross entire counties to avoid. It was only at the end of the game as I was filling out, I craned to look at the area the Baboons had inhabited and I realised that sat three rows in front of them were three little girls in Welsh hats with their Ma and Pa. They must have heard all the swearing and abuse and blatant Xenophobia that those Idiots were saying and I think they've got a very different perspective on sport and probably men as well. As Hunter always used to say 'He who makes a beast of himself spares himself the pain of being a man.' or, translated from ponce 'If you go with the mob you don't have to think for yourself'.

They had their songs and chants one of which was "Who are ya? Who are ya? You've got no History, You've got no history!" I felt like shouting back "Of course we haven't you numptys, we've only been going a year!" However the fact I'm typing this from my front room and not a hospital bed shows that I was able to restrain myself.

Although by far my favourite chant was "That's why we're champions, That's why we're champions!" after every try. They were indeed champions last year but they were emphasising odd syllables so it came out

That's why we're Cham - p - O - nes which sounded for all the world like the french for Mushrooms! I imagine this was unintentional unless leeds have some kind of nickname I'm unaware of.

The game itself when it started was like a paired down game of Union and that's not an insult. Its a game that can be understood fairly quickly and enjoyed straight away. Union is a game that grows on you slowly and until you get the subtleties and complexities of the whole game then it is baffling and confusing.

I can understand why die-hard League fans can't understand why you'd want to play rugby like a foxtrot. "Slow slow quick quick slow" rather than an all out mad rush but for me (Ponce mode) its the difference between a glass of coke and a single malt. One is meant to be guzzled consumed straight away before the fizz goes. The other is meant to be savoured, allowed to mature.(/Ponce mode)

I think its this difference that means I will always be a union man, Although I may well go back for the occasional crusaders game. The game itself was enjoyable and there was always something happening, but I will very much be in the home end next time I go.

(The result? Well we lost by four tries in the end but for two thirds of the match we held the Mushrooms to a draw which is an achievement by anyone's standards!)

28012010001.jpg

After a cracking nights sleep, Belgian beer will do that to you, we headed out about nine for some much needed breakfast. We dropped into the first place we saw where the greek guy took one look at us and said

"Four full English?"

Now what I should have said is "Four hungry Welsh actually" but I'm not that quick.

A superb meal was forthcoming rich in the essential greases you require to replenish stocks after a night out.

We caught the tube, Caroline remebering not to put her travel pass next to a fridge magnet thus invalidating the magnetic strip this time, and headed for the Natural History museum.

We took the tour around the dinosaurs and saw a few other bits and pieces before hitting the shop.

From there its a short walk to the science museum which was much less crowded. They had some superb exhibits on but its hard to appricate the scale of both musuems. It would take weeks to glance at evrything they have on display let alone in Archive.

We wandered up the street then past Harrods and the estate agents advertising apartments for 25 million, and caught the tube to the area known as 'the city of London'.

Here was me thinking I was taking an entire holiday in the City of London. What a fool I am!

The streets were totally deserted. I can imagine with all the banks around that on a normal weekday evrything is heaving but we found essential nowhere open including the pub we'd wanted to go to for ages called 'The Old Doctor Butlers Head' which serves some great beer apparantly and its tested by people pouring some on a wooden bench and then sitting on it in leather trousers. (And people say the British aren't kinky enough!)

From there we came back to the hotel via the old mans pub on the corner which was nice. It felt like the kind of boozer you see in eastenders but don't think exsist in London anymore.

A guy walked in with a suitcase which he opned and starte selling meat to all the regulars. Now in Liverpoll we were forever chasing out Scallys selling clothes, dvds or whatever had just fallen out of the back of a van, but Meat?

I don't know about you but when we talk about sourcing our produce I don't want to have to say, "Some bloke in the Cumberland Arms'.

Em and I had a quick break for a cuppa back at the Hotel, cause we're old. The klift in the hotel had this great bored northern womans voice,

Floor 2. Brass bands and depression.

It was like having Holly from Red Dwarf in charge of the lift!

From there we tubed it to meetRob and Caroline at Piccadily Circus, a cheap Time Square. Anheaded to a pub called 'The Old Coffee Shop' where they serve the beers they brew on the premises.

I call them 'beers' but they were more just watered down toilet water. Not very good I'm afraid. So we moved on do De Hems which was a pub Al had recommended and was anopther Belgian pub. The beer was uniformly excellent and thank to a very friendly member of staff we got to try their cherry and strawberry draft beers! Yummy! Don' think I could have a whole pint of it though!

We headed to a chinese that Rob and Caroline had picked out through the sex shop streets of soho and had an excellent banquet to round off a great day in the city!
Bored northern lift.
The barman in de hems giving us cherry and strawberry beer.

Caroline moving the lazy susan as im poring the tea.

It was an early morning start for us today, well about 9.58 when we had to catch our (not so) early train down to London. The journey was swift and realtively uneventful thanks to all the work they've done on the west coast mainline service. two and a half hours to London from our little provincial backwater is superb by anyones reckoning.

We dropped the stuff off at l'hotel and headed to Westminster.

Westminster tube station is awe inspiring. they left evrything on show all the pipework and ducts all the massive slabs of concrete that are usually discretely hidden and left on full view almost showing off in its starkness. And I Love it! It reminded me of the pomidu center in Paris.

Anyway we met my friend Al there and headed to Parliment where he works as an Parlimentry outreach person. He used to be one of the team that transcribed the offical record of ever word that was said whilst Parilment was in session. If you've ever watched a debate in the house of commons you'll know what an ardous task that must have been.

So now he works with groups talking about parliment and how parilment works for them.

We went through a series of checkpoints and Em got frisked AGAIN. Every airport we've ever been to she get searched. She seems to be a frisking magnet we laugh and joke about it but occasionally I have to fight off the urge to shout 'Get your hands off my WIFE!'

From there we walked into St Stepehens Hall I think which is the only place in the Parilmentry grounds that you are allowed to take photographs. After that my camera stayed in my pocket and what a pity it was too. We walked through the opulent rooms surrounding the houses of lords all gift and ermine and plush red velvet and then through the houses of commons where I stood next to the dispatches box, right by Gordon Browns seat . It was an awesome tour and Al is very funny and well versed in the History of Parliment. It was quite an experience.

One thing that surprised me was the balance they have to strike. Theres a masive statue of Oliver Cromwell outside which is fair enough but inside its all Kings and Queens! I don't think Mr Cromwell would have been happy about that but being a Puritan I can't imagine there was much that would make him happy. And even if there was he'd probaby feel guilty about it.

After leaving Al we headed north to towards Covent Garden. We stopped briefly for a swift pint in the Duke of Wellington (Excellent Ale friendly locals) and spent some time looking at the shops in Covent Garden proper.

After that it was back to the hotel for a swift brushup and then back out for the night that nearly never was.

It must be everyones nightmare to reserve a table in your favourite resturant and for them to have no record of that reservation when you get there. Espically when you know you're from the sticks and want your city friends to get the impression that you're at least cultured in some ways!

In fairness to the staff at Belgos they found us a table fairly quickly and sat us with the minimum of fuss. I was expecting gestures and frumps and frowns but I forgot this is a Belgian resturant not French.

We met with Jane, Wez and Simon for beers and chats and had, what I belive Bertie Wooster would have described as a spiffing time.

The mussles were, as ever superb and the Beers with names such as Satan Gold, Judas etc were uniformly excellent. Except for a monstrousity of a beer called Something Something Duchess. It tasted how I imagine Fergie from Black Eyed Peas tastes. Sweaty, salty and which a air of Vinegar. Yeuch! Reading that back it is possible that the beer had gone off but I didn't want to appear stupid and ignorant AGAIN!

Having said our goodbyes with the prospect of seeing everyone in a fortnight for l'Rugby we walked back to the hotel in the rain.