Trains And Boats And Planes
Bristol last Friday for the home leg of England’s Women’s Nations League double bill with Belgium. Alas, there was no official Free Lionesses meet-up for this one, and by the time I reached my hotel no-one on the Messenger chat group had responded to my enquiry about pre-match drinks. Meanwhile, Jules and Crystal, who were doing their own thing away from the group, replied to my message with which pub they were in, but when I said it would take me till around 4ish to reach it, Crystal said they were moving on and they’d see me at the game. So I sat in the hotel room for an hour or so watching quiz shows on the telly, slipping towards the long dark night of the soul, until Rachel finally commented on my Facebook post that she was in a city centre Spoons.
Got a bus to the pub where Rachel and Leanne were around a table with some of the new girls we’ve met at recent games. Having not had lunch because of the train times I was Hank Marvin so headed straight onto the Wetherspoons app to order grub. We talked about the game over a few drinks. The pub overlooked the Avon; we saw a large group in yellow shirts cross the bridge and soon worked out they were Belgian fans. Rachel began hurling abuse at them, thankfully the window wasn’t open.
We set off on a fan walk to the stadium. Nic, who had the route on Google Maps, said we had a long walk along Coronation Road - “not Coronation Street”. We stopped off at a pub close to the ground where there was karaoke on; a couple of the new girls stepped up and sang. On our arrival, the DJ played Three Lions, World in Motion and Sweet Caroline.
No word from Jules and Crystal with kick-off approaching, so I filed into the ground and messaged saying ‘hope to see you after the game’. The Lionesses gave a footballing masterclass, winning 5-0. Fair play to the small section of Belgian fans a few blocks down from us who kept singing throughout.
On my way out of the ground bought a Halloumi wrap from the Greek street food van. Jules messaged to say they were going to the Spoons. When I reached the pub there was a disco on with loud music pulsating through the whole joint. No sign of Jules and Crystal. I paced the smoking area in front of the pub for half an hour then they showed up. We greeted each other with hugs, got drinks at the bar, climbed the two flights of stairs to the top floor and found a table away from the speakers.
We updated each other on our news from the last few months. Jules and Crystal said how Kath was going on a local parkrun the following morning (hence her getting an early night instead of joining us at the pub - “she sends her love”) and, as it was her ‘Cowell’ (100th different parkrun venue), they were going to surprise her by turning up to support her, then present her with a specially decorated cake after the run. And, of course, Crystal waxed lyrical about her Mary Earps fandom, and I finally learned the full story about the guy who mistook her for Mary in the pub in Norwich last summer.
Flew to Belgium on Monday for the second England Women encounter. At Brussels Airport-Zaventem train station, knowing Brussels is predominantly French-speaking I asked the ticket desk lady for “un aller simple à Louvain”. She was about to sell me a ticket to the Walloon town of Louvain-la-Neuve. I had to say “Vous avez dit Louvain-la-Neuve? Non, c’est Louvain. En néerlandais, Leuven.”
Her eyes lit up. “Leuven!” She sold me the right ticket.
At first I was a little puzzled, since French-speaking Belgians are usually reluctant to call towns by their Dutch names. On the platform it dawned on me. Zaventem, where Brussels Airport is located, is in Flanders. The ticket desk lady was probably a Fleming. Flemings are none too keen on being addressed in French, and although the ticket desk lady was fluent in French - she needed to be, working at the airport station - calling Flemish towns by their French names when talking to Flemings is a no-no. Oops.
Arrived at the Ibis and spotted to my delight that the table football table was still in the lobby. Messaged the group to ask if anyone would be out on the Oude Markt that night. Rachel responded. I moseyed down there at about 8 pm and met Leanne and a couple of her pals walking along. Alas, to my suggestion of us getting a few beers, they said they were going back to their hotel to get an early night. I learned the following day that they’d come by coach from Leeds to Brussels so were pretty shattered.
I popped into the Bar Louvain for a Trappistes Rochefort 8. Rachel messaged to say her train at Brussels Airport had been cancelled so she had a 25 minute wait. I wandered down to one of the friteries at the top end of the street for a portion of Belgian loaded fries. Rachel arrived and asked where she could get a Hoegaarden Rosee. Her favourite Belgian beer, she hadn’t had one since our last visit to Leuven 18 months ago. We found a little bar with it on the menu. When she got her Hoegaarden Rosee, she filmed it for Instagram saying how long she’d been waiting for one. We sat out at the front drinking, chatting and reminiscing about past trips until past midnight.
There was a fan meet-up at Bar Nine on Tuesday afternoon. Rachel and Leanne were both there, as were Gary the Orient fan and Maisie and her entourage. Basil was walking around taking down England fans’ contact details and teams supported. He called me a “mixed up character” on my describing myself as a supporter of AFC Portchester men and an ex-Notts County Ladies fan, though he acknowledged “it wasn’t your fault they folded”. I met Nina, a personal tutor who was originally from Portsmouth and now lived in Windsor, and Colby, an American fella who had fallen in love with the England women’s team during the last World Cup and had flown across the pond to see them for the first time.
You couldn’t go up to the bar to buy drinks at Bar Nine; you had to wait for a waiter or waitress to come to your table and order. They were mostly a restaurant, but Rachel got so fed up with the length of time waiting that she went to the nearby McDonald’s. One waiter, though, was a friendly chap who was a keen supporter of the local men’s team OH Leuven and very enthusiastic about his national women’s team.
We were joined by Nick and Steve, two guys from the FA who mingled, asking several of us about our support of the Lionesses. Nick was impressed with my recently attaining my century.
Leanne, Maisie and Co started the fan walk to the stadium quite early. Again we split into two groups, following different routes depending on which online map someone was looking at. We re-merged at a crossroads close to the stadium. Because we’d set off early, the gates were still shut when we arrived. Rachel and Nicola were desperate for the loo so kept calling out to the steward to open up. In the meantime we had the thrill of seeing the Lionesses bus arrive. Maisie and a couple of others went down to the front to wave to the players.
In the end we got let in. We were all frisked by stewards but nobody said anything about power banks, and the steward didn’t touch the pocket of my coat with mine in anyway. The girls found to their consternation that the Ladies’ toilet Portakabin had just three cubicles. Some women ended up using the Gents. We hung around on the old terraces that now form a smokers’ area, and on the remains of the athletics track that circled the pitch before the current stand was built, till kick-off drew nearer and we went to our seats.
Unlike the previous Friday, Belgium had their star striker Tessa Wullaert, back from injury. We sat shell-shocked as Belgium went through England like a warm knife through butter and went three up within half an hour. Tessa Wullaert knocked in two crosses either side of a looping header from Justine Vanhaevermaet. Just before the break a Beth Mead penalty gave us a sliver of hope.
Niamh Charles and Millie Bright, who’d both been ineffective at the back, were substituted at half-time. Some needle crept into the play after the break. Lucy Bronze went down in the box but was booked for diving and backchat. Later Lucy was subjected to an unpunished bodycheck, but after that the ref dealt out cards impartially to both sides. Despite the edge, it was an entertaining game, especially after the moment that really set it alight. Michelle Agyemang came on as sub, and, 41 seconds later, scored a worldie with a volley through the Belgian defence, right in front of us. The closing stages were edge of your seat stuff but the Belgians held on.
As we waited for Leanne and a couple of the others to use the loo, Rachel held forth about the team’s shortcomings. She went on to denounce the shortage of toilet facilities, adding fancifully “We’d have won if we’d had more cubicles”. News of Arsenal men beating Real Madrid ameliorated her disappointment and that of the other Gooners present.
We ambled back to the Oude Markt. Rachel and I were up for karaoke at Baraoke, but one of the others said we’d be doing it in a separate room by ourselves so they weren’t that keen, and we went on to Ambiorix where Champions’ League highlights were showing on a big screen in the area out front. I got a Trappistes Rochefort 10 and we all chatted and talked future matches until one by one we said goodbyes and drifted back to our hotels.
Flying home on Wednesday, I kept earnestly hoping the flight from Brussels to Amsterdam wouldn’t be delayed as I had only a 50 minute layover. We were a bit late taking off but, mercifully, landed a few minutes early. I got off the plane quick and barrelled towards passport control. I approached the short connection lane, but the officer there pointed me towards the adjacent electronic passport gates where, happily, there were no queues. I went through the gate and an officer at a table stamped me out of the EU. I made it to the departure gate comfortably.
Switching my phone back on after landing at Southampton, I saw a message from KLM to say my checked-in bag had been left behind in Amsterdam. After passing passport control, where the officer asked where I’d been and said he’d seen the match on telly, in the baggage reclaim area I called baggage enquiries on the internal phone. A lady told me to meet her at the KLM check-in desk in departures. She was waiting there for me and went through a delayed baggage form with me, filling it in.
Thursday lunchtime at work the airport phoned to say my bag had arrived. A courier delivered it to my home in the afternoon.
Got a bus to the pub where Rachel and Leanne were around a table with some of the new girls we’ve met at recent games. Having not had lunch because of the train times I was Hank Marvin so headed straight onto the Wetherspoons app to order grub. We talked about the game over a few drinks. The pub overlooked the Avon; we saw a large group in yellow shirts cross the bridge and soon worked out they were Belgian fans. Rachel began hurling abuse at them, thankfully the window wasn’t open.
We set off on a fan walk to the stadium. Nic, who had the route on Google Maps, said we had a long walk along Coronation Road - “not Coronation Street”. We stopped off at a pub close to the ground where there was karaoke on; a couple of the new girls stepped up and sang. On our arrival, the DJ played Three Lions, World in Motion and Sweet Caroline.
No word from Jules and Crystal with kick-off approaching, so I filed into the ground and messaged saying ‘hope to see you after the game’. The Lionesses gave a footballing masterclass, winning 5-0. Fair play to the small section of Belgian fans a few blocks down from us who kept singing throughout.
On my way out of the ground bought a Halloumi wrap from the Greek street food van. Jules messaged to say they were going to the Spoons. When I reached the pub there was a disco on with loud music pulsating through the whole joint. No sign of Jules and Crystal. I paced the smoking area in front of the pub for half an hour then they showed up. We greeted each other with hugs, got drinks at the bar, climbed the two flights of stairs to the top floor and found a table away from the speakers.
We updated each other on our news from the last few months. Jules and Crystal said how Kath was going on a local parkrun the following morning (hence her getting an early night instead of joining us at the pub - “she sends her love”) and, as it was her ‘Cowell’ (100th different parkrun venue), they were going to surprise her by turning up to support her, then present her with a specially decorated cake after the run. And, of course, Crystal waxed lyrical about her Mary Earps fandom, and I finally learned the full story about the guy who mistook her for Mary in the pub in Norwich last summer.
Flew to Belgium on Monday for the second England Women encounter. At Brussels Airport-Zaventem train station, knowing Brussels is predominantly French-speaking I asked the ticket desk lady for “un aller simple à Louvain”. She was about to sell me a ticket to the Walloon town of Louvain-la-Neuve. I had to say “Vous avez dit Louvain-la-Neuve? Non, c’est Louvain. En néerlandais, Leuven.”
Her eyes lit up. “Leuven!” She sold me the right ticket.
At first I was a little puzzled, since French-speaking Belgians are usually reluctant to call towns by their Dutch names. On the platform it dawned on me. Zaventem, where Brussels Airport is located, is in Flanders. The ticket desk lady was probably a Fleming. Flemings are none too keen on being addressed in French, and although the ticket desk lady was fluent in French - she needed to be, working at the airport station - calling Flemish towns by their French names when talking to Flemings is a no-no. Oops.
Arrived at the Ibis and spotted to my delight that the table football table was still in the lobby. Messaged the group to ask if anyone would be out on the Oude Markt that night. Rachel responded. I moseyed down there at about 8 pm and met Leanne and a couple of her pals walking along. Alas, to my suggestion of us getting a few beers, they said they were going back to their hotel to get an early night. I learned the following day that they’d come by coach from Leeds to Brussels so were pretty shattered.
I popped into the Bar Louvain for a Trappistes Rochefort 8. Rachel messaged to say her train at Brussels Airport had been cancelled so she had a 25 minute wait. I wandered down to one of the friteries at the top end of the street for a portion of Belgian loaded fries. Rachel arrived and asked where she could get a Hoegaarden Rosee. Her favourite Belgian beer, she hadn’t had one since our last visit to Leuven 18 months ago. We found a little bar with it on the menu. When she got her Hoegaarden Rosee, she filmed it for Instagram saying how long she’d been waiting for one. We sat out at the front drinking, chatting and reminiscing about past trips until past midnight.
There was a fan meet-up at Bar Nine on Tuesday afternoon. Rachel and Leanne were both there, as were Gary the Orient fan and Maisie and her entourage. Basil was walking around taking down England fans’ contact details and teams supported. He called me a “mixed up character” on my describing myself as a supporter of AFC Portchester men and an ex-Notts County Ladies fan, though he acknowledged “it wasn’t your fault they folded”. I met Nina, a personal tutor who was originally from Portsmouth and now lived in Windsor, and Colby, an American fella who had fallen in love with the England women’s team during the last World Cup and had flown across the pond to see them for the first time.
You couldn’t go up to the bar to buy drinks at Bar Nine; you had to wait for a waiter or waitress to come to your table and order. They were mostly a restaurant, but Rachel got so fed up with the length of time waiting that she went to the nearby McDonald’s. One waiter, though, was a friendly chap who was a keen supporter of the local men’s team OH Leuven and very enthusiastic about his national women’s team.
We were joined by Nick and Steve, two guys from the FA who mingled, asking several of us about our support of the Lionesses. Nick was impressed with my recently attaining my century.
Leanne, Maisie and Co started the fan walk to the stadium quite early. Again we split into two groups, following different routes depending on which online map someone was looking at. We re-merged at a crossroads close to the stadium. Because we’d set off early, the gates were still shut when we arrived. Rachel and Nicola were desperate for the loo so kept calling out to the steward to open up. In the meantime we had the thrill of seeing the Lionesses bus arrive. Maisie and a couple of others went down to the front to wave to the players.
In the end we got let in. We were all frisked by stewards but nobody said anything about power banks, and the steward didn’t touch the pocket of my coat with mine in anyway. The girls found to their consternation that the Ladies’ toilet Portakabin had just three cubicles. Some women ended up using the Gents. We hung around on the old terraces that now form a smokers’ area, and on the remains of the athletics track that circled the pitch before the current stand was built, till kick-off drew nearer and we went to our seats.
Unlike the previous Friday, Belgium had their star striker Tessa Wullaert, back from injury. We sat shell-shocked as Belgium went through England like a warm knife through butter and went three up within half an hour. Tessa Wullaert knocked in two crosses either side of a looping header from Justine Vanhaevermaet. Just before the break a Beth Mead penalty gave us a sliver of hope.
Niamh Charles and Millie Bright, who’d both been ineffective at the back, were substituted at half-time. Some needle crept into the play after the break. Lucy Bronze went down in the box but was booked for diving and backchat. Later Lucy was subjected to an unpunished bodycheck, but after that the ref dealt out cards impartially to both sides. Despite the edge, it was an entertaining game, especially after the moment that really set it alight. Michelle Agyemang came on as sub, and, 41 seconds later, scored a worldie with a volley through the Belgian defence, right in front of us. The closing stages were edge of your seat stuff but the Belgians held on.
As we waited for Leanne and a couple of the others to use the loo, Rachel held forth about the team’s shortcomings. She went on to denounce the shortage of toilet facilities, adding fancifully “We’d have won if we’d had more cubicles”. News of Arsenal men beating Real Madrid ameliorated her disappointment and that of the other Gooners present.
We ambled back to the Oude Markt. Rachel and I were up for karaoke at Baraoke, but one of the others said we’d be doing it in a separate room by ourselves so they weren’t that keen, and we went on to Ambiorix where Champions’ League highlights were showing on a big screen in the area out front. I got a Trappistes Rochefort 10 and we all chatted and talked future matches until one by one we said goodbyes and drifted back to our hotels.
Flying home on Wednesday, I kept earnestly hoping the flight from Brussels to Amsterdam wouldn’t be delayed as I had only a 50 minute layover. We were a bit late taking off but, mercifully, landed a few minutes early. I got off the plane quick and barrelled towards passport control. I approached the short connection lane, but the officer there pointed me towards the adjacent electronic passport gates where, happily, there were no queues. I went through the gate and an officer at a table stamped me out of the EU. I made it to the departure gate comfortably.
Switching my phone back on after landing at Southampton, I saw a message from KLM to say my checked-in bag had been left behind in Amsterdam. After passing passport control, where the officer asked where I’d been and said he’d seen the match on telly, in the baggage reclaim area I called baggage enquiries on the internal phone. A lady told me to meet her at the KLM check-in desk in departures. She was waiting there for me and went through a delayed baggage form with me, filling it in.
Thursday lunchtime at work the airport phoned to say my bag had arrived. A courier delivered it to my home in the afternoon.