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To France
Flew from Gatwick to Nice on Saturday the 8th for the Women’s World Cup. After the bus ride from Nice airport to the town centre I had a 15 minute walk to my hotel in boiling heat. The hotel was an Ibis, nice place. On the chalkboard in reception someone had written ‘HAWAY THE LIONESSES C’MON!’ I was to spot several England fans at breakfast during my stay.
That evening I met Ley, Oonagh, Rachel and Matt at the Waka Bar on the seafront, where the Football Supporters’ Association had set up an England fans’ embassy (although the embassy people had left for the night by the time we arrived). We persuaded the bar staff (Irish and Australians so we had no language problems) to switch the tellies from an Estonia v Northern Ireland men’s international to the Spain v South Africa Women’s World Cup match and had a few drinks, then went in search of something to eat. Eventually we found a pub offering Margherita pizzas and watched Norway v Nigeria in there. Ley, who could see outside from her seat, told us Jill Scott and Karen Carney were passing outside. I rushed out. The poor lasses were getting mobbed by England fans for selfies; you could tell they wanted to be away back to the team hotel, but they graciously posed for everyone, me included.
Sunday – game day – in the fan park I had the joy of meeting Jill and Steph, two fellow ex-Lady Pies fans whom, with the demise of NCLFC, I hadn’t seen since the Euros in the Netherlands. We joined the long queue for the drinks stall, lamented that the French hadn’t taken a lesson from the Dutch in how to set up a fan park – there was no TV screen so people were unable to see the games – and talked until Rachel and Matt arrived. Rachel had been on a boat trip that morning and managed to lose her phone overboard – with all her travel tickets in it. Matt looked after her from then on, and had taken her to the Waka bar where the fan embassy people had done a lot to help her. Soon after, Jules and Alice arrived and we all sat together in the bandstand with our drinks until it was time to board the shuttle buses to the stadium.
Once in the stadium we headed for one of the refreshment stalls. Jules and Rachel weren’t amused that only non-alcoholic beer was on sale. We were queuing close to the corner where the TV pundits were overlooking the pitch; I got a decent photo of Alex Scott and Hope Solo. England beat Scotland 2-1. Walking back towards the shuttle buses we met a lady and her little daughter who had ‘White 18’ on her shirt. Her mum told us that, after she’d tweeted how boys had told her daughter girls couldn’t play football, Ellen White had got in touch and sent her a message of support and a signed shirt. After I told her mum that I know Jodie, Jules said to the girl in a stage whisper “I think Ellen White’s better. But don’t tell [turk152] because Jodie Taylor’s his friend.”
Monday I flew back to Gatwick (had to book my trips piecemeal because of the aggravation I had at work trying to book the time as holiday). Only just made my flight; with the time ticking by and me still in the crawling Easyjet bag drop queue, I flagged down a helpful customer service lady who took me over to the bag drop desk. Legged it over to departures, through security and to the gate just in time for boarding.
On the plane, we were held on the runway for two hours, as inclement weather at Gatwick meant we were unable to take off as scheduled and we then had to wait for a free spot. Then when we finally did land at Gatwick, the pull handle on my suitcase would no longer extend. I didn’t know that you’re supposed to report luggage damage on the spot, so just carted the damn thing by hand (with great difficulty) all the way to the train station and through the train ride to Portsmouth. I went on Easyjet’s website and dropped an email to their Damaged Luggage people.
Thanks to the delayed flight I missed seeing my Laura present Argentina v Japan ;( Back at my parents’ an examination showed my suitcase to be a complete wreck, with one of the pull handle’s rods bent and almost broken, and multiple holes pierced in the fabric.
Tuesday night took the overnight cross-channel ferry from Portsmouth to Le Havre. Slept through most of the crossing. Sat in Le Havre central station reading and listening to music for the four hours until check-in opened at my hotel which was over the road. A quiet day; nipped to the nearby Carrefour supermarket for French chocolate for my work colleagues. Watched France v Norway on the telly in my room.
Thursday lunchtime I headed for the Au Bureau pub in the town to watch Nigeria v South Korea and met the lovely ladies who are running the England fan embassy. We had a long chat about my long-time support of the England team and their time doing fan embassies for the England men. Jill, Steph and Rachel arrived in time for us to get a bite to eat and watch Australia v Brazil and South Africa v China. Jill, Steph and I stayed on after the games for the pub’s karaoke night. I sang Dans Mon H.L.M. by Renaud, a French pop song full of memories for me, as back at FE college the French lady student who took us for conversational sessions played it to us and we discussed the lyrics. My rendition impressed several of the locals as well as Jill and Steph. Jules and Alice, who were staying in the same hotel as me, arrived around midnight.
Friday was game day. Early afternoon drinks at Au Bureau. The lovely Faye Carruthers from Talksport popped in to talk to England fans. I think I may have a new crush. Jules had a couple of spare tickets sitting with us and invited Crystal and Lucy, two girls we’d met before who we got chatting to in the pub. To my delight, Jodie Taylor and Carly Telford both played, and though Argentina gave us a few scares the Lionesses triumphed 1-0 - with a goal from Jodie, who celebrated infectiously, blowing kisses to the BBC crew.
Saturday morning I got the ferry back to Portsmouth. Rest of the weekend relaxing at the parents’ then on Monday morning, after presenting my mother with her birthday card and present, I hauled my things back to Bedfordshire. Nigeria v France Monday night was TV heaven – Laura on the panel and Sarah Bouhaddi on the pitch.
Flew Stansted to Nice on Tuesday. All-night sesh in the Waka Bar then the neighbouring Les 3 Diables pub with Jill, Steph, Jules, Alice, Rachel, Crystal and Lucy. It was the first proper chat I’d had with the last two. Lucy started the awkward conversation by asking me “Which women’s club team do you support?”
“Well, I was a Notts County Ladies fan. So no-one now.”
“Who are you going to support now?”
“No-one. Just England.”
Thankfully, she seemed understanding about that, we got another round of drinks in and we turned our attention back to Italy v Brazil on the telly.
Wednesday a good pre-match session in the Waka bar with the fan embassy girls, all the crew – and Jane from Lewes who flew in that morning. The lovely Faye dropped in again. Matt got something to eat upstairs – right by where the England band were playing on the balcony, doing Matt’s head in. Jules again had a spare seat so Jane was able to sit with us.
We all knew Japan would be the toughest opposition in the group. In the end, though, England coasted to a 2-0 win. As the England subs, warming up in front of us, passed close to our great seats in the top tier, Matt led chants for each of them to ‘give us a wave’. Ten of them obliged; only Jade Moore and Beth Mead were spoilsports.
The others went back to the Waka after for a session after the match, but with it close to midnight, with a heavy heart I went back to my hotel and to bed, as my flight left at 10.50 next morning.
No incidents on the flight back to Luton or the homeward journey from there, save not having time between connecting buses to get a bite to eat. Home about 3pm, bus into town to get a few groceries in to see me through the weekend, back home, rang for pizza and settled down for Netherlands v Canada.
And Friday I went back to work. Stayed on till 7pm but only accomplished a fraction of what I hoped – they’d left me a shedload to do and the computer network went down just after 6.
I’d been planning on going to the first home game of the revived Lincoln City Women’s team on 14th July. Lincoln was where the Lady Pies originated, so going there would have offered a measure of closure. In France, Jill, Steph and I had even talked about meeting at that game. On Friday I checked trains and coaches, and getting from Leighton Buzzard to Lincoln on a Sunday on public transport just can’t be done. I would have travelled up on the Saturday, but I have to be in Gosport on that day as my mother and I are hosting the blasted annual reunion party for the Mayors and Chairmen from that year. Absolutely gutted.
Since Friday I’ve been feeling depressed. Part of it’s my French adventure being over and me being back at work while England are still in the World Cup and some of my friends are still there; part of it Laura retiring from playing, my anger at the wicked man who destroyed our lovely team robbing me of two years of seeing her, and the fact I’m never likely to meet her again; part of it not being able to get to Lincoln.
Going down the pub for England v Cameroon. Don’t let me down, Lionesses.
That evening I met Ley, Oonagh, Rachel and Matt at the Waka Bar on the seafront, where the Football Supporters’ Association had set up an England fans’ embassy (although the embassy people had left for the night by the time we arrived). We persuaded the bar staff (Irish and Australians so we had no language problems) to switch the tellies from an Estonia v Northern Ireland men’s international to the Spain v South Africa Women’s World Cup match and had a few drinks, then went in search of something to eat. Eventually we found a pub offering Margherita pizzas and watched Norway v Nigeria in there. Ley, who could see outside from her seat, told us Jill Scott and Karen Carney were passing outside. I rushed out. The poor lasses were getting mobbed by England fans for selfies; you could tell they wanted to be away back to the team hotel, but they graciously posed for everyone, me included.
Sunday – game day – in the fan park I had the joy of meeting Jill and Steph, two fellow ex-Lady Pies fans whom, with the demise of NCLFC, I hadn’t seen since the Euros in the Netherlands. We joined the long queue for the drinks stall, lamented that the French hadn’t taken a lesson from the Dutch in how to set up a fan park – there was no TV screen so people were unable to see the games – and talked until Rachel and Matt arrived. Rachel had been on a boat trip that morning and managed to lose her phone overboard – with all her travel tickets in it. Matt looked after her from then on, and had taken her to the Waka bar where the fan embassy people had done a lot to help her. Soon after, Jules and Alice arrived and we all sat together in the bandstand with our drinks until it was time to board the shuttle buses to the stadium.
Once in the stadium we headed for one of the refreshment stalls. Jules and Rachel weren’t amused that only non-alcoholic beer was on sale. We were queuing close to the corner where the TV pundits were overlooking the pitch; I got a decent photo of Alex Scott and Hope Solo. England beat Scotland 2-1. Walking back towards the shuttle buses we met a lady and her little daughter who had ‘White 18’ on her shirt. Her mum told us that, after she’d tweeted how boys had told her daughter girls couldn’t play football, Ellen White had got in touch and sent her a message of support and a signed shirt. After I told her mum that I know Jodie, Jules said to the girl in a stage whisper “I think Ellen White’s better. But don’t tell [turk152] because Jodie Taylor’s his friend.”
Monday I flew back to Gatwick (had to book my trips piecemeal because of the aggravation I had at work trying to book the time as holiday). Only just made my flight; with the time ticking by and me still in the crawling Easyjet bag drop queue, I flagged down a helpful customer service lady who took me over to the bag drop desk. Legged it over to departures, through security and to the gate just in time for boarding.
On the plane, we were held on the runway for two hours, as inclement weather at Gatwick meant we were unable to take off as scheduled and we then had to wait for a free spot. Then when we finally did land at Gatwick, the pull handle on my suitcase would no longer extend. I didn’t know that you’re supposed to report luggage damage on the spot, so just carted the damn thing by hand (with great difficulty) all the way to the train station and through the train ride to Portsmouth. I went on Easyjet’s website and dropped an email to their Damaged Luggage people.
Thanks to the delayed flight I missed seeing my Laura present Argentina v Japan ;( Back at my parents’ an examination showed my suitcase to be a complete wreck, with one of the pull handle’s rods bent and almost broken, and multiple holes pierced in the fabric.
Tuesday night took the overnight cross-channel ferry from Portsmouth to Le Havre. Slept through most of the crossing. Sat in Le Havre central station reading and listening to music for the four hours until check-in opened at my hotel which was over the road. A quiet day; nipped to the nearby Carrefour supermarket for French chocolate for my work colleagues. Watched France v Norway on the telly in my room.
Thursday lunchtime I headed for the Au Bureau pub in the town to watch Nigeria v South Korea and met the lovely ladies who are running the England fan embassy. We had a long chat about my long-time support of the England team and their time doing fan embassies for the England men. Jill, Steph and Rachel arrived in time for us to get a bite to eat and watch Australia v Brazil and South Africa v China. Jill, Steph and I stayed on after the games for the pub’s karaoke night. I sang Dans Mon H.L.M. by Renaud, a French pop song full of memories for me, as back at FE college the French lady student who took us for conversational sessions played it to us and we discussed the lyrics. My rendition impressed several of the locals as well as Jill and Steph. Jules and Alice, who were staying in the same hotel as me, arrived around midnight.
Friday was game day. Early afternoon drinks at Au Bureau. The lovely Faye Carruthers from Talksport popped in to talk to England fans. I think I may have a new crush. Jules had a couple of spare tickets sitting with us and invited Crystal and Lucy, two girls we’d met before who we got chatting to in the pub. To my delight, Jodie Taylor and Carly Telford both played, and though Argentina gave us a few scares the Lionesses triumphed 1-0 - with a goal from Jodie, who celebrated infectiously, blowing kisses to the BBC crew.
Saturday morning I got the ferry back to Portsmouth. Rest of the weekend relaxing at the parents’ then on Monday morning, after presenting my mother with her birthday card and present, I hauled my things back to Bedfordshire. Nigeria v France Monday night was TV heaven – Laura on the panel and Sarah Bouhaddi on the pitch.
Flew Stansted to Nice on Tuesday. All-night sesh in the Waka Bar then the neighbouring Les 3 Diables pub with Jill, Steph, Jules, Alice, Rachel, Crystal and Lucy. It was the first proper chat I’d had with the last two. Lucy started the awkward conversation by asking me “Which women’s club team do you support?”
“Well, I was a Notts County Ladies fan. So no-one now.”
“Who are you going to support now?”
“No-one. Just England.”
Thankfully, she seemed understanding about that, we got another round of drinks in and we turned our attention back to Italy v Brazil on the telly.
Wednesday a good pre-match session in the Waka bar with the fan embassy girls, all the crew – and Jane from Lewes who flew in that morning. The lovely Faye dropped in again. Matt got something to eat upstairs – right by where the England band were playing on the balcony, doing Matt’s head in. Jules again had a spare seat so Jane was able to sit with us.
We all knew Japan would be the toughest opposition in the group. In the end, though, England coasted to a 2-0 win. As the England subs, warming up in front of us, passed close to our great seats in the top tier, Matt led chants for each of them to ‘give us a wave’. Ten of them obliged; only Jade Moore and Beth Mead were spoilsports.
The others went back to the Waka after for a session after the match, but with it close to midnight, with a heavy heart I went back to my hotel and to bed, as my flight left at 10.50 next morning.
No incidents on the flight back to Luton or the homeward journey from there, save not having time between connecting buses to get a bite to eat. Home about 3pm, bus into town to get a few groceries in to see me through the weekend, back home, rang for pizza and settled down for Netherlands v Canada.
And Friday I went back to work. Stayed on till 7pm but only accomplished a fraction of what I hoped – they’d left me a shedload to do and the computer network went down just after 6.
I’d been planning on going to the first home game of the revived Lincoln City Women’s team on 14th July. Lincoln was where the Lady Pies originated, so going there would have offered a measure of closure. In France, Jill, Steph and I had even talked about meeting at that game. On Friday I checked trains and coaches, and getting from Leighton Buzzard to Lincoln on a Sunday on public transport just can’t be done. I would have travelled up on the Saturday, but I have to be in Gosport on that day as my mother and I are hosting the blasted annual reunion party for the Mayors and Chairmen from that year. Absolutely gutted.
Since Friday I’ve been feeling depressed. Part of it’s my French adventure being over and me being back at work while England are still in the World Cup and some of my friends are still there; part of it Laura retiring from playing, my anger at the wicked man who destroyed our lovely team robbing me of two years of seeing her, and the fact I’m never likely to meet her again; part of it not being able to get to Lincoln.
Going down the pub for England v Cameroon. Don’t let me down, Lionesses.
no subject
It may become all too difficult for those of us who are not stinking rich to do so on the future once the Tories have finally wrecked the country.