Rugby & Royalty
You have read about my connection to Wales, via my father, and to his friend’s family there. Herewith, is another anecdote of my very enjoyable time there.
My father’s friend, Ken, also had a daughter named Jane. She married Roger and they both ran a couple of shoe stores. Roger was a very active player in his local rugby club. Plus, he was a black belt judo. At the time of my visit he was nursing a leg injury so he couldn’t play with his rugby club.
Jane took me aside to tell me that she and Roger had “special” guests that evening for dinner – he was a lord, and all. She told me that the last time the lord and lady were for dinner, Roger came home drunk and did a face plant into the soup bowl on the first course. “Willie, I do not want a repeat of that again!” Yes, Jane, you hath made yourself perfectly clear.
Roger had me right at the sidelines of the game. I had spit and blood tossed at me from the players - and this was only a friendly amateur game! He explained to me the idiosyncracies of the plays and the referee’s calls.
After his team won, we got “dragged” back to the club’s pub. To be hospitable, I let them buy this ardent fan a beer. Well, before I could get one finished a lad would hand me another. As I knew Roger and I had a countdown, I approached the team captain with, “I have always been in awe of you Welsh men singing. Any chance of getting the boys to sing a tune?” My mistake. That was all the encouragement they needed.
A multitude of songs later, that sent shivers up my spine as to their natural harmonics, and a plethora of pitchers later I looked at the clock. Oh no! We’re in for it! “Roger, we have to go! Now!” There was still more quaffing before I got him out the door and “Are you okay to drive, Rog?” I’m sure you can expect the answer.
We got home to be greeted by the evil Jane eye. Not only were late but we were holding up dinner for His Lord and Lady. Roger smoothed over everyone and entertained them with witticisms. Until Jane served the first course. Soup. Two seconds later I heard a splash. Yup, face plant into the bowl. Two points, Rog.
I started to giggle until Jane flashed me her scowl. Oh, boy, I’m in deep doodoo now. So, I took over on the witty conversation for the remainder of the evening and managed to gain a modicum of respect from Jane. After she and I had hauled Roger’s comatose body off to bed.
My father’s friend, Ken, also had a daughter named Jane. She married Roger and they both ran a couple of shoe stores. Roger was a very active player in his local rugby club. Plus, he was a black belt judo. At the time of my visit he was nursing a leg injury so he couldn’t play with his rugby club.
Jane took me aside to tell me that she and Roger had “special” guests that evening for dinner – he was a lord, and all. She told me that the last time the lord and lady were for dinner, Roger came home drunk and did a face plant into the soup bowl on the first course. “Willie, I do not want a repeat of that again!” Yes, Jane, you hath made yourself perfectly clear.
Roger had me right at the sidelines of the game. I had spit and blood tossed at me from the players - and this was only a friendly amateur game! He explained to me the idiosyncracies of the plays and the referee’s calls.
After his team won, we got “dragged” back to the club’s pub. To be hospitable, I let them buy this ardent fan a beer. Well, before I could get one finished a lad would hand me another. As I knew Roger and I had a countdown, I approached the team captain with, “I have always been in awe of you Welsh men singing. Any chance of getting the boys to sing a tune?” My mistake. That was all the encouragement they needed.
A multitude of songs later, that sent shivers up my spine as to their natural harmonics, and a plethora of pitchers later I looked at the clock. Oh no! We’re in for it! “Roger, we have to go! Now!” There was still more quaffing before I got him out the door and “Are you okay to drive, Rog?” I’m sure you can expect the answer.
We got home to be greeted by the evil Jane eye. Not only were late but we were holding up dinner for His Lord and Lady. Roger smoothed over everyone and entertained them with witticisms. Until Jane served the first course. Soup. Two seconds later I heard a splash. Yup, face plant into the bowl. Two points, Rog.
I started to giggle until Jane flashed me her scowl. Oh, boy, I’m in deep doodoo now. So, I took over on the witty conversation for the remainder of the evening and managed to gain a modicum of respect from Jane. After she and I had hauled Roger’s comatose body off to bed.
posted by Musings from Idle Acres | 1:40 p.m.
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