onsdag 24 november 2010

Party princess of the year

The usual mayhem took place last weekend in a well known location far from watchful eyes and patrolling police cars... Experienced players even had nick names for the surroundings, make out forest for example (although I seriously doubt anything happened in that snowy slope. But I could be wrong).
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Dinner got off to a good start with a toast madame very much prepared, a speech from the club president that wasn't too long and a starter that didn't make the pregnant guest throw up. Team Front row took charge of the entertainment competition with a couple of performances and remained in the lead for quite some time, until the Halfbacks captain decided to give them a run for their money and got everyone involved in a highly dangerous let's have drunk people in heels dance around on the furniture-game.
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Awards were given out which made some people smile, some people grit their teeth with greed and some people cry with disappointment on the inside. The usual 45 minute speech with beer awards from the men's coach was avoided by bribing him with the trophy for Player of the year, a cunning plan! Most worth mentioning I think is the Party princess of the year award, which I now have at home in safe keeping until it's rightful owner lands on home soil next week (I miss you Blondie!).
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The home built bar got busy after that and the dancefloor was packed with people you only see dancing once a year. On the stage we had a troubadour working his arse off and I saw several people trying to get their secret missions done before they got too, let's say, liberal with booze money. Good work, especially to Berg who I witnessed squeal with awkwardness as she interrupted a tête-a-tête just to ask someone about their favourite toothpaste or similar. As the hours were lost, so was judgement - some people clearly more affected by this than others. Most famous afterwards is the guy who tried to pick up one of the lesbians! Amused as she was, that special mission impossible (oh to convert a lezzer! or maybe get invited back to her girlfriends place!) didn't go well and he had to settle for someone else later on...
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As usual, everyone in the party committee said I'll never organise this again! but we'll slowly forget it until next autumn. Bring on 2011!

tisdag 9 november 2010

Swing lo' sweet chariot

It was a cold thursday eve when a few swedes arrived in the big city of London for a weekend of romance, shopping, rugby, drinking and an awful lot of public transport. Friday arrived and romance was quickly brushed aside when the happy couple was rushed down Oxford street by a shopping-eager second row in her pursuit of a dress for the annual party. That done, we looked everywhere for a pair of shoes for our often injured center, but realised our limits when we religiously tiptoed down Old Bond street in the rain (you can't afford to seek shelter in a Gucci store!).

Friday night barhopping was made extremely difficult by someone who wouldn't visit places with loud music and young people, the old man wanted a proper english silent pub with drunks in tweed coats dammit! We met a former Uppsala player and his rugby friends, who had some trouble realising us girls were players too (but didn't say anything to our faces because they're, well...british). A good night and great warm up for the big day!

We all thought we were well ahead of schedule when we left for Twickenham several hours in advance...but so did everyone else. Four hours before kick off the train was rammed with rugby fans hoping to be able to down a pint or eight before going to the arena. By a lucky coincidence we ran into the Bartender and his number 8-sambo (Happy couple no.2) in the William Webb Ellis pub and, after some sneaky stealing of chairs and a display of a drunk England fan's newly tattooed buttock, we managed to get a table and order some food. Happy couple no.1 arrived as well and we were in a brilliant mood as we 1) actually got our food, 2) got it in time, 3) without any mix ups, and 4) had drinks in our hands...

The game was great, not much kicking at all (unlike last year's clash), some good running, thrilling last second tackles and a sold out arena with 80'000 people singing Swing lo' sweet chariot when Toby Flood put another three points on the board. We were all quite surprised when England's last try was disallowed when the very similar All Blacks one wasn't, a fact that people around us unsurprisingly blamed on "the sodding frenchman" reffing. Add exploding pints of Strongbow to this and you know we were in for an exciting afternoon...

We followed up with a train ride from hell and ended up in Chinatown (as you do). Quite peckish we found ourselves a greasy china buffet of questionable quality next to a brothel... Some of us were reluctant to go in due to "lack of atmosphere" but as an impatient first row said: Are we gonna eat or are we gonna have fun!? We had a little fun as well when we discovered that there was no age restriction for the kid's menu, but you couldn't be taller than 1.20 if you wanted to order from it. You weren't allowed to stay longer than 45 minutes at your table and if you didn't finish your food, you had to pay extra per 100g leftovers!

I said goodbye to Happy couple 1 and 2 at a sparkling Piccadilly. Next time I'll bring high heels and Magnus, I WILL go to places with young people and loud music. Exclusively.

Oktoberfest

We will not mention it again. (Not until next October, that is...)