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.