Well, after being sufficiently well-recovered to take the flight back to Long Melford via Stanstead on the 4th I then had a few relativel quiet days at grandad's. Went to an FA Cup match with a friend yesterday between the might and power of Crystal Palace (apparently normally quite a depressing team to follow, I mean, if an Australian can make it as captain [Popovic] then there must be something drastically wrong!) and Northampton. Superb refereeing, he gave the good guys two penalty spot kicks and one free kick, all converted into goals, even if some of them were awarded in somewhat dubious circumstances! Crystal Palace 4, Northampton 1.
Ive gotta say English football matches reall are something compared to our rather sedate AFL and cricket crowds. It seems that half the art of going to the football is not necessarily knowing whats going on on the pitch, but knowing all the various war cries of your club, (including each player's individual song!), and making choice comments about the opposition and/or referee! Even at the ground supporters of the home and away teams have to buy their tickets from seperate windows, enter seperate gates and sit in seperate stands. Taking in a bottle of water is banned, in case you wanted to take a pot-shot with it at the opposition's supporter's stand or their goalie.
On the way back passing through London Bridge Station, the place resembled more Fort Knox than a tube station with lines and lines of police everywhere, hearing them kinda nevously stutter over the radio "We couldnt hold the group back" even though there was no riotous group in sight. Bloody Milwall supporters.
