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Published: October 4th 2007
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrugby!!! We’re going to the rrrrrrrrugby!” I could barely contain my excitement as the train pulled out of London’s Kings Cross station completely packed with Kiwis. We were all on our way north to Edinburgh for the All Blacks’ pool game against Scotland, an event which had been keenly anticipated by my friends and I since we secured our tickets 12 months (or 365 sleeps) ago. Every carriage was crammed with people, mostly New Zealanders off to the rugby, so much so that those without seats had to stand or sit in the passageways between the carriages for the 5 hour trip to Edinburgh.
We arrived in Edinburgh on Saturday afternoon and Tim, Boniface and I headed for our accommodation, on St Mary’s St just off the Royal Mile. Our match tickets were through the
Beige Brigade supporters tour, so upon checking in at our hotel we were each presented with ultra tight Beige Brigade tour shirts (RWC edition with black panels - beautiful). Bevan, Simon and Kane joined us at the hotel soon after that and with all of us having squeezed into the beige we
"It's about passion, not fashion"
The lads in our new skin tight Beige Brigade shirts: Tim, Bev, me and Simon.headed out on a reconnaissance mission of Edinburgh’s bars.
It soon became evident that the tight beige shirts were restricting the blood flow to our outer extremities, so to counter this we headed straight for the fabled Three Sisters pub to exercise our arms lifting some pint glasses and tackling the BBQ cheeseburgers that were on offer. After a couple of rounds the pins and needles were subsiding and we elected to push on to another establishment where we could watch the rugby. Despite the obvious paradox of drinking in an Irish bar while in Scotland, we headed to Finnegan’s Wake on the recommendation of one of the locals and we were not disappointed. It was suitably packed with locals and visitors and we perched ourselves at the bar alongside some Argentinean guys who were roaring on their team against Namibia. After the rugby had finished a band fired up and pretty soon the place was pumping and we had a great time. When Finnegan’s closed we then linked back up with the remnants of the Beige Brigade pub crawl at another bar.
We woke up the next day and any hint of a hangover was extinguished with
Looking good lads
Tim and Bev show their true colours at the prematch. the electric excitement of match day. Having kitted up in the all-important All Black gear, tattoos and face paint, we boarded buses with about 100-150 other Kiwis for the first event of the day, the official Beige pre-match function at the Heriots Rugby Club. Their hospitality was tremendous, with complimentary pork pies and sausage rolls, cheap drinks and perhaps the centrepiece of the morning, a lone bagpiper for that authentic Scottish match day atmosphere.
We headed for Murrayfield in the early afternoon and fortune quickly shone upon us as we flagged down one of the scarce Murrayfield-bound public buses (the ground is a fair 4-5km hike from the centre of town). However once we had gone a few 100 meters down the road one of our crew (I won’t name names so lets simply refer to him as Spam, a fictitious name chosen almost at random) needed an ill-timed pitstop, bringing the “NO MAN LEFT BEHIND” convention into play. And so well-watered we walked the rest of the way to Murrayfield, which was fine as it was a good opportunity for some pre-match banter with the opposing fans. We bumped into a squad of guys dressed up in French
One for the TMO?
They should have just asked me instead of heading upstairs to the TMO. Clearly a try for Ali Williams. colours, although we pointed out that they were a couple of weeks premature as we weren’t due to kick their arse until Cardiff.
Upon reaching the ground it wasn’t hard to see that the All Black supporters outnumbered the home side by perhaps 2:1, although there were plenty of buskers playing bagpipes which further enhanced the festive atmosphere. There were black jerseys and New Zealand flags everywhere you looked - the expat population was out in force! A few Waikato jerseys walked past and I couldn’t resist a “Hey Waikato - how about those Magpies?” in reference to Hawkes Bay’s triumph the day before. It was like the stars in the rugby universe were all in alignment that weekend.
Believe it or not, but rugby matches at Murrayfield have actually been dry occasions for the last 25 years. The RWC match against Romania the week before marked the reintroduction of alcohol to the stadium, although I imagine that many a flask of highland whisky has been smuggled in over the years for a cheeky wee dram or two. Nevertheless you could say there were a few teething problems on the alcohol dispensing front as they tried to cope
Kilted Kiwi
A bonnie wee Scot embracing the Kiwi ahead of the big match. with the surge of thirsty antipodeans - by the time you reached the front of the queue the beer was so warm and flat that you could have been in England.
Even though we were in Scotland there was no mistaking that this was a very French World Cup with ground announcements all in French and English. The national anthems were all pre-recorded which was disappointing as Hayley Westenra has can pump out GDNZ like no other. I would have even settled for Ben Lummis over the androgynous tape recording. The haka was a ripper with a great rendition of the newer Kapa a Pango, but to be fair the game never really took off. Not content with selecting boys against men, the canny Scots even attempted to camouflage themselves in our alternative strip. Would William Wallace have sent a ‘B’ team against the English at Stirling Bridge? I think not.
The game finished at 40-0 which in retrospect was a satisfying result. The Scots are nice people and we have plenty of our own “Sciwis” back home in Dunedin and the deep south, so they didn’t deserve the humbling that say the French or English routinely deserve.
Tiki Faces
Me, Bev and Tim get in the spirit outside Murrayfield. A fair result and I do like the ‘nil’ bit.
After the game we poured out of Murrayfield and headed back to the bars around the Royal Mile. Another great night out in Edinburgh ensued although I am a little light on specifics. Nevertheless the photo record shows that we met the Pope and that at some stage I wore a horse’s head, although one thing I am sure of is that I didn’t find a chippie that had any deep fried Mars bars left. It’s no secret that the Scots love their deep fryers and even chocolate and nougat confectionary doesn’t escape a good battering. Order a cheeseburger and you will get a deep-fried meat patty and slice of cheese, with the bun an optional extra!
Our train back to London didn’t leave the next day until 2.00pm so I spent the morning having a quick look around Edinburgh. First stop was the statue of
Greyfriars Bobby which will please Nana, as when we were kids she used to tell us the story of Bobby the loyal little watchdog. Bobby’s master died in 1858 and his dog faithfully kept watch over his grave in Greyfriars cemetery every day
Greyfriars Bobby
Greyfriars Bobby has a new friend to watch over. for the next 14 years, until he himself died in 1872.
From there I headed for Edinburgh Castle which sits prominently on the hill over Edinburgh’s Old Town. The castle is very impressive and pretty much mandatory for anyone visiting Edinburgh. Being the history nerd that I am spent 2-3 hours walking around the castle and absorbing the stories of the various events that had taken place there. One of the tour guides, who had a particularly strong Scottish highland burr, described one of the bloody sieges that had taken place (I’ve added in the accent for the purposes of authenticity!):
“The Carrstle was dafundud by only tharty Scootsmun, a wee number for a carrstle of thus seize, while the Unglush were attarking it wuth a forrce of three hondred mun. Thart’s tan to wun odds. Quite tuff for a norrmal foight, but really quite fairr odds in thus case, seeing it was Scootsmun against luly-luvured Unglushmun!”. After my castle tours were over I met up with Tim and Caro and their parents for lunch before we hopped on the train back to London. Tim and I saw deep-fried haggis balls on the menu and we just
Mmmmm Haggis
Deep fried Haggis balls are quite the culinary delight. Pity I couldn't find a deep-fried Mars bar though. had to have some of that. I have heard some pretty mixed reports about haggis but can report that it was actually really good. I’m up in Glasgow at the end of November and I will certainly be seeking out some more haggis (and that elusive deep-fried Mars bar!).
So a really good long weekend up in Edinburgh and a great first trip up to Scotland - there will certainly be many more! Our next assignment is the Cardiff quarterfinal against the French and we lads are heading there in a camper van, with a bit of tiki-touring on the way!
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Caro
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Nice work
Brilliant as always Fitch - you've got that Scottish accent down pat too!