Rain, Cupcakes and the 'Hand of Frog'...

A very English week on the weather front, it has rained for the last few days; rained very hard! This has meant that outdoor activity has been very much off the agenda. There has, however been something very comforting and homely about sitting in a warm lounge, watching the rain bounce off the pavements and roads outside whilst playing Rugby 08 on the PS2. It’s not all doom and gloom though, it looks to warming up from here with temperatures of +30 predicted for the coming week.

Because Britain is so great and interesting there is plenty of news coverage on Australian TV; and having watched the news this week I couldn’t miss the highlights of the Football; Republic of Ireland Vs France. As far as controversy goes, this was pretty extreme and has forced me to dislike Thierry Henry even more than I already do. The ‘Hand of Frog’ ordeal is even more evidence that football needs to introduce technology to help officiate games. There have been far too many examples of poor decisions in major games that could so easily have been solved in a couple of minutes with the aid of a video referee. The stubborn nature of football and its authorities means that it could be a while before we get close to watching a game in which all major/important decisions are correct. The sad thing is that the Irish (who qualify for major competitions’ about as regularly as the solar eclipse) have no chance of a replay or of getting this horrendous injustice overturned. Their only hope is if the French wave the white flag (now where have I heard that before) and surrender their place in the World Cup in exchange for a replay; which has about as much chance of happening as Scotland qualifying ever again or England beating New Zealand at rugby on Saturday...nil.

On the subject of rugby, I was unfortunate enough to watch England lose to Australia in an Australian pub. I was happy to see Wilkinson in an England shirt again and it was brilliant to see him get through the warm up as well as the game. But apart from that it was same old same old with England not ever looking like scoring a try. Injuries or no injuries England were poor and the game highlighted a few players that just don’t cut it at International level. Matt Banahan for starters who might well be able to run over people in the Premiership but (even at 6ft 5) looks severely out of his depth at international level, even a walk in try against a distinctly average Argentina cannot justify his selection. Shane Geraghty looked below average but I’m sure there is more to come from him. Anyone that has watched rugby with me knows that I reserve most of my sporting hatred for Andy Goode. He is (in my opinion) one of the worst players ever to play Test Rugby. Not only this, he has a beer belly! An international back, a fly half with as much fat on him as a prop from club rugby. It just cannot happen. People have said that he has lost weight; which is a ridiculous statement, Rik Waller is fat and lost 3 stone, the problem was that he was 23 stone to start with. To add to this he is as predictable as night and day and as mobile as Steven Hawking; if only he had 1% of his intelligence.

Well now that is off my chest I would like to address another issue I have with England rugby selection. What on earth has Matthew Tait ever done to upset the powers that be in English rugby? He is arguably England’s best and most creative outside centre, apart from Tindall and yet constantly gets overlooked. Johnson seems to be turning back to ‘the old boys’ in a bid to rediscover the form of 2003. I would honestly rather see us lose by 50 points and play positive, attacking rugby than lose 18-9 in the manner that we did against the Aussies’.

Apart from watching and playing sport this week has been very uneventful. Work has been as interesting as it has got. The swimming pool I work at has a slide and a river rapid ride and so gets extremely busy, especially after school hours. I am certainly earning my money at the moment with swimmers continuously finding new ways to break rules in the pool.

Last Saturday we played against arch rivals Wanneroo in a game that was very heated throughout the grades. I got my first, real taste of Australian sledging, triggered by asking for the sight screen to be moved. For the next hour or so I listened to impressions of English accents, feedback on how good I was and was quite bizarrely called ‘Cupcake’ all day. This was a dig at being English but I didn’t quite understand it. It was very clear that the only English impressions that our ‘Ashes-less’ friends can do are Yorkshire or London and one player even referred to England as ‘cupcake land’. They are a witty bunch. All four grade sides came home with wins against the arch enemy which meant free drink at the club after training on Thursday, courtesy of the club Chairman, happy days.

With the weather hotting up, the next week or so should be a lot more entertaining. Though I have plenty of hours at work to look forward to. Ciao x

Lest We Forget: Remembering our Past

Lest we forget; how could we? In moral terms, you would imagine it to be impossible, though we continue our lives 364 days a year with a mere mention of the reason our great country is as it is today. Though every year, on the 11^th November at 11am, the country stands still, submerged in silence, drowned in appreciation of the millions of people, most yet to leave their teen years, that fought for our freedom 90 years ago.

Last year’s Armistice ceremony was lead by the three remaining World War 1 veterans, Harry Patch, Bill Stone and Henry Allingham; all of whom have passed away within the last 12 months. The ‘Last Tommy’ Harry Patch was the last to die when he passed away earlier this year. The 2008 ceremony will stand firmly in my memory as one of the most moving events I have ever seen. As the two minutes silence got underway, the three stared at the poppy covered pavement, their faces evidently torn by repressed memories that annually return to haunt them. As the bell rang, tears fell from their tortured eyes. It was all too much.

In a moving ceremony, the three heroes carried wreaths as they were escorted in their wheel chairs by current military servers. The eldest veteran, Henry Allingham was determined to stand as he laid his wreath, an action that appeared one battle too many for a body that has witnessed more than many of the attendees of the ceremony could imagine. Teenagers lost at such young ages, whom in the modern world would be beginning work, studying at college and enjoying a life in which danger is miniscule in comparison to the Great War.

As his body surrendered to the challenge, he began to cry. He appeared to feel guilty that he could not honour the soldiers that weren’t so lucky by standing to appreciate their sacrifice - those whom he grew up with, fought with and was prepared to die for. Mr. Allingham needed not to feel guilt, for he, along with every other soldier that has served our nation in any war, is a hero, never to be forgotten.

During a visit to Menin Gate weeks before (his first return to Belgium since the war itself), Harry Patch, the last remaining ‘Tommy’ or trench soldier spoke to a crowd of about 100. He said something very powerful and very important.

“Let us remember out brethren who fell, on both sides”

Many forget that it was not only the soldiers of Britain and its allies that fell, but Germany as well. The Germans were of equal reluctance as the British to fight in the war. In fact, men on both sides were merely puppets of their superiors, men with no control over the war, with simple orders to destroy people whom against they held no grudge.

Ludwig Baumann, a Nazi soldier during the Second World War is currently heading a campaign to pardon all soldiers that were shot for fleeing or rebelling against the Nazi movement. A war he described as well ‘criminal’ and ‘genocidal’. An accurate description and a worthy campaign, that will hopefully result in justice for innocent men who stood their ground against an evil regime.

Once again this year, at the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the Western world fell silent. A silence full of memories and respect; A silence of wonder and confusion for those not old enough to understand; A silence that the world went without for many years during the Great War(s). Two minutes seems an inadequate length of time on terms of the thousands that died; but when the silence is broken, the world returns to its everyday happenings, until next year when we once again bow of heads and gaze down at our poppies to remember.

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them."

There's only one 'Football!'....among other things...

An entertaining week to say the least, including one of the funniest things I have ever seen; more on that a bit later.

I arrived at the ground for cricket on Saturday and overheard my team mates talking about the Premiership football (soccer) results, something about Liverpool losing. Having got up quite late because of an early start on Friday I was yet to see any of the scores. I promptly walked up and asked what the other ‘football’ scores were. The reply I got went something like ‘there wasn’t any football on, it’s called soccer pom!’ ‘We invented so we can call it whatever we like!’ Was my reply. This slight disagreement got me thinking; how can it be wrong to call a game, predominantly played with the feet and using a spherical, leather item, football. Over here ‘football’ is the name used to describe Aussie rules in which the ball is kicked out of the hands and to other players who catch it with their HANDS. Ok, I understand that the only way a goal or points can be scored is by kicking it, but to save confusion there can be only one ‘football’ and in this case the title is better suited to the game in which only one player on each team can use their hands. There is one other sport that challenges for the title of ‘football.’ This is American football, I completely understand that the Yanks are under evolved in terms of intelligence (common/slightly controversial assumption) but there is no way in this world that this sport can be called ‘football!’ Points are scored by catching a pass (which is thrown) in the end zone. Extra points can be added with the boot but the fundamental aim of the sport is accomplished with the hands. That concludes my rant on this topic, case CLOSED.

However it does not conclude my rant on the erratic and irregular specie of the American. Having read the regional newspaper I noticed that Baseball is a well followed sport in Australia. The story I read focused on was the MLB ‘World Series.’ I have never claimed to be an expert, but an event that includes ‘World’ in the title e.g. Football World Cup, Athletics World Championships, normally involves different nations or teams from different country’s that compete against each other. The MLB certainly does not and therefore can surely not claim to be a ‘World’ event. This would make the winner, ‘World’ Champions which is tragic. I know that it be hard for America to come to terms with the fact that it is not the only country in the world and that there is other places over the golden arches and far away but if Manchester United win the Premiership, it does not make them ‘World Champions’. It is no surprise that only 20% of Americans own passports and can therefore travel outside their ‘great’ nation. On top of this, only 8% of American citizens (on average) will leave the USA this year.

Now on to the occurrence mentioned in the first few lines. On Monday we headed into the City to visit Kings’ Park. This is a beautiful botanic garden area complete with amazing views of the city and the Swan River. It also has a War memorial as well as restaurants and cafes’. We lazed in the sun for a few hours, kicking a ‘football’ (see previous paragraphs for details) or rugby ball around. It was a really nice day which we rounded off with a KFC, can’t beat it. But as we left KFC and walked towards the train station I couldn’t help but notice a slight scuffle going on about 20 metres in front of me. It was between two Aboriginal women who had quite obviously had a slight disagreement. After a minute or so, it looked to have ended and the gathering crowd gave out a slightly disappointed groan, bit of an anti-climax. But the crowds’ favourite wasn’t finished and began taunting her opponent who was fleeing the scene. Neither of them could quite see the irony in calling each other a ‘nigger’ or a ‘black ‘see you next Tuesday.’ The two came face to face in the middle of the road complete with their guards up, á la Ricky Hatton Vs Floyd Mayweather. It was like a very heavyweight, hardcore, extreme rules match (for the wrestling fans amongst you). The contest moved out of the road and on to the pavement. But it all ended very soon, a shove to the torso and down she went. The winner got her bag and entered the train station. As she ran through the ticket barrier she told the officer to ‘F**k off, I’ve got a ticket,’ and there it ended. An immensely entertaining and incredibly funny five minutes and yet I still struggle to see why the locals don’t like the aborigines...such a charming bunch.

I also started my job during last week. A beautiful 5am until 1pm shift to get me started. This meant a 4am start; a time of the day that is very unpleasant to be awake at. My previous experiences of this time are all mainly from a night out at Vibe and end as soon as my head hits the pillow. On the brighter side of things, I earned $170 for it, which covers rent for a week, sorted.

Apologies to any Americans that may read this, I understand that it is not your fault and that we still value your support in any future world conflicts (that would involve more than one country hence ‘world’) even if you are renowned for shooting our soldiers by mistake. Also, you don’t help yourselves by voting morons (for want of a better word) like George Bush as President (though I accept it may be slightly corrupt) and making films in which you claim that you won the War single handed and saved everyone there was to be saved; Especially when it is widely reported that it was in fact the British, as you did in ‘Saving Private Ryan.’

Much Love x