One hundred twenty minutes,
One ugly trophy.
Name: Jubilum Pinot Nero Syrah
Type: red wine
Review/notes: Watched the World Cup Final in replay on the bus rides to and from work and, although I was informed of the outcome less than thirty seconds after arrival, was able to steer people away from giving me details all day. Originally, I had planned a Marseillaise theme for today’s haiku but events being what they are….
The wine was another great-but-inexpensive number from Magnum on Wood Street in Old Town. I love those guys.
[DT =Daily Tipple, explained in DT #000 here]
Monthly consolidations/compilations: January
In the World Cub Quarters on the Fourth of July it was the Hessians vs LaFayette en Co, but despite the great American Revolutionary War synchronicity, I had to back (successfully) George III’s motherland. Expecting the ‘Boys from Brazil’ semifinal along with the Flodder grudge match.
The run home last night was intended to take me through Elsfield, Beckley (with a pub stop), Horton cum Studley (with another pub stop), then past the Boarstall Duck Decoy before depositing me in Arncott on roads I’m familiar with and which have bike lanes to jog.
There is this habit amongst landowners here–not all, but a lot of them–of stripping the trail markers off Public Paths and Rights-of-Way in the hopes that it will discourage the legal use of the trails. Of course, they are correct, it does, however most of us that use these paths have trail maps and either a compass or, for the 21st Century hikers, a GPS bothe combinations of which result in us trampling across their farmland willy-nilly.
That’s what happened to me several times yesterday and I wound up following landmarks (pylons, hills, old Army encmpment sites, larger buildings, and farm tracks) to make sure I touched all the bases. This added more than 5 extra miles to the trip and sent me through quite a bit of deep brush, blackberry thorns, and thick forest undergrowth. What a bunch of assholes. The one bright spot in all this was, as I was off trail and in the deepest brush I spotted this bra and pantyhose discarded a few feet over (ouch!):
Anyway, both pubs were closed. It was quite humid and warmer than it has been lately. And, at about 16.5 miles I plunged my foot into a badger hole and this morning my ankle is black and swollen.
23.5 miles total, 3h 10m.
Well, probably more like 3:25, since I stopped the clock when I entered the Plough at Arncott for an ice, cold Fosters. Chat was mostly on the run…they seemed gobsmacked anyone would do something so stupid. Later, it was World Cup chat and as I finished my water (following the Fosters), someone said, “yeah, even the American’s played well this year.”
“I don’t know about that. They seemed pretty much like a club team,” I answered.
“Well, they almost beat England,” the barkeep added in.
As I reached the door, laughing, I replied, “well, that’s not exactly a stunning endorsement now, is it?” It’s probably a good thing I run a lot.
The Spanish team seems to be awakening and the Netherlands team has been on fire all year. But, what makes this a nice substitute for my earlier “dream match” (the Holland v. Ghana match that Uruguay threw a spanner into) is this little quirk that will be noticeable before the clock starts…
Whilst the Spanish National Anthem is instrumental (with no lyrics), the Dutch National Anthem contains this little couplet:
Een Prinse van Oranje ben ik, vrij onverveerd,
den Koning van Hispanje heb ik altijd geëerd.
which translates to English, roughly:
Prince of Orange am I, free and fearless.
To the King of Spain I have always given honour.
The dutch are always good for a dry laugh. Let’s hope they only give the King of Spain honour and not an ugly little trophy. Go Orange.
America and England are out of the World Cup, but I was always favouring the Netherlands, anyway. Now, with a great deal of luck, my dream match could come true… Holland versus Ghana.
Why, you ask? Simple! My old neighbourhood in Amsterdam Zuidoost (known as the Bijlmer) was in the middle of the largest Ghanaian expatriate population outside of Surinam (where most were taken by the Dutch against their will in centuries past). The Bijlmer will be a gigantic party from Saturday night onward if the Quarterfinals go the right.
Here’s a nice introduction to the diversity of the Bijlmer, and an argument that it has greatly improved as a place to settle in the past decade:
And, here is a clip from a series of stories from the local paper about life in the Bijlmer (this time focusing on one of the 15–that’s right, 15–Ghanaian kings living there):
And, if your Dutch isn’t great, try this one: http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa5391/is_200009/ai_n21459797/
Other good match-ups (not necessarily good matches) were:
Spain v. Portugal (the battle of British Holiday Destinations)
Germany v. Argentina (where the Nazi’s fled)
Netherlands v. Denmark (the Herring Cup)