On Saturday lunchtime I headed for Newport railway station, dressed in red, the plan to get to Cardiff, drink alcohol, watch ours boys win the slam, drink more alcohol and get home - eventually. Always stick to the plan !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The sun was shining and things looked good except the q to get on the station was 100 yards long, at 12 0 clock. I called friends in Cardiff and they had been queing to get into a pub since 8 am, they eventually got in around 1 pm. Being a local I sneaked into the station via the back exit and jumped onto the first train to Cardiff and by 12.45 I was in Cardiff central.
THE PLACE WAS BUZZING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!
Every pub had a q to get in, it was a sea of red, with a hint of green and the singing had started. I was lucky enough to be invited to a private party in Sugar before the game, so free beer and food. I buddied up with my mates and we downed a few beers just to be social. The mood was cautious but optimistic. We finally headed to the ground at 2.45.
I have never seen Cardiff so busy, people still queing to get into pubs, still more red, more singing, more hope.
We arrived at the ground, no chance of a beer as the q was huge. Got to our seats and the girls next to us had extra beers which the shared - YES. Max arrived on the pitch and the singing picked up three notches. People were ringing friends. I called my mates in Philly, watching the game in the Dark Horse pub.
Our anthem sent chills up and down my spine !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE GAME - 80 MINUTES OF EVERY EMOTION I HAVE EVER FELT - UNBELIEVABLE
THE FINAL WHISTLE
A nation erupted, emotion on emotion, joy of joys, more singing, more rejoicing and 30 minutes later we were still in the ground. Smiles everywhere, Ireland awesome in defeat - The day of days !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Back to Sugar, more free beer, Cardiff electric ! The Brassiere followed, Champers continued the campaign. 10 pm, thousands of people everywhere - Still. More beer
Dorothy's for Chicken curry and chips off the bone ( at this point if you know Cardiff you know I was drunk)
HOME, at some hour. Very drunk, very happy and a very sore throat.
Thanks to our boys, the good Lord (yesterday the signs to heaven were all in Welsh !! and Welshies everywhere.
(Apologies to the YD'ers who dived the NDC on Sunday for my non attendance, Tim Ingmire will confirm I sounded like shite !)



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A gourmet who counts calories is like a tart who looks at her watch! : 
