It's Test Day

And it's warm with clear skies.

I hope it stays like this. The Welsh don't know what to do if it's not raining.

This Blog Aten't Ded

It was just resting, and not in that "pining for the fjords" kind of way.

Life got in the way of both my and the Brat's blog-keeping there for a while. Let's hope we've managed to fight it back into a corner long enough for something to actually happen.

And that brings me straight onto the World Cup. Of football, known to some as soccer. A game I used to play and the Brat still does, and a lot of fun to watch and speculate on whether the ref inherited his blindness from his mother or his father (whoever he is). And whether gross ignorance of the offside rule is learned or hereditary.

Sadly I haven't been watching a lot of it, because of the time zones (sometimes living in the South Pacific sucks fetid donkey balls through bendy-straws), but I do know that:

New Zealand drew with Slovakia, thereby scoring their first EVER point in the World Cup

If you point at the English goalkeeper and go "HA ha!" you can make him cry

If Argentina win, Diego Maradona has promised (threatened) to take his clothes off and run through the streets of Buenos Aires naked. Heck of an incentive there, mate. Cue Hand of God jokes.

And the other big news is that this weekend the All Blacks play Wales in the last ever test at Carisbrook. I'm going to be there, but not with bells on (I value my life) shouting at the Welsh with the rest of the rabble on the Terraces.

In keeping with our tradition of finding useful phrases in the visitors' native language, here's what I'll be yelling at them:

Ach hefyd 'n annwyl chan dafad!

You are too fond of sheep!

Pryd ewyllysia Torchwood bod 'ma?

When will Torchwood be here?

Pawb chan 'ch glo ydy berthyn i ni!

All of your coal are belong to us!

'ch fam anwyliannau Dan Certiwr hefyd!

Your mum loves Dan Carter too!

If you happen to see me at the test feel free to say hello, buy me a beer, save my spot while I make a run for Loth-loorien, whatever.

And if you know how to pronounce any of the above and/or bring me a towel (Welsh is a damp language), I'll be even happier to see you.

Helpful Terms

The All Blacks are playing France at Carisbrook tonight. I won't be going because it's no fun without the Brat, who is still suffering from a case of Wrong City Syndrome.

For those of you who are attending, here are some helpful terms that may assist in your enjoyment of the experience, with thanks to Babelfish for translation.

Your mum wears combat boots!

Votre maman porte des bottes de combat!

All of your base are belong to us!

Toute votre base sont appartiennent à nous!

For great justice!

Pour la grande justice!

Oh my god, there's an axe in my head!

Oh mon dieu, il y a une hache dans ma tête!

Jesus Christ, it's a lion! Get in the car!

Jésus-Christ c'est un lion! Obtiennent dans la voiture!

You are a velocipede!

Vous êtes un vélo sur rail!

The pen of my aunt!

La plume de ma tante!

Homlessness

So, here I am, in the rubble of my soon-to-be former house. The Tin Shed is going to be sold and I have a week to move my crap. I had relied on Wellington to boost my spirits by winning at the 'Brook, but Otago once again got their giant killer act on and stuffed them. I'm not sure WHAT Wellington were up to, or what the Otago boys had with their half-time oranges, but that second half was something very special. I don't think Wellington had the ball in Otago's half at all. Shameful display.
I was quite disturbed at just how good Ma'a Nonu looked compared to everyone else. How different a competition would the Air NZ cup have been if the All Blacks had been involved? Would there have been more than three men, a dog, a bunch of ex-Wellington College boys, Madam Backslash and I on the terraces?

The terraces are an interesting proposition. When packed with students they emit a life and energy that dwarfs anything short of the Wellington Sevens (which I will sadly not be going to next year.) When they're not full... You feel like more of a sports-yob just being there and cheering. I will be glad to journey north to my spiritual home of the Basin Reserve, where I always feel like a sports-yob just being there. And the ground staff know me by name.

But before then I will be homeless, both spiritually and physically, while I study for those pesky exams and watch the Black Caps beat Bangladesh. Onwards to the packing! (I don't really need three rugby balls, do I?)