Six Nations Rugby Championship 2024

Anyone who knows our family will know that almost without exception we love watching, and in some cases playing, a good game of Rugby Union.  With me it started way back in the early fifties, when my father played for Chiltern Rugby Football Club at Chesham, Bucks.  Even now the smell of an old fashioned Clubhouse, bare wooden floor boards, mud and sweat, or the sight of a rather thin, dry sandwich with curly edges, takes me straight back to those days.  I have to admit that I didn’t take much interest in the games then, but clearly the seed was sown.  I progressed to watching rugby at Twickenham with the family for years and then had the good sense to marry a rugby enthusiast!  Richard played at school and then for the ‘Floaters XV’ at Dartmouth, a team in which to earn your colours you had to down 14 pints between opening and closing hours.  He never won his colours! Adrienne played for Wasps in her early days in London after leaving school.  She herself would admit that she did so for the social life that went with it, and particularly because she knew how jealous/irritated her brothers would be seeing her dressed in the Wasps’ strip.  This phase in her life didn’t last long, but we did watch her play once.  The alarm and horror on her face, and the speed with which she got rid of the ball the one time it landed unexpectedly and unavoidably in her arms, was testament to her skill and genuine enthusiasm for the game!  Tom was (sorry Tom, has to be ‘WAS’) a very good scrum half both at school and beyond, and modelled himself on Johnny Wilkinson.  Ben was described by Tom, in his Best Man’s speech at Ben’s Wedding, as ‘a talented yet painfully slow and defensively inept fly half’!’ And now we have grandsons playing the game.

In the Seventies and Eighties we found like minded friends with whom  to watch the 5 Nations Championships.  Thus the Rugger Buggers, who got together to watch all the matches every year on television, was born.  When we were living in Germany in the nineties, an intrepid bunch of Rugger Buggers drove out to Frankfurt just for a weekend of fun and televised Five Nations.  A very depleted version still exists today. This year, of course, Richard and I found ourselves in France for the Tournois des Six Nations without a single Rugger Bugger to share the excitement.  As the date for the first round of matches drew near, we noticed to our delight that Caunes’ rugby club was advertising tickets for the opening match, France v Ireland, watching on a giant screen, with paella and drinks.  We decided to get a couple of tickets as it seemed a good way for us to get into some village life.  However, having made that brave decision, when we approached Mme Boulangerie, who we were told was selling the tickets, she said that it wasn’t happening after all as there hadn’t been a good enough take up.  But despair not, la Grande Fontaine had picked up the baton and the evening would now take place there - complete with paella! 

Sitting in a French bar, surrounded by French rugby supporters, eating paella and watching France being crushed by Ireland, was not the most comfortable of experiences!  What we did learn was that the French quickly lose interest in a match they are losing and are quick to condemn their own team as useless.  Not for them the loud vocal support that Richard keeps up throughout a game when England is playing, optimistic to the last blast of the whistle, whatever the score.  There was one particular character at the bar who was really quite unsettling.  Tall and thin, with a bald head, he made regular sorties to the loo, passing close to our table, stopping every few yards to shout unintelligible words, gesticulate wildly and stare around with wide scary eyes!  We felt he was either suffering from Tourette’s syndrome or was a trifle unhinged.  Everyone just seemed to ignore him, so we did the same! 

Some matches we have watched à deux from the house, with Richard giving the dogs the benefit of his rich seam of ‘Naval’ expletives and vast knowledge of all rules and wiles of the game.  We have also spent many hours in la Grande Fontaine where he is wise enough to keep himself unusually restrained, and it’s been very enjoyable.  We are greeted warmly by the other rugby enthusiasts, with hand shakes and friendly greetings when we arrive, and are always shown to a table with a good view of the large screen television.  France has had an uncomfortable season and that is probably why the support for their team in the bar has been unexpectedly mediocre - except of course for our barking friend with the staring eyes!  He is always there, always behaving in the same way, and we have got used to his odd behaviour.  Despite appearances, he’s not a threat.  

 For the final match of the season, France v England, we just had to be at la Grande Fontaine,  to share the buzz and the atmosphere.  There was for once a smattering of English supporters there, so a few voices joined in with ‘God Save the King’ when it struck up on the television.  However, we all sang the Marseillaise enthusiastically, although none more enthusiastically than you know who!  It was a fantastic game with both teams playing their best rugby of the competition.  We cheered when the French scored and cheered even louder when the English scored.  Everyone showed appreciation for good play from either side.  At the final whistle we were quick to congratulate all the ecstatic French fans in the bar and it was heart warming to see a smile on the face of our barking friend and receive a warm handshake from him as well.  Perhaps it was as well the final result went the way it did!