Scotland on Sunday

New Zealand supporters had flown across the world to come see the crunch game in their group, after they crushed the Italians, the All Black fans knew that it would be worth their while to leave France to come to Edinburgh to see their boys get a real test. I also decided to go, I was not able to get a VISA for France, and although being unable to book a flight or a train to Edinburgh, I went up by bus.

The plan was to drive up late at night via the bus, sight see and soak up the atmosphere in the morning and get back for work the next day by leaving late at night.

No change of clothes, no room, no base, just a will to get my hands on some tickets and enjoy Edinburgh.

I had not been to the capital of Scotland since 1999, I had forgotten how wonderful it actually is. I suppose this was helped by my good mood, I had slept the entire bus journey, the only think which woke me was the stand-in bus drivers heavy breathing and bad braking.

I was hungry but had to wait over two hours for my Scottish breakfast. I was not prepared to eat at Mcdonalds, even though it is the one place in the world where it could sound authentically local.

I walked down Princes Road, and nothing was open for breakfast, I headed up to the Royal Mile, now while some travel guides will call this street kitsch or a tourist trap, I think this is wonderfully original and besides the odd eatery or watering hole with a cheap name, I am sure many a Scot does come buy their kilt here. Most establishments were also closed, except a corner café with a rude owner. A black plague soon set on the Royal Mile as the All Black fans came out of the wood work. I ventured up to the Castle, the definitive landmark of the city and got to spot Graham Henry taking a quick walk with his wife.

I had a traditional Scottish breakfast with Haggis and potato pancakes, it was very good Haggis, not too much heart and not too little oatmeal. The All Black fans were outnumbering the Scots by about 12-1, the Kiwi supporters oozing confidence, The Scottish supporters bracing themselves for the inevitable.

I ventured down to the Greyfriars Kirkyard to see the grave of Bobby, the terrier who watched his masters grave for many years, one of the most popular spots in this city. I also went to the Natonal Museum of Scotland which is good for the whole family and even the most hardened rugby fan would not admit that they would have learnt something there. I also visited the Scottish Parliament a very modern building which is very impressive but makes no mention to the controversy of its creation.

I needed to start the trek to Murrayfield, a good 30-45 minute walk, on the walk I met Belgians, Spaniards, Canadians, Frenchmen, Basques. The walk takes you through the more edgier part of the city, passing pubs full of supporters. There were more Scottish supporters but it still seemed like they were in the minority.
I was also disheartened by the way the Scottish fans were outgunned in size and voice by the All Blacks. I suppose they conceded and gave their tickets to the All Black fans who wanted to see an exhibition match.

I still like the Scottish rugby supporters, I have always found them very loyal to their team and also very gracious in defeat (sadly this happens too often), however I thought they lost their marbles on Sunday.

They sided with coach Frank Hadden’s decision to rest almost the entire first XV, they bought his line about resting their players for the big match with the Italians and that they needed to keep their eye on the ball for that match. Why did Hadden not tell the fans and the organizers before the World Cup, that they need not arrive for the match at Murrayfield, and that in order to keep sanctity at that fine institution the game should have been switched to Glasgow or Galashiels.

I still had no ticket, but I bumped into Scott a newly converted rugby fan who was selling tickets, I bought a £118 ticket for a meagre £50. It was a great deal, but as always with touts one has to have an air of scepticism. I followed Scott like a hawk, had some Scottish beer with him and went in. One forgets how massive Murrayfield is, it hosts over 70,000 people and is a great stadium. I soon realised that I was watching a game with two people who liked rugby but did not know much about it, but that is one of the great things of the World Cup, seeing more people introduced to the great game.

The Haka was ferocious and if the Scottish B-team had any doubts that the All Blacks would go lightly on them, the Haka destroyed any such doubt. However, for me, there is nothing more stirring than the bagpipes and the singing of Flower of Scotland. It is one of those anthems that even the All Blacks probably hummed.

It was a wonderful spectacle, the crowd was maybe too enthusiastic for such a mismatch and the All Blacks were far from being at their best, but I was still very glad to have seen a match.

After a walk through Rose Street and a long dinner next to a Gloucester man who idolized Wales but had an All Blacks shirt on I had to get back on the bus to London. It had been a long day.

I arrived back in London at 05:45 feeling tired and groggy but unlike the Scottish team I still had my pride in tact.



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1)Having Haggis for Breakfast
2)All Black Men in black kilts
3)Scotland to their finger nails
4)Out of Bounds Scott and Dangerous Dave and I watching the game
5)All Blacks vs Scotland