The Final post...

Sunday 23rd October All Blacks v France, Eden Park, Auckland

Saoirse keeping a close eye on Sexton

The normal run of events for watching a live rugby match at home is that Linds arranges for Alicia, Conor & Saoirse to be occupied (a bit like a small country) while I get the chores out of the way and sit down to shout at the telly for just over an hour. Sometimes Mateo wanders in, asks who’s playing, watches five minutes and then wanders out again. Generally, however, it’s just me, the telly and a lot of shouting. 

The RWC being in NZ changed that routine. The games were on so early that chores and children were left to their own devices. I found myself watching most of the games with Saoirse snuggled up to me on the sofa. She started to demand that we do ‘pause, engage’ “like they do on the rugby Daddy”. She then announced after the Ireland v Russia game that she wanted to play rugby. Conor informed her that it was a very rough game. “I know that - but I don’t care” came her considered response. 

And so to the final. We’d arrived back in London from Auckland on Wednesday morning and gone straight to work. Jet lag was still messing with our heads so I was already up at 7am for the 9am start. Bodies started to appear about 8am and by the time ITV had started their pre-match preamble the sofa was packed. Mateo had work at 11 but he was already up and dressed!!! Tea and sausage sandwiches were sorted. Bring it on!

We had the Haka! The French tried to emulate Willie Anderson in ’89 but seemed to chicken out at the last minute. Was this a sign of things to come? 

Off we went. France were definitely up for this, thank BOD. I’d been dreading an All Black whitewash. The French are the most schizophrenic rugby side ever. One week 15 blokes from my local pub could beat them and the next they are making the ABs look human. Not great news for our Kiwi friends who we knew would be chewing their arms off the longer the game went on. Piri was kicking like Heather Mills, the poor fecker. NZ’s finest, Ritchie McCaw left his knee in (was it an accident?) on Para and France lost their 10. Trinh-Duc came on to replace him and France continued to improve. The ABs lose yet another 10 and their 4^th choice, Bath’s Stephen Donald came on to replace Cruden who had landed badly on his knee. From a lineout the ABs scored a try in the unlikely shape of No 1, Tony Woodcock. 5 – 0.

Everyone is still sat on the sofa. 

Second half and Rougerie & Dusautoir were having the game of their life. Penalty for the ABs. Donald slots it over under what can only be tremendous pressure. 8 – 0. A few minutes later France go over under the posts. It’s  Dusautoir! It’s converted. 8 – 7. Game on!

The remainder of the game is so tense. Like a game of chess. I wouldn’t want to be a supporter of either side watching this. The French are playing like they can win this and the ABs look scared.

The last two minutes have the ABs pushing the French back up the pitch scrum by scrum. The kitchen sink is thrown in by both teams. 

80 minutes. Penalty given away by France. The ABs jump around. McCaw remembers they still have to kick it out to win. Out it goes!

I felt bad for the French. It was as close as any game I’d seen throughout the whole tournament. Overall I’m glad the All Blacks won it but I’m equally glad that France turned up and gave it a go. 

So our RWC odyssey is over for another 4 years. 2015 is in England. I suspect there might be the odd Kiwi using the spare room given the conversations we had while roaming the north Island.

A great RWC. A great holiday.  

World Cup me hoop!

The long goodbye

Monday 17^th October

Time to say (a long) goodbye

We got up extremely late, and were put to shame by Rachael going to work and Dave going out exercising. Still, our last day waking up without our small person alarm. We headed out to buy some last minute presents and to try to shake off the last –day malaise. Lunch followed at Prego with Dave, Rachael, and Sarah. We had New Zealand whitebait for the first time – smaller and tastier than their UK counterparts.

Sarah with a famous New Zealand pie

We headed back to Rachael and Dave’s for a small drink before leaving, and the next thing we knew, we had invited ourselves to their friends (next-door but one) Simon and Wing’s to discuss Coronation Street (RIP Betty) and look at their amazing art collection.

All too soon the taxi came, and after dropping Sarah at home, we headed, tearfully, for the airport. Flight went as well as could be expected in economy, and we landed in Hong Kong on time at 6am.

Tuesday 18th October

After a bit of argy-bargy (‘but I’m travelling first class!'), we discovered that in order to check in our bags we had to get the train from Hong Kong airport (which is on a different island from HK itself) to HK Central. Things went smoothly from there, and we emerged, dirty and blinking, into the sun of Hong Kong. After a breakfast overlooking the harbour, we went to find the famous Star Ferry, an amazing old boat which pitched and rolled its way over to Kowloon, giving us amazing views back over the city. We wandered around the waterfront of Kowloon, and down the Avenue of Stars, in amazingly hot weather (for which we were not dressed). 

Kowloon was a weird mixture of Chinese herbalists and tobacconists and high-class designer shops. It was hard to get a sense of the place in our befuddled and tired states, but we walked the streets taking in the sights and taking pictures.

The Star Ferry took us back to Hong Kong, and we decided to walk one of the tourist trails. The highlights were the streets of Chinese shops festooned with gory artefacts such as severed limbs and (fake) blood-stained clothing. We’re not sure if this was something to do with the Day of the Dead, Hallowe’en, or something completely different, but it certainly was striking. After a very European snack of muffins and croissants we went on to visit a Taoist Temple, which held the most incense I have ever seen in any one place.

Shattered and very hot by this point, we decided to take a taxi to Stanley, as we had heard that the waterfront was nice there. The trip was interesting – incredible how many people they pack into high-rise blocks here. It’s the absolute opposite of New Zealand, which has lots of land and not many people, and that’s possibly one of the reasons why we did not particularly enjoy our time here. Stanley was Blackpool with better views and better weather, but we found a German (!) bar overlooking the bay, and agreed that a couple of beers looking at the view was not a bad way to pass your layover in HK.

Taxi back to the station, a train to the airport, and to the lounge. Where we stayed, for six (count ‘em) hours until our flight left for the UK.  

More NZ Midgets & the best game of rugby, like ever.

Sunday 16^th October.

 "Hook only missed by this much". Linds & Rachael discuss the game from the night before.

An ex-colleague, Paul West and his family were in town for the weekend so we met up at a local bar, Chapel, for lunch. It was great to meet Ann, Paul’s wife and Zack their 6 year old son. While we were there a gaggle of Welsh players, including James Hook, came in and Rachel doubled her squad pictures for the tournament (she’d also run past Sonny Bill that morning). I had a word with Lee Byrne on the way out.

Tom & Lee Byrne tackle the days big issues

 Before we headed off to the game we were suitably decorated by Alex, Emma & Sam in All Black colours, tattoos, silver ferns etc but I snuck my tricolour in my pocket just in case I might need it.

 Thorn / Rose interface #2

We all headed off down the ‘Fan Trail’ singing, waving flags and generally making eejits of ourselves. There’s a ton of stuff going on as you head to the ground, my favourite being Midget NZ a group of 10 year olds covering AC/DC. All Black fans don’t seem to have any ‘songs’ so with the help of some French fans we kept a sing-a-long going until we reached the ground.

 Not a Tindle in sight

Into the ground and we made our way to our respective seats. Linds and I were sat next to the only two Aussies we could see for miles but the locals left them alone for the most part.

 All Blacks do their stuff

The game itself was always only going one way although the crowd didn’t relax into ‘four more years’ until about 10 minutes from the end. I think it was the best performance by a rugby team I've ever seen and Australia have to take the credit for keeping the score as respectable as they did. The scary thing is that without the best player in the world they could still produce the skills of Cory Jane and the superb Israel 'Deputy' Dagg. These were two players who had to be dragged out of a pub at 2am a week ago, Jane with a dirty tab in his gob.

AB Fans pulling Linds' hair

The trip home was a buzz with everyone blasting horns, cheering and letting the odd Aussie know what they thought of them (all in good spirits, mind).

The Big Rubbee ball & a Welsh spear.

Saturday 15^th October

The day started with a run down to the waterfront to blow away the cobwebs from the evening before. We decided to take a look inside the big rugby ball at the Cloud. After an hour long queue (with Bernard Cribbins' brother) we, along with 200 other souls, went in to see a fantastic surround video (if there is such a thing) celebrating all that’s great about NZ and rugby. The more I see the effort that NZ have put into this RWC the more I worry about what is in store for us in 2015. It’s going to be like the day after the Christmas decorations come down here after the final. Stand still long enough and someone will put RWC bunting on your head. 

A sneaky champagne lunch after running back to Rachel & Dave’s and we were off to see 'Finding Murdoch' a play about the only All Black to have been kicked off a tour (Wales in ’72 after punching a security guard since you asked). Interesting enough story but a bit am/dram in parts acting-wise.

 We found him! Lee Majors plays All Black Keith Murdoch

We left the theatre to be met by a protest, possibly by students but it seemed like a coalition-type event. It was raucous but peaceful enough. Further investigation revealed that it was one of 1000s co-ordinated around the world. The general consensus was that it was nice to see students up that early on a Saturday.

 Down with this sort of thing!

We popped in to see a few of R&D’s friends that lived nearby and were preparing to set off for the Wales v France game. They had put some extra special effort into painting a banner to remind the French of past misdemeanours. You'd have to get up early to get anything past these boys.

Back to R&D’s for a bar-b-q and then the evening’s main event, Wales v France. Warburton’s tackle will unfortunately be the reason why everyone remembers what was a great Wales performance. The 14 guys that stayed on the pitch were awesome. It’s a pity they left 11 points out there at the end of the game. Any one of 4 chances would have got them through. Instead we have a French team who got beaten by Tonga (Tonga!!!???) in the final.

A mission to the Fan Zone

Friday 14th October

The day dawned sunny and bright, so we made our way to Mission Bay, which is along the coast, a little from the centre of Auckland, and is one of the most popular (and lovely) city beaches. We had a delicious brunch in The Mission Bay Cafe before heading into town to look at the Fanzone.

 Sage advice indeed!

Something we have found here is that people in officialdom tend to be much more human and pragmatic than their counterparts in the UK. For example, despite telling us that we could not take the car close to the Fanzone as the roads were closed in preparation for the matches over the weekend, a very gentle appeal to the guard’s better nature resulted in a U turn and off we went. It has to be said that the Kiwis have done an amazing job of preparing for the World Cup (although I understand there were some teething problems initially) and the Fanzone is really a great place to be. In addition to the giant rugby ball (of which more tomorrow), there is a large stage area with constant live bands, lots and lots of different food opportunities, a large indoor bar and viewing area, and The Cloud, an area showcasing a wide range of New Zealand delights, from food and drink to wacky and surprising inventions.

 The most precious thing in the world - with a fake!

From there we returned to the Northern Steamship, and then drove to The Flying Moa, where we were due to return the SatNav which Sarah’s colleague had so kindly lent us.

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows...

Thursday 13^th October

Today, the inevitable bout of homesickness struck. There have been many times over the past week when one of us has momentarily been overwhelmed by the vastness of the distance between us and most of the people we love in the world, but usually they have been mercifully fleeting. A combination of a late night and bad weather meant that we were both pretty miserable this morning, and wishing we could go home.

 A gannet in NZ

Sarah bravely tried to rally our spirits, and eventually the weather started to clear and we drove out to Muriwai Beach, which is on the west coast of the island. The west coast beaches are much wilder than those on the east, and have black volcanic sand. There is also a gannet colony there. We went for a walk along the beach and agreed that it reminded us of the west coast beaches of Ireland but with less rubbish. Our spirits lifted, we stopped at Soljans, a Kumeu winery and had a really lovely lunch accompanied by wines from the winery. 

For the evening, Sarah had organised a tasting menu at Number 5 and despite the vegetarian option being beetroot risotto (the two things in the world that I really cannot eat) we enjoyed our meal and matching wines and the homesickness was banished.

 Thorn / Rose interface #1

Catching up with a Tower of Beer

Wednesday 12th October

It’s been a hectic week and a half, so the plan for today was to take it easy and not do too much running around. We were due to meet a colleague of Tom’s (Sheree) for lunch, so off we trotted to Big Picture Wine, which boasted an ‘Aroma Room’ but very vocally did not offer chips or dessert. Clearly we look like the sort of people who cannot go a couple of hours without chips or dessert. Post lunch we then moved back to Sarah’s, where we spent the afternoon catching up with some unavoidable life admin. 

In the evening we met another colleague of Tom’s (Dan) for a drink in town, in a pub called The Bluestone Room, which sold odd-looking towers of beer. We failed to join the pub quiz which had thankfully started half an hour before we got there and opted for an early night to recharge the batteries instead. For some reason we decided to sit up into the wee small hours searching You Tube instead...

It's fecking freezing!

Taupo to Auckland Tuesday 11th October

Linds woke me about 9am and asked did I want to go for a swim in the lake. "Eh, no" says I, “It’ll be freezing”. "But there was steam coming off it last night" said Linds as she headed off out the door in her swimsuit.

10 minutes later she’s back. “It’s fecking freezing! People stopped and stared at me as I went in. The woman at reception said the steam was just some thermal overflow pipes going into the lake and it would have only been warm around that immediate area”. I said nothing. I checked the interweb later and the temperature for the lake was 11 degrees.

Ice cold in Taupo

The plan for today was to visit Huka Falls (the most visited natural attraction in New Zealand suprisingly) and then Wai-o-Tapu (a thermal wonderland apparently). We bumped into Selma and Patty in the car park of Huka Falls. They didn’t look any happier after a nights sleep. Linds dissuaded me from teaching them the Haka at the Huka to cheer them up.

To be honest I was a bit meh about Huka Falls. It’s a lot of water according to the blurb but it doesn’t look that spectacular. I think we’d been spoilt by all the other sights we’d seen over the previous week. Make your own mind up.

On we went to Wai-o-Tapu singing ‘walking in a thermal wonderland’ as we went. Wai-o-Tapu is Maori for ‘Sacred Waters’ and is an area of geysers and colourful hot springs in the Taupo volcanic zone.  It’s truly amazing and words can’t do it justice. It is 'mad Ted'. Have a look.

What a dump

Wellington to Taupo Monday 10th October

We said goodbye to Wellington and set off to head back to Auckland via Lake Taupo where we were stopping for the night. A quick diversion to Lindale to buy some ice cream and see a bee hive and then we headed to Palmerston North (145km).

 

John Cleese said of ‘Palmy’, as it is known, “If you wish to kill yourself but lack the courage to, I think a visit to Palmerston North will do the trick” after a performance there a few years back. The town responded by naming the local dump after him. Our reason for visiting was that Palmy is home to the NZ Rugby museum. The first ever game of rugby played in NZ was held in 1870 and organised by Charles Monro (a statue of him sits, or rather kicks, outside the main door). The museum itself was basically a history of the All Blacks and didn’t shy away from the protests against Saffa tours etc. On the way in I was asked if we had a rugby museum in Ireland. “Yeah” says I, “it’s packed with mementoes of our moral victories in the 5 & 6 Nations, Triple Crowns and World Cup Quarter Finals”  The interactive part of the museum had a ‘test your scrum power’ machine. A 12 year-old Kiwi kid built like a brick outhouse beat me...

After that we did the hard yards to Lake Taupo (242km). The clouds descended and most of the trip was spent with about 20 meters visibility. When the weather turns here it does it quick and nasty. Thankfully we made it in one piece to ‘Cottage Mews Motel’ about 3km from the centre of Taupo, and with a jacuzzi in every room. For dinner we decided to walk into town along the lake. Lake Taupo is basically a live volcano full of water but it hasn’t erupted recently. As we walked along the lake and evening fell we could see steam rising from the water. Linds decided to stick her hand in to see if it was warm. “Just like a bath” says she. “I have to go for a swim in that tomorrow”. We discussed how the famous Lake Taupo trout could possibly live in water as warm as a bath but there was no telling her (well, she is half Yorkshire). We passed a parked up camper van with ‘Irish and Proud’ posters all over it and gave them a wave.

10 minutes later as the rain started to really belt down they passed us and stopped to offer us a lift (I had my Ireland hat on). Our conversation turned up the information that they had been in the van for six weeks, were thoroughly miserable, and that they were two ladies from London. They were puffing away on fags like there was no tomorrow. They dropped us off in the middle of town. Not so much Thelma and Louise, more Selma and Patty.  A nice Italian meal sat next to two Munster boys and then a cab back finished the night off.

At last - The Webb Ellis!

Wellington Sunday 9th October

Sunday morning was a struggle coping with sore heads and hearts. We decided a bit of culture might soften the blow of the previous evening. To be honest, I’d have happily jumped on a plane home. We headed into the centre of Wellington and had a look around Te Papa, the National Museum of New Zealand. They had some fantastic Maori and Pacific Islands displays but we were extremely lucky to see the Webb Ellis cup that was on display there from 9^th – 14^th October. 

 The closest any Irishman got to the Webb Ellis

We also attended a ‘Haka experience’ which we thought would be a few videos explaining the history of the Haka and a few guys doing one for real. It turned out that we were the ones ‘doing it for real’. Six at a time, you entered an oval shaped room and these interactive figures appeared on the wall in front of you to ‘train’ you how to do the Haka. After 5 minutes they get you to do it for real (male and female versions are slightly different) and then they show it on video outside afterwards to everyone’s great amusement.  We can safely say the All Blacks have nothing to fear from our pathetic attempt. By then we’d laughed so much that Saturday evening's gloom had lifted. I took a rather ‘tired and emotional’ call from a friend in Dublin who admitted to still feeling very upset at the result. I prescribed 8 hours sleep and an attempt at the Haka as a cure.

Te Papa is also home to ‘THE GIANT SQUID’ a monster squid with eyes the size of footballs. A fisherman was shark fishing and the shark was attacked by this giant squid. I know! Can you imagine? This thing is over 4 meters long. Lindsay watched the story on a 3D short movie and jumped out of her skin when the squid made his move. She passed on the idea of calamari for lunch.

We spent the afternoon back at the twisty, windy house and then walked into Wellington for the evening games (Australia v South Africa at 6pm and then the All Blacks v Argentina at 8:30pm). Food and beer were had at the Thistle Inn, Wellington's oldest pub (where a kind, but drunk Kiwi implored us to go to 'the only Welsh bar in the southern hemisphere' - we passed) before heading home.

It’s only a game eh?

Ireland v Wales, Westpac Stadium AKA ‘The Cake Tin’ Saturday 8^th October 6pm

 Where's me thermal blanket Ma?

After a restful night on Friday we set off dark and early on the day of the big match. It’s 440km from Rotorua to Wellington, and we wanted to get there early to soak up the atmosphere, so by 6am we were on the road. A blanket of thermal fog covered the landscape while the sun dragged itself slowly over the tops of the volcanoes. It was a magical and somewhat spooky sight. On down past lake Taupo (a live volcanic lake) past the snow-covered peaks of the Tongariro National Park, through the ‘desert’ and finally around Palmerston North and into Wellington. Linds had done a sterling job of getting us there well in time with the most taxing part of the drive being the last couple of km to the house. Although we had been warned that it was a twisty, windy road we weren’t quite prepared for just how twisty, windy and bloody scary it actually was. You can get some idea from the photos of just how steep it was. 

 A house on a very, very steep hill

Bags in, showered and then off to town for some grub and pre-match scoops. We checked out the fan zone but it was fairly sparsely attended at about 2pm so we headed into a place called the Green Bottle (guess what sort of a pub that was, go on guess, you’ll never get it). Chips & curry sauce was on the menu and Linds decided to go the whole hog and get her face painted. Hardly anyone in
green had an Irish accent (mind you the Welsh weren’t much better). One part of the bar was labelled ‘Ticket Swap’ where an Irish fan had left the plea “Corcaigh man looking for tickets for QF, Republic v Wales”. Underneath someone had scrawled “Typical Cork man, which fecking Republic?”

 A rugby convert. Catholicism next? 

Off for a walk and then into Mac’s Brewhouse by the Fan Zone. By 3pm it had filled up and more and more the accents were becoming familiar and more difficult to understand. We set off for the ground (a 20 minute walk) at 4pm and stopped to help some ukulele-toting Munster fans out with ‘Athenry’ as they were struggling with the chorus. Through the train station and down the platform, onto the walkway to the stadium, surely the strangest way to access a rugby stadium. Also it’s only got two entrances but it was easy enough getting in. 

We were ensconced in our seats by about 4:45 and a text home to Dave C informing him of my whereabouts (In the stadium, halfway between the 22 and the tryline, no idea if left or right cos I don’t know where the cameras are, come on Ireland!) elicited the response ‘In my scratcher (bed), on the right hand side, near the window, in my Paul O’Connell peejays and scrum cap. No cameras. Up soon and up Ireland!’

 A Kidney In Wellington, yesterday.

The stadium filled quickly and the eejits dressed as leprechauns etc. made their presence felt. Rugby- wise I was confident but nervous. Sure we would win but I didn’t want to say it out loud in case I jinxed us. Jinxed us for feck’s sake. What sort of mumbo jumbo is that, eh? I’d about as much say in what was going to take place out on the pitch as any of the plastics or ‘Oirish had. But sure you'd do or say anything if you thought it might tip the balance...

Ireland’s call. A crap song to be fair but I was crying as I belted it out.  To be honest this Ireland in front of me are a rugby team first and everything else second but it’s hard not to well up when a shower of feckers from the small country where you were brought up are fronting it up against the big boys (or another shower of feckers from a small country in this case). 

Off we went... It was a very quick and smart start from Wales and we were caught cold. I still wasn’t worried. We’d won four games in the RWC for the first time. Form was improving all the time. BOD was making all the right noises this time and looking like he really believed in it. Hope was really worth having this time around, surely to jayzus. And so we came back, attack after punishing attack. We turned down kicking chances (with ROG in the team it was hard to see why) but the basics were all there. BOD had promised us, get the basics right, the rest will follow. Wales soaked it up. Texts from home said they couldn’t keep it up. They would break sooner or later. 

And so they did. Second half is hardly a few minutes old and Keith ‘flight of the’ Earls is over for his fifth of the tournament. Here’s where we kick on. Same as against Italy. Semi final here we come, England or France I don’t care. Now we are with the big boys. Now we can finally crow about it.

Wales obviously had other ideas. They turned up again and again. We tried but didn’t have whatever it is, in us. No excuses, they were better on the day. We’ve been better than them too but it was more important to be better today. 

Leaving the stadium I, as they say in Wales, won’t lie to you, I was sick. Even now less than 24 hours later I’m starting to feel sick just typing this. Yeah it’s only a game but what a game. Lindsay started to understand why it is I go now. The build up, the people, the atmosphere (Sidenote: Soccer songs and ‘Mexican Waves’ at rugby? They can feck the feck right off – we don’t need you thanks very much). 

We eventually got out of the stadium no thanks to only two exits. Fans milled about together, there was still the France v England game to watch but even the thought of England getting beaten didn’t cheer me up. We watched the first half and then made our way back to the twisty, windy house tired and not a little tearful. We spoke to the kids on skype and life stared to make sense and come into focus again. Sure it’s only a bleedin game eh?

Road Trip

 Auckland to Rotorua Friday 7th October 2011

After customising the rather nifty little sports car that we were borrowing for the journey, we set off out of Auckland for the long and scenic drive down to Wellington for the quarters, taking in some of the North Islands sights on the way. After a breath-taking drive through the scenery of the North Island coast, we arrived in Rotorua around lunchtime and checked into our motel, which boasted an extremely warm swimming pool and also mineral pools. Rotorua is reknowned for the healing properties of its thermal bathing, so as I had a bad cold Tom was all aches and pains we were excited to try the local bathing.

Our first move was to take a short walk around the lake, which was like nothing either of us had seen before - like being on the moon. Oh, and the whole town smells of rotten eggs, thanks to the sulphur bubbling up from the pit of hell itself (or the earth's core, depending on your world view). We saw the steaming Rachel Pool (water at 212 degrees Fahrenheit) and checked out the local spa opportunities.

From there we took a walk through the compact centre of the town (most places we have seen here are laid out in a grid system, and the locals seem to prefer mall-type shopping) and stopped at The Pig and Whistle for fish and chips and a small beer.

We had heard that the Polynesian spa was less busy in the afternoon so we ambled along, having first removed all our jewellery (the minerals turn silver black, apparently). The private pools with lake view were deemed to be a 'little cold', so we opted for the private pools without lake view. Polynesian Spa

Relaxing in the pool was idyllic, but I'm afraid a combination of a viscious cold virus and being norther European defeated us both and we left feeling a little peaky. A quiet evening in our motel finished off the day.

Relax, Frankie says Bon Chance

Thursday 6th October 2011

Rachael wanted to take us to Waiheke which is where she and Dave got married about 4 years ago. It’s a 35 minute ferry ride from Auckland. Luck was on our side as we arrived to pay for tickets and the ferry left as soon as we got on. It travels out past Rangitoto which is an inactive volcano before docking at Waiheke. We’d called ahead to hire a car for the day and picked it up from Bernard Cribbins. He proceeded to give us a potted history of the local flora around the car park on the way to get the car. “Don’t tell them about the cannibas plants eh?” said a wag as we passed through. Apparently Waiheke is renowned for its ‘hippie’ lifestyle. 

Since we arrived here I’ve been trying to pick up an Ireland flag. Everywhere we went they were sold out (the normal response was “after the Aussie game”) so I was well pleased to round a bend to see a big ‘Flags!!!’ sign and plenty of Irish ones available. A quick stop and some unrequested advice about Eccles cakes later we were back on the road. 

Stonyridge is a vineyard and restaurant in the middle of Waiheke. It’s the exact spot where Rachel and Dave got married. It’s stunningly beautiful. A platter of food and some bubbles were ordered and we got to talking to the Maitre ‘d who had also been there for Rachael’s wedding. He mentioned that his partner was from Liverpool and it turned out it was Paul Rutherford (Frankie Goes To Hollywood) and that he was due in for lunch in a bit. Nice, we’d get to meet a genuine 80s pop star. “Oh yeah, and the whole French squad are on their way for lunch in 30 minutes” he added as he walked off. Holy jayzus!

Well Frankie did arrive and we said hello and got a photo, but up close and personal with the French squad was awesome as they say in NZ. Huge lumps of meat and bowls of rice were slung on each table where the players sat in their ‘France’ labelled tracksuits. A couple of birthday cakes were brought out after lunch and everyone joined in singing happy birthday in French. Mind you if their singing is any indication of their togetherness then England are home and hosed on Saturday!

We then drove to Onetangi beach on the north side of the island.  It’s a beautiful beach with very little going on which was perfect. We walked up and down the beach and just as we were heading to Charley Farley’s bar for a quick scoop 5 of the France team arrived, stripped down to their boxers and dove straight into the fairly cold sea. It was all I could do to drag Lindsay and Rachel away, such was their concern for the players safety. 

Once we’d dropped off the car we took the ferry back and bumped into former England (and Question of Sport!) captain Bill Beaumont as we got off before heading back for dinner at Rachel & Dave's.

Next trip is to head to Wellington for the game with a stop off at Rotorua and the hot springs.