Sunday 29 May 2005, Schipol Airport, Amsterdam
I hated rugby once, you know. In first year at secondary school, we hauled our bags up to the top of St. Patrick’s Hill every Monday afternoon, to run around in the freezing muck.
I had hoped to enjoy this, but in the end it was a little meh. Maybe because I hadn’t seen any of the rugby from the Tour, Sky Sports keeping it all for their viewers. Or maybe because New Zealand were so dominant. Or maybe because I’m not a Woodward fan. Or maybe because the style of writing was only meh-worthy.
This post could be listed under irishify if, that is, I bothered to explain the title. But I’m not gonna. I’ll save it for some other time. Or you can google. Whatever, its all good. All the time.
Where was I?
Ah yes, pigs. Or, to be more precise, Piglets.