“No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.
“No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinised, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely, they drew their plans against us.“
When HG Wells penned his novel, The War of the Worlds, he envisaged a threat from without; a Martian invasion bringing mankind low, routing civilisation by use of advanced technology. Ultimately, mankind’s fate rested on an invisible ally, earthly pathogens doing what humanity could not and laying waste to all those Martian plans. HG Wells may well not have envisaged that renowned thespian, rugby fan and bon viveur, Richard Burton, would narrate Wells’ words to Jeff Wayne’s epic music less than a century later, but the suspicion is that he could not have predicted that those same earth-liberating pathogens, filtered through the lens of the humble pangolin and crepuscular bat, would turn their powers against us.
And yet, your humble reporter found himself setting forth to Heidelberg, the foreboding cloud of Covid-19 only beginning to make its presence felt, hindsight allowing that valour was most definitely the better part of discretion on this occasion. We came together, a pack of eight, and though we may not have looked quite the beefy, gnarled and grizzly part that number usually represents – can one grizzle in a scarf? – but over the course of two nights we put in a shift of ale-drinking an international pack would be proud of.
To Vetter’s, and our pack was drawn together in a local brewery serving dunkelbiers and plates of meat and sautéed potatoes stacked perilously high. Serious discussion took place as to what a group of rugby-loving bloggites would do now that two of the three final-day 6 Nations matches were postponed; the news that two postponements were now three only served to harden our resolve: we, the good people of AOD, would have a good time. And that is exactly what your intrepid reporter did – a foray to the Drugstore, a speakeasy where the schnapps was fast and the talk was faster; bonded by our common purpose and strengthened in the face of adversity. This reporter staggered back to his humble abode at a relatively sane hour, leaving an unnamed few to head off to a subterranean nightclub aptly called The Cave, and, much like Joe Marler, they were went on down to see what mischief they could cause, and, again like Marler, they could happily take a ban – it would have little consequence in this day and age.
The dawn of a second day, then, and a stroll along Heidelberg’s Hauptstraße served to emphasise the impact Coronavirus was having – not a single soul was seen for some hours. But as the day drew on and venues opened, this reporter was joined by Meades, emerging from the morning’s Stygian gloom like Roland Bertranne, cutting a dash in Yorkshire brogues and dazzling white trews that even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer. The obligatory cultural touristic opportunities were availed upon; a trip to a wonderful bookstore where this reporter picked up a small piece by Wells contemporary Mark Twain, on his trip through Heidelberg by means of raft; a handy comparator for our own weekend, perhaps. Joined subsequently by Boanova (worryingly sporting a Leinster jersey) and SoYouThinkYou’reaWaffleman (equally worryingly, wearing a Munster top), gelatos were consumed, coffees were discussed and downed, and impressively steep hikes were had.
Sufficiently exercised, and in need of strong libation, we repaired to the venue-that-was-to-be-the-venue, The Dubliner. Joining Thaum and Mr Thaum, talk turned to our common love of rugby, and arms were chanced by suggesting to staff that they avail of YouTube’s wealthy repository of rugby matches for us all to enjoy, given the absence of any matches. Sadly, even Iks’ eloquent pleas fell on deaf ears, and instead we set about reviewing the season that never ended, remarking on standout players (Stuart McCloskey appears to have Thaum on a retainer for PR work*), and into the gap where our attention would have usually fallen, stories were exchanged, witticisms were slung and the occasional train refund form was completed. But that is another story for another time.
As Thaum has already elaborated, we moved on the Bar Centrale and thence to its restaurant neighbour Dorfschaenke, for pleasingly filling food and even more pleasingly outsized wine bottles. As the night began to wind down, several of our pack went separate ways; Thaum and Mr Thaum returned to the Bar Centrale to investigate the gin options, MrsIks went home to rest her weary hosting head, Boa had hit his limits and made good his escape. A round of beer and schnapps, and we remaining few parted ways, handshakes, hugs and backslaps abound.
And, in it all, Wells prose kept returning to my mind; MisterIks as the astronomer Ogilvy, assuring us that the chances of anyone getting a fine, were a million to one; only to then explain that for feeding ducks, he was served a 55 euro penalty notice (he still has no regrets and post-lockdown will continue his campaign in the face of teutonic adversity); SoYouThinkYou’reaWaffleman as Wells’ artilleryman, slowly losing his sanity as his left-handed passing fell to pieces and suggesting that a return to that subterranean life in The Cave may be the best solution for humanity; and the sight of Boa stood atop the Thingstätte, an arena built in Nazi-era Germany, dressed all in black whilst wearing a Leinster jersey, is one which will live long in the memory, if only for the nexus of humorous corollaries it brings together. And through it all, through the fantastic hosts, the pints, the ball-throwing and the brilliant company, there was the sense that from the madness, something beautiful had grown, or rather, something we had all known had been reinforced; that our blog-meets are something to be cherished. Not so much a case of à la recherche du temps perdu, more a case of à la prochaîne.
But the boss don’t like these dizzy heights
We’re busted in the blinding lights
Of closing time
As experienced by DropTheClaw.
Ovally Balls 
Watching Countryfile. Which reminded me of:
Mary had a little lamb
The doctor was surprised
When Old MacDonald had a farm
The doctor nearly died.
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Mary had a little lamb
And the midwife fainted
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committing
https://thebiznews.org/2020/03/24/robertson-blames-coronavirus-on-oral-sex-lady-chemicals/
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I can see that match if I choose too BB, so not every pleasure is verboten over here in Old Europe.
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Mary had a little jam
‘Twas raspberry jam they said
And everywhere that Mary went
The jam was sure to spread
Can’t beat plundering the junior school vaults in pandemic times
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Good to see our chief medical officer (Scotland) is a prize twerp
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Well of course these idiots will blame everything bad on people doing stuff they don’t like. But that’s a bit weird even by their standards
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Chimpie – she really should be fired if she doesn’t resign.
Mind you, the English lot are no better. Everyone (the Cabinet, Cummings, Wossername) fleeing the Johnson who was merrily boasting of shaking hands with CV patients.
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Not sure if that’ll happen. Staggeringly dumb and tone deaf though
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Trump sounds like a poor actor reading directly from a movie script written by Ed Wood Jr. in this clip:
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She has resigned, and now Spaffer’s in hospital.
Does he still think it was funny to insist on shaking CV patients’ hands?
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Iks – Trump always sounds like a poor actor reading from a particularly bad script.
He seems to think that the US ‘peak’ will be in the next couple of weeks. Given their lack of health and social care, I think they ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
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Boris Johnson hospitalised
On a personal level I hope no man or woman loses their life.
On a level up from that, we need to increase the lockdown, FFS, what does it take to get the message through?
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Having said that, I did go up to the offie earlier
I walked up an empty street and waited until the one person in the shop left. I went in and bought two bottles of wine and paid contactless. I sanitised my hands as I left the shop, and washed them for 30 seconds when I got back home, again without seeing a soul on the street.
I squirted the wine bottles with a bleach-based kitchen cleaner and wiped them down – no fingerprints left there.
I think that was ok, but it might not be
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The Scotland medical officer who just had to resign for a remarkable blunder could get her inspiration from Ireland’s PM, who will work as a doctor one day a week.
Yes, there is a bit of PR in it but I like it.
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What Trump failed to mention is that a significant number of those deaths will be thanks to him and his acolytes.
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On a happier note, my Saffer buddy sent me a link to a classic matchup between the Crusaders and the Blues, back when the Blues could actually win. Flair, I don’t watch much French rugby. Any recommendations on a classic T14 match to watch?
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Avs,
Kolbe vs Russell from February:
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There’s a Clermpnt-Toulouse game from a couple of years back that is spectacular. Will have a look for it later.
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This is the first part (of 7) of the bow tie final between Racing and Toulon. Racing look sleek, well-coiffured and as if they fancy themselves a bit too much. Toulon don’t leave the same impression.
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@TomP – Eric Champ looks ready to kill somebody and eat them.
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More like Eric Chomp.
Or Chompy McChopFace if you prefer.
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Avs, what Tomp said.
There was a spectacular final between Biarritz and Stade Francais around 2005. l was lucky to be in the crowd as these tickets are harder to get than any other game, including France vs the ABs.
Will look for more later. Out of my head, most games involving Clermont, Toulouse and recently Racing will be entertaining.
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The 2016 (?) final was good. Racing lost their scrum half to a red card early and Imhoff played 9 for the rest of the game. Not brilliant running rugby but gripping.
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Can’t find that game on youtube at the moment but the semi-final was a game and a half:
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Refit – I loved that Tweet of God tweet. It can be applied to any of the religious groups who are not socially isolating right now.
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Chimpie – when I heard about the minister visiting her second house it just reminded me of all the times politicians have said one thing and done another. Pretty dumb in this day and age.
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Then I realised that I had been going to my garage in my ‘second home’ to get stuff during the lockdown.
At least I wasn’t photographed doing it.
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As long as you never let anyone know you’re doing it, you’ll be ok, craigs.
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Quick, somebody let The Sun know!
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We expect your resignation immediately craigs
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resignation from what I don’t know.
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@craigs
Stop showing off.
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‘Chimpie – when I heard about the minister visiting her second house it just reminded me of all the times politicians have said one thing and done another. Pretty dumb in this day and age.’
Chief medical officer, so not officially a politician
Still dumb as hell. Quality messaging.
‘everybody needs to stay at home to beat this, only going out for essentials or you’ll be fined. Unless you fancy a trip to your second home every weekend and want to do stuff outdoors’.
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Colleague friend got fined 30 notes when the cops did a bag inspection when she came out of a co-op and only found a bottle of prossecco and packet of crisps.
‘essential’ is open to interpretation
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@chimpie
that’s not legally enforceable. As far as I can recall there is no definition of what is essential or not. When the cops went into shops stopping them from selling Easter Eggs on the grounds they were not essential they got slapped down by their own bosses. Hope your colleague friend refused to pay.
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Plus the shelves of my local Co-op are often empty. I might have gone in to buy bread, milk, and potatoes but not been able to get any. If I bought prosecco and crisps that is not evidence my trip was not essential.
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Chimpie, I hope your colleague got the polis’s names and badge numbers.
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Apparently not.
Consistency on this is a mess. On the one hand stalking people with drones & random fines for the wrong shopping etc. then people buggering off to second homes etc. with impunity.
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New policy should be just tazer anyone who looks a bit dubious. At discretion of individual officers. Can’t see any problems with that.
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That’s Craigs fucked then…
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Well if he will go swanning off to his second home on regular occasions what does one expect.
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That’s Craigs fucked then…
Best news inna while….
Oh wait, you mean the opposite.
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I repaired the roof on the kids playhouse and watered the lawn.
Essential.
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Hope you’ve scarified the lawn too.
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This is pretty dumb:
A pool at a disused Derbyshire quarry, known locally as the Blue Lagoon, has been dyed black in a bid to deter people from swimming in it.
Buxton Safer Neighbourhood Team, part of Derbyshire police, carried out the operation a few days ago after they received reports of people gathering at the picturesque spot – despite being told to stay at home amid the Covid-19 pandemic.
Now all I want to do is visit the jet black lake.
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Top 14 League game last season (or season before): Racing vs Toulouse…………….
Toulouse down to 14 after 10 minutes and trailing at the time – and won.
Brilliant game of running rugby
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Nothing worse than a mossy lawn
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