Sunday 8^th July

Yesterday we drove to the Cenotaph and caught a bus to Bellerive oval.  Sounds simple and efficient…well it wasn’t really, either coming or going.  It was a beautiful day and we did enjoy the bus trip, when the bus finally got there…we had stood very patiently for about half an hour with a group of equally patient non-complaining would-be merrymakers. 

The river looked wonderful, adorned as it was with several glamorous tall ships – Windeward Bound and Lady Nelson, cruising back and forth under the bridge.

But our goal yesterday was not the river...it was…the footy!!!  Two mainland teams were playing (North Melbourne and West Coast) and we had arranged to meet a selection of eager primary school boys closely related to me.  Pete was also going to watch Harry play with the Sandy Bay club at half time.  He watched, Proud Grandfather, from our muddy little encampment on the Hill, and pointed him out to Gavin and Jeff.  They all agreed that yes indeed, that was Harry, eight years old, tall with bright red hair.  Well done Harry!  Pete rang Martin, Harry’s father, to say that he was watching, all agog with admiration, only to find that – ahem – Harry was on the other side of the ground in red, not straight ahead in blue… Never mind…

Hobart is – apparently – starved of football and the game was completely sold out days ago.  17,000, a capacity crowd.  Gavin and Jeff had got there early and had staked out a position where we could sit, thank God.  Pete and I stood for a while in a dense crowd.  I knew I would be able to sustain enthusiasm for about three minutes at the most so I was very glad when Jeff found us and led us to the comparative comfort of his picnic rug.  It was all very pleasant, everyone so enthusiastic, no real animosity.  I did hear two pleasant-sounding woman behind me, discussing one of the players on The Other Team who had crashed to the ground.  “I don’t have anything against him personally,” said one of them.  “But I do hope he is badly injured.”  Oh.  Nice!

I did enjoy being with my boys.  As far as the game is concerned – well Aussie Rules is a great spectator sport, so swift, so athletic.  But it is much easier and more pleasant to watch it from a comfy couch, with close-ups, a nice G & T, and a heat pump churning out warm air.