On screen we’ve had a still image of a sleeping technician for the last 20 minutes; we missed France in favour of getting some meat and some bread, completely forgetting that there was an hour’s break immediately after France and we wouldn’t be gone that long. So for a while we were enduring a mega-mix of 15 minutes of Czech bits followed by a 15 minute loop of the nunanunanej bit of the hometown entry. It’s slightly overstating the case to say that I wanted to kill someone by the end of it. Slightly.
Meanwhile, Roy’s been having a terribly genteel fight with some competing journalists, after inadvertently plugging something in at the exact same moment that their computer went wrong. And I’ve been having a terribly genteel fight with Phil about what tickets we’ve actually got for the delights to come in Week 2. We’ve come to an accommodation on that one, rather than going back to the apartment to check!
Later tonight, we’ll be drifting off to the Federation Palace for some kind of welcome party. We’re hoping that a nice lady will wander over and say “Hello! Have you been to a welcome party before?” in the style of this classic advert from the past.
But we suspect that she won’t. Shame. I think it’s all about to go chikichiki – incidentally, Exeter are 1-0 up. Still loadsa time to get it back yet though!