“There’s a few early starts. It’s gonna be mental.”
Copyright Julie Scott, describing our France itinerary. The only reason Trading Standards might want to have un mot vite with her is because you could replace ‘a few’ with ‘all’.
It wasn’t meant to be like this. TLF’s vague ramble in Bath about going to France to soak up some Women’s Worlds Cup action was forgotten for a while but then of course we got inspired by the Lionesses, the social media buzz of what an amazing thing was happening in France. All of a sudden a vague wish had been masterfully translated into action and commitment by Julie (with gratefully received logistical support provided by The Hemel Scum [THS] or his new nom de plume ‘Scott Tours’). Three days in Lyon with an early but direct Eurostar on the way out and then a chance to chill in Lyon; a bit of culture, a lot of local vin et biere, check out the local cuisine, soak up the atmosphere and try to get tickets for the final. But hey, if we didn’t, then we’d watch it in a bar.
Well the last bit turned out c’est vrai.
We didn’t plan the trip expecting Ingurland to get through to the final. Equally we didn’t think about who might get to the third place play off. In Nice.
293 miles from Lyon.
Four hours 30 mins direct on the fast train. If there are spare seats to book (there weren’t).
But we couldn’t not see Ingurland could we??????
Cross country it had to be. Scott Tours were put to work and with steam probably coming out of both his ears and his iPad, miracles were performed and the ladies were going to Nice. Via Lyon, and Valences and Nimes (day one)and Marseille (day two) and then back to Lyon (day three) via the airport. What could possibly go wrong?
Nothing as it turned out and no Mr TLF, turns out I didn’t need to know the French for “you are being deported.” Instead it was an epic, manic trip with my football bestie. Yes we know Ingurland lost in the 3rd place play off, but we were there, at a World Cup Final Third Play Play-Off!! We got to meet the amazing people behind the Free Lionesses Fans’ Embassy Team, who not only know their apostrophes, but also followed our epic train journey AND consistently gave the best and funniest advice to travelling Ingurland fans. And yes, it was emotional.
We met some lovely people; those supporting various teams and also those working (well generally serving us beer and fromage), the weather was tres beau, our final day in Lyon was an absolute blast; some proper time to drink beer…I mean embrace the culture. A trip to what was actually quite a decent fan park…complete with a chance meeting with an American who lives in, yes of course, St Albans and was bemused to see a Mighty Saints shirt. And if you’re going to watch a world cup final in a Scottish pub in France, occupied by wall to wall Americans (the ones who were caught on TV chanting “F8uck you Trump” at the final whistle) you may as well be wearing the oranje of the opposition.
The one lesson learned, is to always remember that if your Mr TLF (or equivalent) is a Facebook friend, and you post in a beer fuelled fashion on your timeline, he/she will know about your drunken shenanigans, before you even get home. OOPS.
Four days, eleven trains, three hotels and not much sleep later we were back in St Pancras. We bumped into a friend of mine and her young daughter, who later that day, back at home pointed to a picture of Meg Rapinoe and asked if that was her ‘mum’s football friend from France?’
Well TLF certainly ain’t going to the f8kin White House.
On y va
Le Renard Perdu
On a train
In a bar
In a bar…
On a train
In ANOTHER bar