I did not learn from my mistake, my diary was not planned any more efficiently this week. After watching England's opening game from an empty Georgian bar this time I was hoping to enjoy the atmosphere of a home crowd in a local pub. Instead I found myself in Greece, a country with no affinity for the egg shaped ball.
I stupidly had only thirty hours in the UK after traveling home from Eastern Europe, within which I was required to spend over ten of those driving. I flew into Heathrow, made a beeline to West Cornwall for a few hours of work, then drove through the night back to Gatwick for a 5am flight. The disruption to any sleep pattern, the hours wasted sat in a car and the loss a nights sleep was certainly made worth it as it did mean I was able to drop in and meet my one day old baby nephew.
I am not requesting any sympathy as I am fully aware my travel plans were self inflicted, on top of that my trip to Greece was purely for pleasure; I had been invited to a close friend's wedding. The ceremony was planned for the Saturday, you can guess where this is going, there was a big diary clash but this time not due to my planning. The bride and groom, who are both avid rugby supporters, chose the weeding date long before the group stages of the World Cup were drawn, it was far too late to change anything. The biggest coincidence became apparent as the matches were announced, the bride is welsh and the groom English. It made for any extremely nail biting eighty minutes. My consolation for England loosing had to be the look on my friends face as she declared it to be truly the best day of her life.
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