Tuesday 5 December 2017

Why I hate the culture of "good morning"

One of the things I've really been struggling with recently is the insistence from most people to force me to acknowlege them

Most people just call it saying "good morning" and don't think anything to it but to me its a deliberate intrusion into my world, demanding that I give them attention and respond in kind.

Well, most of the time I don't want to respond in kind. Usually because in kind makes no sense - if the person says "good morning" then that's a presumptuous statement assuming that my morning has been good so far (generally they are crap as I'm really not a morning person and really struggle with executive functioning fails in the first few hours awake!), alternatively the greeting is simply "morning" which is a statement of fact and not one I need telling, I'm perfectly aware that it's the morning that's why I'm out of bed! Of course then there's always the people that go even further and ask "how are you" or enquire as to your previous evening/weekend, requiring further effort to actually select an appropriate answer from the bank and verbalise it without resorting to sarcastic bites or scowls.

I fail at this a lot. My answers to "how are you" are often brutally honest and my retorts to queries about my night can cause awkwardness and uncomfortable reactions.

Not that I care, don't ask such a stupid question if you don't want to deal with my genuine response! I find questions about last night/my weekend to be intrusive and not always work appropriate, the worst of which is asking someone if they slept well - particularly if the person is known to be dating/in a relationship - what exactly is being asked?!

The nuances of social interactions can be lost on me, I fully acknowledge this and I work hard to ensure that I learn and maintain key skills for interacting with strangers, colleagues and friends (family have known me far too long to be bothered by morning-me!)

I just wish I could get people to understand the cost of this ridiculous ritual they engage in every day, how I have to use energy to recognise that I am being talked to, put on pause the thoughts I was having when interrpted, school my features into an appropriate 'responding' expression and engage my vocalisation skills while looking at the person and taking off my coat/signing in the building etc. Because you have to be doing something as you respond, if you stop still then this is taken as a cue for further conversation!

Sigh

There is no answer, no way to stop people doing these silly social dances they insist on, I just have to keep going, keep doing what I do to cope and make it through the day without snapping at anyone . . . . out loud that is!

Time to go back to core values

Tis the Christmas season and all through the country there are trees being decorated, cards being written and mince pies being eaten.

And yet, there is a disturbing lack of the core traditinal values of Christmas in sight - the giving of time and wealth freely, the offering of shelter to those in need, the arrival of hope and peace.

My country is still deeply in the midst of the cuts and cruelty era, the onwards decent into a cold civil war called Brexit, a faltering relationship with the rest of the world. Not that the rest of the world is doing much better with the Christmas values, the USA is testing itself apart thanks to a bigoted, nepotistic, vile wotsit that they somehow have allowed in the White House.

Never before in my life have the concepts of "love thy neighbour" and "peace and goodwill for all mankind" been so missing, so conspicuously absent from society. Even the traditional British values of my childhood have faded away, lost into the cesspool of hatred and selfishness that currently reigns supreme; where is the country that stood up for its continental allies, that created a way of caring for its citizens without thought for wealth or status, that vowed to fight to eridacte poverty and hunger, that worked to succesfuly transition empire states back to independence. I grew up in a part of London where I encountered more languages and accents than football teams, attended a school that took pride in the broken bit of wall at the far end of the playing field - all that was left of the previous school building that was destroyed in the Blitz.

There still come flashes of the old values and spirit when it's needed most: when lives are endangered, when sacrifices must be made of the highest level, people still step forward and are counted. The many will always owe the few more than can ever be repaid and that is the heart of humanity at its best, the willingness to be one of the few.

But even these acts of bravery and courage are being altered, our perception of events is shifting again and as more actions are being tainted by accusations of falsehood and egotism the more we allow ourselves to be manipulated by those driven by selfish desires and hidden agendas.

I want to be the kind of person who's word is believed without the need for evidence, I want to be the kind of person who can trust and believe the word of those closest to me. But the world we are living in has destroyed this, other people's actions have destroyed this.

I try to live my life by the core values of my chosen rugby club Saracens: Humility, Discipline, Honesty and Work Rate. These words are there to guide the club and its supporters, to remind us that we shouldn't expect to win every game, that we must be firm in our good practises, that we need to acknowledge when we weren't good enough and that we need to keep moving forwards at all times.

The recent run of losses has been hard, the ever growing list of injuries a concern, and yet I know that we will find our way through this because I know that my club will hold true to our core values, they will be humble and say that Quins (mainly Danny Care) outplayed them, they will respect that we gave away penalties that cost us, they will admit that it wasn't good enough and that excuses of missing internationals no longer holds water, and they will absolutely work and work and work until they can fix this problem, until they find their mojo again and get back to being the brilliantly cohesive wolfpack family we love.

I buy into the Saracens core values just as I've always bought into the traditional Christmas ones.

And so I look to a star for hope for right now, not the one in my club logo or the one on top of my tree but the one proudly displayed on my Santa red shirt, the one my boys earned in Lyon, the one they never stopped fighting for.

I look to that star as we head to our European weekend needing confidence and belief.

I look to that star as I worry about the future of travelling to Europe and remember why I care so much, the people I've met along the way and the places I've been - Toulon, Llanelli, Salford, Dublin and Edinburgh.

I look to that star and remember last Christmas and the gifts my family gave me to help me get to those games, the promises that were kept, the words that held true.

I look to that star and smile

🌟

Thursday 9 November 2017

Fireworks and sensory overloads

So the past weekend was fairly awful for me sensory wise.

I knew it would be, the 5th of November happening and all, but yet again it' the range of days that has worn me down and left me vulnerable and in pain.

I'm sure when I was a kid Bonfire Night (as it was called then, not Fireworks Night) was celebrated on the 5th and/or the closest Saturday to it. And that was all. Nowadays it seems to be non stop from mid October, starting with Diwali and continuing on through Halloween to the 5th/weekend after the 5th.

The thing for me is the unpredictability. On NYE I know the a huge amount of fireworks are going to go off between 11.59 on the 31st and 00.30ish on the 1st January. But I know this and I prepare accordingly. With this melee of randomness it's  lot harder for me. And that's where I find this new obsession with fireworks difficult.

Fireworks are essentially coloured, controlled chemical reactions, but they have evolved over the years to be more about the explosion than anything. The huge bangs and the screechers that leave me with migraine like headaches as my sensory neurons are set alight in my brain.

I grew up in East London for my early childhood so Diwali was never anything strange or new to me, I loved the concept of a festive of lights as a kid, I was fascinated with fire and the sun and how sources of light work.

I remember seeing Diwali events that were all about flames and naural light, huge displays of candles with the only fireworks being used were Catherine wheels and Roman candles - the fizzing fountain type fireworks that are static and looked at rather than shooting up into the sky, the pretty not-noisy ones.

And I remember November 5th being called Bonfire Night or Guy Fawkes Night, and it was predominately about chucking a vaguely man shaped thing on a huge fire to represent an English historical event. I loved that night, spending all afternoon stuffing newspaper into an old jumper and trousers before running outside to light the huge pile of wood gathered up. The evening would be all about sticking sausages to a mound of mash potatoes on a plate to mimic a bonfire and arguing over who could write the best sparkler word.

There are a few fireworks memories but as we had dogs who weren't good with loud sudden noises we generally stuck to the fountains and littler ones, avoiding the bangers and screechers. As I grew up I did go to some fireworks displays but they were at least coordinated and to set timings, I had developed ways of coping with the noise in order to enjoy the pretty visual aspect of fireworks.

One of the biggest issues I have with fireworks nowadays is how common they are. No longer reserved just for NYE and November 5th, it's not unheard of for fireworks to go off on any given day for people celebrating weddings, engagements, big birthdays or anything really.

I felt angry back in May a few years ago when in the middle of the week fireworks were going off at 9pm - I remember it because there was a GCSE Maths exam the next day and I couldn't imagine how tough it must have been to be revising or trying to get a decent nights sleep with all that going on out your open window.

I understand people want to celebrate when good things happen but fireworks have become a bit like champagne - not very rare or special anymore. But unlike champagne which only affects me if I personally drink too much of it, fireworks have a real and serious impact on those of us who are autistic and/or auditory sensitive.

Still, it's all over for another year. Just the British Legion brass bands everywhere to put up with now before I can start drowning out all background noise with Christmas music!!

Monday 2 October 2017

Why I don't want a longer rugby union season

I've been reading a lot of articles recently about the season length and injury attrition, and its got me thinking about just why I agree so much with Billy V and Christian Day.

See, I have the type of life where I can fully understand burn-out and attritional damage. The way being autistic affects me is similar to what Billy and Christian describe when talking about little niggles and injuries that don't heal properly. Only mine is mostly in my head, where the outcome isn't needing surgery or physio, but needing dark and quiet to stop the immense pressure building inside my skull.

Autism Fatigue is a term I talk a lot about so I'm not going to rehash everything I've said before (especially as I'm trying to write a book about it right now!) but the one thing I will say is that the "little and often" approach to breaks only really work when they're in tandem with a longer more complete break.

Days here and there when I don't speak to anyone and don't have to mask are what keep me ticking over week after week, but without that knowledge that I have a longer break on the horizon the mental health aspect kicks in and I spiral into a depressive cycle.

And this is what I fear for our players; that without an appropriate length break/pre season period their mental health will suffer and the knocks/niggles will take longer to shake off when it's so much harder to convince yourself to do the rehab work required.

I don't want to be hearing that players aren't available for selection because they're fighting depression and anxiety as well as injuries, it's bad enough that these guys will suffer through those dark days after they retire, don't put them through it while they're still playing!!

My support of my club and country doesn't wane during off-season, I don't forget about rugby as a sport if it's not on TV every weekend. Yes I miss it fiercely, enough that when it comes back I'm positively chomping at the bit to get over to Twickenham for the LDH, but not to the point where I go looking for another sport to replace it! (Wimbledon and Le Tour don't count, they are events that happen during the day that I watched every year long before I got back into rugby!)

The rugby head honchos don't need to find ways to "keep viewers" around in summer months by stretching the season - a concept that doesn't reduce player work load but actually increases it for the international stars as they will have their post competition rest on a rest week with everyone else and so be available for more club games selection than currently!

Rugby needs to be leading the way in sport in demonstrating to children how to have a healthy relationship with exercise; to not start leading impressionable minds down the garden path to the "must go to the gym everyday" mentality that can cause body image difficulties in young men and women. Rugby union is a shining example of how a sport can be family friendly and still attract the adults, can be home grown and exciting, can be world class and still relatable.

So, to Billy, Christian, and any of the other players saying the same thing, I support you 100% in whatever action you as players choose to take, upto and including a full strike.

I stand with the players, now and always, in saying that player health and welfare must come first in these discussions. Now is the time to take this stand, to protect current and future generations of players and role models while protecting the spirit and ethos of the game we love so much.

#RugbyFamily

Sunday 24 September 2017

Regrets and consequences

There are many mistakes I've made in life, many times I've jumped too quickly or not contained my initial reaction well enough to avoid repercussions. Generally I try not to regret my actions or their consequences as I believe that life is built on a balance of positives and negatives, and that the art of life is to have shades and contours.

That said, there have been things I have done and said in my life that I deeply regret because of the pain they have caused others. I carry these moments in the back of my mind always and sometimes have to fight the temptation to contact someone out of the blue to apologise for something that happened ten years ago. But I still carry that feeling of unfinished business because I never apologised to the level I feel I should have.

My dad tells me to not hold on to the past so much, to live and let live so to speak but that's where he and I are very different creatures.

The demons I live with aren't drink or drugs but the echoes of my memories, the apologies and the should haves. To be able to go back and explain my thinking  (or lack of) to someone in the right moment, that's my selfish self-centred wish.

I can blame being autistic as much as I want but that doesn't excuse all actions, it's not a get out of jail free card. No matter how difficult I may find it to put myself in others shoes that doesn't mean I shouldn't try at times, that doesn't mean I should get away with not thinking about what I know about someone before reacting.

There are many times in life that I've taken difficulties and times of stress and made them into things that I've learnt from, things that have built me but there have also been tines that have chipped at me, that eat me up from the inside and take me two steps backwards.

I've always been a "lazy achiever" - got by in school because the concepts made sense to me, school level work came naturally and easily. But when I had to really work for something I struggled, I stuck my head in the metaphorical sand and procrastinated on things that shouldn't have been my priority, often things that helped others giving me a sense of achievement and satisfaction to mask my growing anxiety about whatever it was I was avoiding.

I know some hard conversations lay ahead of me and it's time to face the music on a few choices I've made recently, even if I didn't consciously realise I was making a choice at the time.

I hope I look back on this period of life as a building block to the person I become, and not an echo I can never shake.

Thursday 21 September 2017

Sarries in Philly!!!!!

There was a lot said about this fixture when it was first announced, mostly negative and critical. And yes, the crowd was a bit thin on the ground and the boys had to work incredibly hard in the humid heat of Pennsylvania but that's not the core of this fixture.

The heart of what the Premiership were trying to do was, in my opinion, achieved.

I spent time before the match with Sarries fans from New York and Virginia Beach, with Newcastle fans who'd struggled with JFK C&I even worse than me, with life long rugby fans and relatively new ones.


I was lucky enough to be in contact with BT Sport this weekend, and thus got asked to be a part of the pre-game filming with Sarra Elgan. She made sure to speak to two of the USA based Sarries fans who were with us before the 'lone' Falcon in the group (he wasn't, just the only one willing and around to be filmed!) and then lil ole me! 
I'd already talked to Sarra earlier in the day when we'd encountered her at the famous Rocky steps by the Philadelphia Museum of Art and had had the chance to have a decent chat with the BT Sport team and even a quick photo with ref JP Doyle when he randomly appeared!

Consequently I found myself kinda becoming the face of Sarries support in Philly - even more so when the Saracens social media team got me to do a good luck message to the boys on Instagram because Paul told them I could "talk for England"!!

I'm happy to do these things though because it's a subject I'm comfortable with, my public speaking reputation is good because I know the topics I talk about - autism, Saracens, space, physics, maths, working in a school, PRUs, all that is in my comfort zone. Ask me to talk about anything else and, well, it may not be pretty!

Back to the topic at hand now!

The match itself was not what you'd call the epitome of English rugby but it was very hot, bright, slippery ball conditions as the sun was setting across the stadium, and to be perfectly honest you're never gonna get the gold standard match in round 3! Maybe the next stage for the great American conversion is to get live showings of the ECC games and play-off matches going in big stadiums, sending a retired player or two over to do Q&As pre game.

My weekend wasn't just about the match though! I've detailed my Friday nightmare in this post: http://hjellis.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/how-many-ways-can-one-journey-go-wrong but once on Philly my attention shifted from my complaining to having a great time in a new and exciting city!

Friday night was spent at the Hard Rock Cafe in my new Wal-Mart dress whilst Saturday morning was taken up with lots of laughter and photographs at the Rocky steps - particularly once Flats got there and had to don a fleece lined tracksuit to copy Sly's famous scenes!

We chose to head to the stadium really early as we wanted to witness the American phenomenon of "tailgating" - an interesting experience I must say!

We covered the car with Sarries flags to let everyone know who we were (Champions of Europe, we know who we are!) and waited to see who showed up. We knew of at least 3 groups headed our way, one of whom pitched up a gazebo so we quickly transferred the flags to the sides and made it Camp Sarries!

The next hour or so was spent sharing drinks and swapping stories of how we started following Saracens along with some interesting tales from the US Navy! We were joined by some Falcons fans and I had some sympathetic ears to my tale of horror and woe from my journey out as they had missed a connection at JFK thanks to the ridiculous chaos that is US Customs & Immigration!!

We were invited to join the BT crew again and so wandered over to the fan zone they were setting up, where I got to have my 5 minutes of fame on camera! (And then get inundated with notifications going "was that you?" "You were on my TV!")

Heading in to the stadium it was a strange place that distinctly reminded us of several prem stadiums, predominately the AJ Bell and the Stoop to me.

The merchandise shop showcased just what some of us are crying out for Sarries to do - women's jewellery!! I picked up one of the official match day t-shirts as a souvenir but was disappointed not to find any of the 'America Series' rugby balls that had been used in the online advertising. We did however manage to find pins which kept Adam happy!

I also struggled with finding a drink that wasn't a soft drink or beer! Having had 2 bottles of peach cider courtesy of our naval friend I was in the mood for another drink. It took a complete circuit of the stadium to find the one bar that did a bottled cider - no wine or spirits options anywhere!! And even then I was given my bottle of cider poured into a massive larger-than-a-pint plastic glass that every time I drank from took up my entire face so I couldn't see anything!!

During the match it was a bizarrely quiet experience, I've grown used to the Sarries fans getting the chants going and there not being many of us meant anything we tried starting never really went anywhere which was a bit embarrassing!

The second half of the game saw several of the non-playing squad wander past us up the steps to their box area, Loz seemed positive about his shoulder injury when I asked him how it was doing which is good! There were some moments of Sarries brilliance showing through, I nearly killed my vocal chords screaming for Wiggy when he went sprinting towards the try line at one point!

Towards the end of the game I head over to the guys to see if they would be willing to have a quick photo with us and the flags, seeing as we had travelled rather a long way to support the club!! At this point the lovely Duncan Taylor was an absolute gent and got the others to hold fire for a few minutes on the final whistle to let us get a few snaps off quickly before they 'll hurtled down to the changing rooms for the tiki tonga session!

Sadly the game had been so hot, humid and exhausting that the lads only briefly waved and applauded the crowd on their quick circuit of the pitch, leaving me fairly deflated and my mind crashing back to that dark place I'd been in after the Edinburgh game in May.

We got out of the stadium fairly quickly after we realised they weren't going to be around any time soon due to PR commitments and probably a vast need for ice baths and physio treatments! Heading back to the hotel fairly knackered and finally reunited with a phone charger I was taken aback when the humid heat very suddenly gave way to a torrential downpour, the likes of which I've only ever seen once in Florida!

Getting back to the hotel I couldn't actually get out my side of the car due to the mini lake forming and had to slide over out the other door instead, suddenly encountering the strangest of sensations - hot rain! The air was still so warm and yet the water was pouring down at a rate of knots!! Very bizarre to an English girl used to rain meaning grey miserableness!

The return to the hotel also brought the unwelcome news that my suitcase hadn't shown up and so a call to the lost baggage number was needed in order to discover that it was in New York and should be getting to me that evening.

After a few hours of unwinding, dreading all the social media messages I'd received about my starring role and generally sorting out plans for the next day I headed off to bed via a quick check with downstairs that my bag still hadn't arrived.

The next morning dawned cooler and grey than before and there was a distinct feeling of dread in my stomach as I woke. Checking my Virgin Atlantic app to confirm when I needed to be at the airport I was horrified to see that my flight home was no longer what I had expected to see!

The flights I'd been booked on for months going home via JFK were no longer there and suddenly I was being flown home via Atlanta Georgia with Delta the whole way getting to Heathrow at 11am!!!

What the hell!!!

A frantic call to Virgin discovered that Delta had inexplicably changed my flights for me and just hadn't bothered to let me know! In tears and furious I demand it be changed back only to be told that my flight to Heathrow was now fully booked!! So in the 48hours between me last checking my homeward bound flight and that morning they'd sold on my seat!!!

I was beyond furious and internally panicking like a man at the gallows, how the hell was I getting home?!? I didnt want to go via Georgia, i barely wanted to go via JFK but had accepted it as a forgone conclusion. The last thing I wanted was more changes, more crap moving me about! I was supposed to go straight to work from landing at Heathrow which is why I'd picked at flight landing at 8am!!

Well, actually originally I'd picked one landing at 7.20am only for Delta to move the first flight later meaning I wouldn't have enough of a connecting time so I'd had to call Virgin back in July to switch to a slightly later departure. And now the bastards at Delta had changed things again!

Eventually we managed to get me on to a flight leaving JFK at 9.30pm, due to get to London around 9.30am. Okay, sorted. Now to find out where the hell my suitcase was!

It turns out it was still (this is Sunday 8am) in frigging JFK having gotten waylaid in customs and missed the last flight on Saturday!! So now my choice was to either ask for it to be returned to London and buy a new hold bag to put all my newly purchased items into to come home or to travel to the airport after 11am to collect it from there in person as there was now no time for it to be delivered to the hotel and me to pack it before we had to check out at 1pm!! I told them to hold it at Philly airport and we would come collect it before midday.

Flights and luggage now sorted we had breakfast and then got on the road to go see the Liberty Bell. It wasn't something that particularly interested me, I look on the independence stuff as historical proof of treason against the crown by a bunch of rebels but that's just me!

We spent some time wandering around the area and I found a way to spend some money in the Liberty hall shop - only I could go all the way to America to their most historical sites and come back with a glitter timer and a maths pendant!

Still, I did have a good laugh at this sign on one of the walls - I've found things older than that in my garden at home!!

A quick visit to the airport to collect my suitcase and we were back to the hotel to change and pack up. I could finally wear one of the outfits I had packed for the trip as everything else got thrown in and locked up again ready to go back to the airport!!

Dennys was our lunch stop choice and it was an interesting experience although I am very glad I went for the big meal of steak and mash given what was to come still!

I got dropped at the airport just after 2pm by the Feaseys as they were off to the British Airways terminal for international departure as they had just the one flight home, where as I was on an internal to JFK where I had a 3hr layover waiting for me!

The check in for my Delta flight threw up an unexpected problem however as their system was still showing me as on the Atlanta bound flight!! Another call to Virgin and handing my phone over to the Delta staff and eventually I got my boarding passes for the right flights!

Suitcase was now back out of my hands less than 4 hours after I'd been reunited with it and I was through security and sat at the gates bored.

Really really bored.

After all the stress and problems last time I'd given myself so much slack time that I was now left with over 90mins to my flight departure and nothing to do! I managed to waste a fair amount of time by finding a charge point and hooking my phone in before calling my mum and then my dad for long chats about the match but that would only work for this wait, by the time I got to JFK they would all be in bed.

The flight to New York was uneventful really, apart from being unexpectedly placed on an exit row! When we landed there was a delay with getting the connecting gate bridge thing to us and I joked to my neighbour that we were spending more time in the plane on the ground at JFK than we did in the air! He was headed for a Heathrow flight to as he was taking a trip to the UK so I shared some suggestions with him of historical sites to visit while there which he seemed to appreciate.

Finally off the plane I found myself at the gate for my next flight in about 30 minutes as there was no security to go through! Now I could see that the flight was already saying a 10pm departure so I had even longer to wait!

And this is where my luck changed.

Wandering around the gate area for the London departing flights who should I see in front of me but one Chris Wyles!

Oh my God, the team are here to fly home!!!

I couldn't believe it, suddenly I'm seeing and saying hi to guys like Wyles, Ben Spencer, Sean Maitland! I even had a brief chat with Sean saying how I thought it's unfair that he doesn't get the try to his tally as JP gave the penalty try because he could see Sean was clearly going to score when the illegal move was made! He agreed and told me he'd been screaming at Goodey to get it to him as he could see he could score it!

I had thought I was going to be so lonely and bored but instead I got this amazing gift of being able to casually spend some time with my favourite people!!

I didn't take any pictures that evening, I made a concious choice to not be a selfie fan who hassled them at that stage but to just talk to them for as long as they let me. Any time one of them said "take care" or "see you later" I would wander off again and leave that person alone. I think one or two of them found it bizarre and I know that a few found it amusing, I was outrightly saying that I was on my own and starved for conversation so was desperate just to see familiar faces! It was quite nice though when some of those faces recognised me back, I'd had a great conversation with Wiggy and his missus at the Bedford game so he recognised me as we chatted briefly, Brad also recognised me from holding the flag up at the end of the game, even saying sorry for not coming over but he was too sore to try to jump the electronics barrier the stadium had separating us from the pitch!

One of the best moments of my whole weekend came though when I saw Billy walking towards me. I asked him directly why he couldn't have released his new book in time for me to read on the flight to which he replied that he thought it was already out!!! No Bill, it's on sale next week! Then, the legend that he is goes and finds me one from one of the lads as they've all been given a copy!! I have Billy's book and it was given to me by the man himself!!!


I was so happy with this and even more so when some of the other players saw me carrying it and struck up conversation about it with me!! George Kruis even joked that it wouldn't take me long to read as it was in big font! Maro was also interested in it when I asked to shake his hand, as I told him, I didn't want to hassle any of them but I'd been trying to shake his hand for well over a year now with little success due to the massive crowds everywhere he goes!!

Maro was an absolute gentleman and had a wry, slightly embarrassed smile when I said that but was really chilled out about me being there talking to him and the others. Most of the team had started filtering through the gate by this point as their flight left ages before mine (Wiggy and Sean had both asked if I was on their flight which I was a bit gutted to say no to!) I made the mistake of asking for "tries to win next week please" in jest to Wyles and Liam as they were going to board and ahead in the queue Owen suddenly turned around to look at me - I'm not sure if he was just surprised by a non-teammate voice or took offence to what I said - I didn't mean anything against him scoring points from penalties!!

Watching some of the huge guys like Will Skelton put flight socks on and line up for sleeping tablets from the harried Laura was amusing, Goodey seemed in an especially happy mood given the lengthy flight ahead!

The funniest moment though was right at the end, I had thought the whole squad had been through by that point and I'd just missed seeing a few, the staff were looking like they were moving to close when suddenly several of them appear armed with McDonald's!! Schalla seemed to recognise me immediately as he sat down with his meal, joking away about the queue for food and laughing when I asked if they hadn't used the "don't you know who I am?" move! Apparently that barely works in England for our rugby boys!! The guys suddenly seemed to realise they were holding up the flight leaving when a staff member came to tell them that they could take their food on board if they wanted to! That didn't stop Schalla trying to give away his fries to the cleaner/me/the gate staff however!!!

As their gate finally closed and that flight departed I was left alone again but with rich, treasured memories of the past hour.

Unfortunately by this point it was far too late to call anyone in England to share them with!! A few dashed off tweets expressing my gratitude to the team before I turned my attention to Billy's book! It kept me entertained for quite a while before restlessness got to me and I had to start wandering again. Annoyingly my flight was now saying it was delayed again, with boarding not due to start until 9.45pm! I was getting rather frustrated at this point, especially as the main reason I wasn't on the team's flight was because I'd been told back in July that I wouldn't have enough time between the flights to make it . . . I clearly would have had plenty!!!!!

Eventually we boarded and then taxied. And taxied. And taxied. Just after 11pm we finally took off and left America!!

I had hoped for a good flight that I could sleep on seeing as I was going straight to work but no. I had a guy in front put his chair back straight away leaving me with restricted room, the guy next to me immediately put in earplugs/eye mask/blanket and go to sleep so I couldn't get out at all and two rows back in the aisle a screaming baby!!

By 9am BST, when I should have started work, when I would have been clearing Heathrow baggage claim originally I was still 617miles from landing and really rather grouchy!!

Still, as the rather stressful trip drew to a close I can look back on some incredible memories and, once my various complaints have been made and settled, forget all about the crap that happened and just remember that I was there and no-one can every take that away from me.

#SarriesStateside
#SarriesInPhilly🇺🇸🖤❤

Saturday 16 September 2017

How many ways can one journey go wrong?!?!

I dont know what deity I pissed off recently to deserve a day like today!

My day started smoothly, I woke in the Park Inn hotel near Heathrow where I'd checked in last night, the room was an upgrade to the one of reserved (yay) but seemed to have the remnants of someone's coffee in it (boo). Still I'd had food (at the bar as the restaurant had a 45min wait for a table for one!) and had a lovely bath before painting my nails the Sarries colours and finalising what was in suitcase or hand luggage.

I'd missed a hotel hoppa bus by a minute due to the check out desk being busy but I thought with over 2 hours to departure I would be fine.

I'd tried the night before to check in using the Virgin Atlantic app on my phone but had failed so I needed to check in at the main desks, this didn't really bother me until the kiosk rejected my check in and told me to speak to someone.

That someone then typed in my details, got a confused look and took me over to the customer service helpdesk where things got, uh, difficult.

It's turns out that despite lengthy conversations with Virgin Atlantic over the past 4 months (since I changed my flight from an L.A. holiday to this trip to Philly) including one as recently as this week via their websites 'chat' function about using my airmiles to fly home premium economy (they told me there was no availability) no-one mentioned that there was an outstanding balance to pay still!!

Now, bare in mind that I had booked these flights by phone in May, at the time I called to change my reservations I distinctly remember being told a figure (the different in flight prices plus and admin fee) and giving the person my card details!!

And yet I'm standing in Heathrow with my flight leaving in less than 2hours being told my ticket won't print as I haven't paid for all of it!!

I was not happy. In fact I very nearly tumbled straight into a panic induced meltdown on the spot!

I stammered about having paid at the time but in the end just handed over my card knowing that the only way I was getting to America today was to pay and argue for a refund later when I can get a May bank statement.

Of course this brought the usual panic around whether my card would go through! Even knowing I had enough in the account I still really sorry with large amounts and get super nervous that it will reject if my bank thinks it's fraud!

So, card handed over should be end of story right?

No

The lady on the desk was coordinating the problem with another member of the Virgin team off site somewhere (their HQ I think) and was being put on hold constantly, told to cancel things she had done until they'd done something, I got very confused and distressed at this point so don't remember clearly.

What I do remember is looking at the clock constantly with the lovely first lady reassuring me that there was plenty of time. By 7.55am I could see she was starting to worry about making my 9.05 flight though. She very helpfully went to get me a glass of water to take a painkiller with as I'd ditched my liquids already!

Bag drop was due to close at 8.10am. The clock kept ticking as this hold music played . . .

Eventually the person on the line gave the go ahead for me tickets to be printed and the lovely desk lady did them as quickly as possible for me, printing at 8.12!

A dash to bag drop then with the first lady, she'd called over to a colleague to not close my flight for me! I then left my suitcase sat next to a check in desk with 2 others and some Heathrow staff who were to take them to my flight as late arrivals authorised to go on.

I was then hurried through to the First Class security where I said goodbye to the wonderful woman who'd been with me for almost an hour at this point, having got me through security in less than 5 minutes!

A quick march to the already open gate with no time to stop to have breakfast, use the ladies or even buy a bottle of water and I was in a queue to board!!

The staff on the flight could not have been nicer to me! They spotted my obvious distress (I'd been crying for close to 45 minutes on and off) and when I told them I'm autistic they just asked what I needed - I replied a drink to which they asked what I wanted!

After that the main staff member for my section in economy (a lady called Jemma) came over to say hi and have a chat before take-off. We discussed the mornings events and how I was still fairly shaky at this point but that I loved flying so was hoping to be okay soon.

By this point boarding had finished and the doors were locked . . . No-one was sat next to me!!! The day is looking up!!

The flight itself was lovely, the first staff member I spoke to brought me my vodka cranberry almost immediately and I started to settle down.

6 hours of in-flight wi-fi goodness later and I was starting to get nervous again though.

I had to change to a connecting flight at JFK, something I'd never done before, as Virgin don't fly to Philadelphia direct. Jemma again was brilliant in reassuring me and talking through what I would have to do once off the plane, she even offered to get some of the ground staff to meet me and guide me through.

Getting off the plane (and leaving my iPad in the seat pocket as I would realise hours later!) I was a bit nervous, being at the back of the plane is great for my wing watching habit but not so good for a speedy exit on disembarking!!

Eventually I got off the plane but discovered that the ground staff were not nearly as helpful as Jemma was, she tried to get the "assist" staff to help me but was told they "only do wheelchairs" and wouldn't help me. After a few minutes I decided to just give up and thanked Jemma for her efforts saying I was going to give it a go by myself.

Well, Jemma had said to follow certain signs as I had a connecting flight in under 2 hours but when I got to the C&I hall is was utter chaos!

I tried to ask staff members for help but they were so ridiculously unhelpful! On man I asked for help just told me to "go elsewhere"!

Eventually I figured out the machines system and then had to join a long snaking queue that was merging with queues of people trying to use the machines! I end up stood for ages near a family with a toddler and a baby, both of whom were being rather grizzly.

As we slowly shuffled about I got to a point where I could see a staff member manning the queue. I tried to speak to him to ask the estimated time to get through but ended up catching the attention if a female staff member instead.

By this point I was very stress and on the verge of tears and close to losing my words completely.

I tried to ask her what the chances of me making my flight we're, holding my boarding pass to display the boarding/departure times as I was getting so flustered.

I was met with a distinctly snide "ma'am if you want me to help you jump the queue then get that boarding pass outta my face"

I tried to say I wasn't asking to jump just for a time approximation and that I was autistic. She turned her back on me, opened the tape and pointed me to a queue at  customs kiosk saying "go"

So I joined that queue, now with tears trickling and my stress scratching moving from my arms to my upper chest/neck.

I was then joined almost immediately by the bloody family with the young kids who stood behind me talking in their language (one of the Slavic languages I think) while the baby did that half-whimper, half-cry thing.

I was sensory flinching every few minutes at this point and whispering to myself to stay calm and not react but it was getting harder and harder.

Over an hour after getting off the plane and having skipped huge chunks of queues, I was next in line for the customs officer. The lady at the desk completed her business and moved through but the officer was typing on his computer so I didn't move. I felt a nudge in my back. I didn't move. I've been shouted at by American officers before for moving forward before called! The officer then looked up and beckoned me forward so I went.

At his desk he was fairly sunny and pleasant but he made the mistake of asking me if I was okay and the flood gates opened then and soon I was crying nearly uncontrollably as I explained my flight was already boarding!

He got me to redo the fingerprints and photo as the machine I used hadn't registered them properly so my C&I official entry to the country photo has tears rolling down my cheeks!!

He quickly processed me and told me where to go to collect my baggage. In the USA all baggage must be collected at your first entry point and re-checked for the connecting flight which to me seems insane, my ticket is for the whole journey so why doesn't my luggage just go the whole way before I get it back?!?!

So I went to the conveyor belt my flight was coming out of, there was huge amounts of baggage everywhere, stacks of it on the floors between the belts and the one I was at had two flights on it, mine and another.

After close to 15 minutes of waiting and watching the luggage come down and join the belt I asked a staff member who was pulling bags off the belt to stack on the floor. He told me that all the Heathrow bags were off the belt now and on the floor the other side - between 5 and 6, not 6 and 7 where I'd been checking!!

Going round I scanned the bags left. No bag. I check with another staff member, that's all of them she said, if it's not there then it wasn't on the plane.

Great. I now had to run to my next flight with no suitcase!

Getting to the Delta desk to check in for my next flight I was told to hurry as it was boarding and wouldn't wait.

Struggling to rush after 7 hours on a flight and with my dodgy back I walked as briskly as I could to security where luckily (as I asked a staff member there about my chances of making the flight) I was queue skipped again right to the x-ray machines/body scanner.

Of course I'd had no time to sort my hand luggage again so it was a scramble to get my liquids back into a bag and separated from my hand luggage bag before I joined the metal detector queue.

I was then told to take my flip flops off. Now London and most Europe airports have for a long time now said you only have to remove shoes at security if they are closed shoes (trainers/boots/loafers etc) not flip flops. But not JFK. No so I had to go back, grab another tray and throw my flip flops in and then join a queue again that was being held up by a deeply stupid/confused old man who kept setting off the metal detector as he had all sorts of crap still in his pockets!

Finally through and reunited with my things (in such a rush I wasn't registering there was no iPad anywhere) I shoved my feet back into the flipflops and set off as quickly as I could go to gate B42. Of course, as at Heathrow it was a gate pretty much as far from security as possible!!

I tried to go fast but a lower back spasm and shin splints slowed me down so much. I walked as quickly as possible and literally made it to the gate as the staff member was announcing "final call for passenger Ellis"!

On to the plane I had a bit of a shock - it was tiny!! I'd just come off a huge transatlantic flight to to get on to a plane that had 75 seats max was a bit 'woah!'

I changed my seat as I was due to sit next to someone but didn't see the point of making them move to let me in when there were so many free rows as the plane was 1/3rd full!

Well, I knew it would be a short flight but we were in the air less than 40 minutes by my estimation!!

The attendant actually said she thinks we were taxi-ing longer than we were flying!!

Finally at my destination I was united with the lovely Feasey family and got to spill my story and tears on to Sue's shoulder!

A trip to the Delta baggage collection desk followed with an explanation of the situation. Apparently my suitcase was still in London!

Now armed with the information that it would be delivered to my hotel the next day around lunchtime, we received a pack of 'essentials' and departed for the car, where Paul drove us to Wal-Mart for me to buy some clothes!!

I'm a pragmatic hand-luggage packer so had put my match outfit in my hand-luggage with 2 sets of contact lenses so I had all of that with me thankfully, but I was missing essentials like pyjamas and something to wear to go to dinner in that evening as I did not want to spend another minute in my flight outfit!

A $90 credit card payment later and I had a selection of clothes and toiletries to sort me out. The Delta essentials kit was nice but only had the basics - a razor, toothbrush and paste, a folding comb, stick deodorant and a thin white tshirt. I needed face wipes, a roll-on (I hate stick deodorant), some eye liner (all my make up was in my suitcase bar my sun cream stick and perfume) and a proper hairbrush!

Finally to the hotel I could have a shower and put on clean (new) clothes to go out to dinner, having first drunk nearly my body weight in water as I was so dehydrated and hungry! No time at either airport post security meant I hadn't been able to pick up snacks or bottled water anywhere and was only surviving because the transatlantic flight gave out drinks all through the flight!

It was a bit of a horrific day all told and I have lots of complaints and lost property procedures to follow now but I'm finally in Philadelphia!!!

#SarriesStateside
#SarriesInPhilly🇺🇸🖤❤

Thursday 14 September 2017

The sensory overload we don't often talk about

There are many things in life that can cause sensory overloads for autistic people and a fair number of them get stereotyped in the media - being touched, loud noises, nasty smells, flashing lights.

But there are so many others that don't get talked about as much - patterned carpets, perfumes & aftershave, background hums.

The one I'm interested in today however is one I really struggle with as a working female.

I'm not sure if it's the female part or the employee part that adds to the strain on my mask with this particular trigger, it could be a combination of both quite easily.

I'm talking about other people's outfits.

Yes, the thing that if you tell someone it's distressing you it's likely to cause all sorts of problems!!

Telling someone that youre near meltdown because of some drilling outside or too much information coming visually from busy displays is reaching a point of social acceptability.

Telling someone their dress is giving you a migraine-level headache is not so acceptable!

And yet I find more and more that that is a huge source of discomfort to me regularly.

Stripes, spots, animal prints, clashing colours, 'unfinished' clothing . . . The list is essentially a guide to "current fashion"!!

If I encounter someone with what I consider to be vile colours on (mustard, lime green etc) I will feel queasy and off-balance for a short while. If I encounter someone with those colours in an pattern or random design it will be ten times as bad!

Trying to work or concentrate when people around you are dressed in outfits that visually make your stomach turn is incredibly hard, I've really struggled at times to cope when having to be in the same space as someone dressed in "non-matching" colours or clashing styles.

I try very hard not to judge people when it comes to fashion choices and in fact my best friend is one of those people who will wear whatever she feels like - grey tights, brown boots, green skirt and black top has been an outfit I've seen her in many times and I've chosen (out of my love and respect for her) to 'ride' the wave of mild distress I get (particularly when her hair is dyed red and she wears lots of multi-coloured jewellery!) when I see her. The outfits always look so good on her and yet the back of my brain itches at me the whole time telling me that "Brown and grey don't go together" and "boots and a vest top, is it winter below the waist and summer above?!"

And this is why it's such a hard and not-talked about concept. It's so easy to offend people when talking about clothes and outfit choices. Unless it's a uniform, that person has chosen to put those items together that day and so to mention them in any way that isn't a compliment is to insult their decision.

Which is why I try to stick to not saying anything!

The trip to Philadelphia begins!!

And so it begins!!

Well, sort of anyway! I've left my flat and won't be back now until Monday afternoon but I've got a days work and a night in a Heathrow hotel before my journey really starts!

It's a bizarre experience, leaving to go on a solo trip. Sure I'm meeting some wonderful friends out there but I won't see them until I exit Philadelphia airport so this whole bit its like I'm going away alone!

The mad panic last night about have I got everything I need, the frantic checking of the passport every few minutes to make sure it's still with me and still in date! (It's got 9 years to go ffs!)

But now, as I approach work with my massive suitcase with tons of room inside it (I'd rather take bigger and not have to panic on the way home that I can't get it shut!) the feeling of anxiety is starting to float away.

I'm sure it will be back with a vengeance tonight when making my way to Heathrow and realising that it's really happening but for now I'm nearly at the office just thinking about another days work and what I need to get done to make Monday easier for myself! (Yes I am going straight to work from landing at 8am Monday!)

Time to work now, then it'll be time to get ready to say #LetsGoToWork

#SarriesInPhilly🇺🇸🖤❤
#SarriesStateside
#LeavingOnAJetPlane✈




Sunday 3 September 2017

Sun, Scrums and . . . . Trombones??

Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the home of English Rugby . . TWICKENHAM!!!!!!!!!


A day I have been looking forward to since the Lions tour ended, the return of the Aviva Premiership season!

A day that started with glorious sunshine and terrible traffic on the M25 (no surprise really!) and should have gone down in my memory as one of the most spectacularly brilliant days in recent history given that we put 9 tries on Northampton Saints!


However the memory I will take with me is not that of burning sunshine and fruity cider, or the superb scoring abilities our boys displayed but instead the memory of intense pain and electric anxiety . . . the memory of having to work so hard to keep a sensory overload at bay.


I love my club and I appreciate the work the staff at the club do but if I ever find out who decided to get a BRASS BAND to sit in the stands amongst the fans and play that damn 'stand up' tune after ever Sarries score there will be blood shed.


My pain, shock, anxiety on the day can never be eased and those who caused it will not be easily forgiven. My day came perilously close to being ruined and it was only my own internal strength and determination that kept me in my seat and not fleeing the stadium to curl up in a rocking ball somewhere.


What rubs salt into the raw wound is that not 24 hours before I had been speaking to people at supporters services after a cock up had been made with my tickets. In order to sit with the family I was taking with me to the LDH I was forced to move our entire seating allocation to the next block across.

At no point in this conversation (despite me mentioning at least once that I am autistic) was I told that the new seats I was being given were just three rows in front of where the brass band would be sat.


I doubt many non-autistic people will be able to but try to imagine the horror I went through on realising that the shock and intense pain I had just experienced the first time they leapt up to play would in fact be repeated every time we scored . . . .


I have never before wished for a game to have no further scoring happen


Unfortunately for my ears, heart rate, blood pressure and sensory reactions in general I didn't get my wish.


No, of course this would be the game we score NINE tries!


By the end of the game my head was simultaneously pounding and ringing non-stop, my heart feeling like I had run a marathon and my nerves twitching like I'd been electrocuted. I could barely keep myself from unleashing my pain and anger on the musicians, wanting so much to scream directly in their faces, wanting to strike them repeatedly round the head until they understood just what they had done to me.


I didn't, I sat on every impulse I had, held my tongue and arms still, swallowed down my words to sit in amongst the roiling bile and spasming muscles.


Most people know a meltdown isn't pleasant, most people know that anxiety attacks aren't a walk in the park to go through but I wonder just how few truly understand how damaging it is to contain a sensory overload reaction? It will take me days to recover fully, I'm still having random stomach cramps and pulsing headaches 30 hours later, I'll still be tired and struggling to fully focus tomorrow at work, but I'll push through because I have to.


I love the LDH at Twickenham, I love my Saracens but right now I don't *like* them very much at all.

Friday 4 August 2017

Big scary change!

I'm about to change jobs and I am absolutely terrified!!!

I was offered the job a couple of weeks ago but couldn't tell many people until all the paperwork-y bits of formal resignations and reference checks had been done, but now thats all complete and I'm working out my notice period and getting ready to go meet the new boss it's all very real and very scary!!

I think the fact that I'm leaving a place that I've been working at for over 6 years now is a large part of the anxiety I'm experiencing; it's been a long time since I've gone more than 2 weeks without setting foot inside an NHESC building. And that in itself is terrifying!!

At the moment I'm trying to remain calm by staying focussed on all the work I have to complete before the big transition - the masters degree work I still have to finish, the living room that needs a serious sort out and the tattered to-do list that listed my original summer holiday plans of personal projects!

One step at a time though, I need to write the coming weeks new to-do list!

Friday 7 July 2017

#30GamesFor30Birthdays - the recap!





So, I didn't make it to 30 games using just Saracens games, but I think given how many players we regularly supply to the England camp I’m justified in including the Italy 6N game and the Baabaas match (which featured Goodey and Brits in the opposition!)

To think about all I’ve done since the season started back in September; to remember all the tries and kicks, the victories and defeats, the trains, planes and automobiles that got me there, it’s been one hell of a journey and while I may not have loved every minute of it I completely and utterly appreciate the way it has changed me for the better.

In using this challenge to mark my 30th birthday I have done more than just celebrate a milestone age, I’ve actively lifted myself into a new level of my life, an ever-growing ability to survive and thrive under conditions that would have beaten me before.

There have been sometimes during this year that I have been battered and broken, but I’ve always found a way back, found people to help me through it, found family in this wonderful, brilliant club.


Because when people talk about Saracens being a family it’s not some trite cliché; there really and truly is a sense of storge and philia. Ours is not a club that is well liked outside our bounds, respected for its achievements yes, but not often liked. And so we find ourselves at times having to ‘circle the wagons’ to protect each other and remind each other that we are strong together.

The words that grace Allianz Park completely sum up the ethos of our club and everything we the supporters believe it:

“honesty, discipline, work rate and humility”

We love our club for many reasons but the fact that they consistently stand by these words and demonstrate them in what they do is what carries us during the tougher times and lifts us in those moments of heart bursting pride when we know that we have *earned* what we achieve.


Looking back on the season, I’ve had some incredible highs and some devastating lows – some in the same weekend! My experiences at various club locations around the country have varied massively and I have been carefully recording my thoughts about each stadium and club to guide my match choices next season and beyond – there are some grounds to which I will never return while there are others I will gladly revisit in 17/18.



So, casting my mind back through the months, here are my 30 games!


Game 1: Worcester Warriors (Twickenham)
The season kicked off with the now standard London Double Header at Twickenham featuring the first home games of Saracens and Quins against Worcester Warriors and Bristol respectively. I must admit I liked that Bristol got to play in the LDH as it allowed them and their fans to visit HQ - something unlikely to happen again for a while for them!

As I arrived at Twickenham there was a feeling of deja vu - to be honest it felt like barely 5 minutes since we'd been there in May winning the Premiership and claiming the Double!!!

At trip to HQ is always something a bit special and that day was no different; travelling with my sister, stepmum and one of my stepmum's friends (my dad had to work that day) it was a day of glorious sunshine and there was a buzzing sense of anticipation in the air from the moment the train pulled in to the station!

While the business end of the season brings great excitement and joy there is an almost unexplainable quality to the opening weekend of a season. Everyone back to zero points, all possibilities opening up ahead, a chance to see what this crop of teams can bring to our beloved game.


Of course, all of this was helped by the fact that England rugby was riding the crest of a wave higher than anyone could have dared believed back when the last season had kicked off! Coming from a crushing and bitterly disappointing world cup the start of last season had been despondent and subdued. Not this year. A storming Six Nations Grand Slam achieved followed by a virtually unthinkable 3-0 whitewash of the Wallabies down under and suddenly our boys were soaring high once more!

People say Saracens are lucky to have so many past and present England players in our team but it's not luck, it's our ethos, our way of life, the culture our club had invested in building. And what people are seeing now is a similar mindset start to appear in the England camp. Funny that, what with Eddie Jones having worked for Sarries a little while back!

Thing is, our boys achieve greatness because they understand that the team and the future is what is important, not the individual. Listen to Farrell or Itoje talk at any point - it's all about the lads and building a reputation as winners and focussing on the next game all the time leading to Japan 2019. And those two will be there, no doubt about that in my mind, The only thing I ponder is which of the two will have that C after his name meaning it's his mitts on old Bill first?!


Game 2: Exeter Chiefs (Sandy Park)
A trip to Devon was next on the agenda, nothing like a 4-hour train journey to test my dedication to the challenge! It was a Sunday game but I decided to go down the day before as I was able to arrange one of my dissertation interviews for the Saturday morning in Exeter, however this meant I needed to stay overnight.
Well, as it was the weekend all the students were moving in to the university the hotels were pretty much full so the best deal I could get was a room in a hotel in Taunton, a lovely town by the sea but quite a train/bus trek from the city. Still, I had a great Saturday in Devon and eventually managed to get back to my hotel via a long wait at a coach station and then a long walk from the coach stop back into town to find a taxi!

Truthfully I was worried about this trip as I knew the game was going to be a tough one given that we were away to the team we had faced in the final just 4 months earlier and we were still missing our superstar Faz. I knew there would come a time when I had to see my team lose and I was essentially presuming that this would be it.

It wasn’t.

The game itself was brilliant to watch and I can’t believe the sense of relief I felt at the full-time whistle. However the experience had already been fairly ruined for me by that point unfortunately thanks to the way Sandy Park is set up.

Word of advice, if you’re autistic don’t go to Sandy Park without earplugs and money for alcohol!

The earplugs got used after half-time when the unbearable din of the ‘Tomahawk Chop’ and the awful acoustics of the stands got too much for me. The alcohol rate skyrocketed when the hideous ‘Kiss Cam’ showed up at half-time!

Still, we won and I had a nice couple of days in the costal sunshine, just a pity the journey home took so bloody long that it was Monday by the time I got back into my flat!


Game 3: Harlequins (Twickenham Stoop)
As I’d had to miss the first proper home game of the season (bloody Autism-Europe Congress happening in Edinburgh over a weekend!) Game 3 was a trip back to the hallowed ground…ish!

The Stoop is the lesser known son of Twickenham but still provides for a good day out for the most part. Unfortunately for me it was the first (but by no means last) time that I encountered the side of live sport I hate the most – when other people think they have the right to touch strangers!

I’m not quite sure how I ended up with a Quins fan sat behind me as I thought I was in the middle of a block Sarries booking but anyway, he’d been okay for most of the first half, some decent rugby banter and general chat, I’d told him that I’d walked past Eddie Jones outside the ground and we’d briefly discussed England selections for the Autumn Internationals.

Then it all went a bit wrong when Quins scored a try.

The gentleman behind me was quite entitled to be excited by this, his team were in the process of beating the current domestic and European champions.

What he wasn’t (in my opinion) entitled to do was to lean forward and grab my shoulders, shaking me and he whooped his delight.
It was game over as far as I was concerned then, it was all I could do to hold on to my reactions and not flee the stadium in utter distress, I felt completely violated and exposed.

To his defence, the guy immediately apologised and understood my reaction when I’d got enough control back to tell him that I’m autistic and he even moved seats to another part of the stand at half-time to give me space but the damage was done.

As luck would have it (fate if you believe in such things) I’d encountered a lovely bloke called Paul before the game with his son (who I’d met in Exeter with his mum Sue) and we’d been talking about why I request end of row seats (for my anxiety management) and we’d been able to swap my allocated middle of a row seat for the end one that Adam had originally been given (Quins had messed up the group booking and put all the child seats together in a row!) Paul and Adam were both really good and stayed with me after the match while I was trying to get myself pulled together for the journey home (Adam was fairly upset too as the loss was our first in quite a long time!) and even offered me a lift home in their car which I gratefully accepted – finding out on the way that they lived only a few miles away from me!

It ended up being the start of a brilliant and wonderful friendship, and something that I am incredibly grateful for, I truly believe that I would have had a far less enjoyable time the rest of the season and may well have given up on the challenge without the support and friendship of Paul, Sue and Adam.



Game 4: Bristol (Ashton Gate)
A Friday night game was a new one for me and something that brought a whole host of problems with it!

First and foremost came the issue that, to have a cats chance in hell of getting there before KO I’d have to be on a train leaving London by 5.30pm at the very latest. Well, I’m not normally due to finish work until 3.30pm on a Friday in a town at least 35 minutes train from Kings Cross, my best possible journey would see me arrive in London at 4.40pm and have less than an hour to navigate across to Paddington in rush hour (which starts at about 2pm on Fridays!)

Having worked all of the permutations of travel out time wise I then looked at the tickets. Sweet mother of mercy! To travel from London to Bristol after 5pm on a Friday was going to cost me over £100! And that was without my return journey costed!

So, back to the drawing board it was and it ended up being a trip to my headteacher to beg to use some TOIL owed to me to leave work early on the Friday. It got a little sticky as that Friday afternoon was a big celebration event as our school had its 40th anniversary but luckily my head realised that I probably wouldn’t have wanted to be attending the event anyway due to the huge amounts of visitors and general stress so agreed that I could give it a miss and take the time off! This allowed me to book at 4pm train out of Paddington costing a ‘mere’ £45!

On arriving at Paddington it appeared that the train I booked was rather popular with Sarries fans, I certainly wasn’t alone with my destination of Ashton Gate! In fact, on exiting the train some 100 minutes later I discovered that I had been travelling with the club’s CEO Heath Harvey and the bossman Nigel Wray! Heath was absolutely lovely when I (almost literally) bumped into him and remembered me from the Worcester game at the end of last season where we’d been sat next to each other and I’d told him about some of the difficulties I face in attending games as an autistic person. Nigel had charged on ahead through the station, eager to get to the ground but Heath has offered to share a cab to the ground with me and another two Sarries fans we picked up at the cash point! It certainly made for an interesting journey to the stadium, especially as one of my fellow fans didn’t know who he was in a taxi with and had to be subtly (see, I am capable of it!) signalled to change the topic of conversation when he started getting a bit negative about the way the club is run!

Once at the stadium it was brilliant to see so many fans all together again, the ‘Friday feeling’ really kicked in then and it was straight to the bar for some much-needed liquid therapy! Encountering some ‘I’ve talked to you before and I think we’re on the way to friends’ and having a good laugh at the madness of Friday fixtures was exactly what I needed at the end of a very stressful month – September was just hours from being over and I was so very thankful!

The game itself wasn’t much to write home about, I don’t really recall much of it to be honest, too busy enjoying the atmosphere of a proper ‘Sarries on Tour’ group! After the game was over there was a pretty standard ‘herding cats’ approach to trying to get people to the restaurant we had a table booked at! It all ended up being a bit strange and difficult for me though thanks to some mix ups at the restaurant and a nasty incident involving eggs being thrown at us afterwards while we were waiting for cabs back to hotels.

Well, I say hotels, I was in a hostel.

I’d gone with cheapness over quality and I paid the price! An awful night’s sleep in a full dormitory room above a club! Still, at least I was up and out early for breakfast in the morning. Luckily at breakfast I was offered a ticket for an earlier train home than the one I was booked on (advance tickets are a double-edged sword!) and I was able to be home before Saturday evening really rolled round. I’d pretty much already decided by that point that I was going to give the following weekend’s game a miss, as brilliant a fixture as Wasps at home was I knew I was starting to come down with something and that I would need the recovery time in order to do the things that I was prioritising – two major speaking commitments at Autism events the following week and then the Toulon weekend – all in all, missing the Wasps game to do those three things felt like a fair trade!


Game 5: Toulon (Stade Mayol) – ECC pools round 1
Ah Toulon! Une belle ville, un jeu fantastique, un merveilleux week-end!

Yes, the game I had been waiting for patiently for weeks had finally arrived; time for sun, wine and scrummaging on the French coast!!

An early morning flight out of Luton kicked off my weekend of European rugby (not my first ECC game thanks to winning tickets to the Sarries v Wasps semi-final last year in a Twitter competition!) Landing in Nice still very firmly in ‘morning’ I made my way to the train station where I had a first-class ticket to travel along the Cote d’Azur to Toulon!

Oh the views! I could talk for hours waxing lyrical on those views; how blue the sea was, how incredible the beaches and coastal landscape was, how huge the yachts were!

Eventually, have exhausted my imagination daydreaming about being rich enough to regularly holiday in Cannes or Saint-Tropez, I arrived in Toulon.

Well, I swear it was like being in Italy! It didn’t feel like France to me, this beautiful sun-drenched city with huge sweeping roads leading down to the port via open friendly squares filled with fountains and cheerful cafes. I’ve never felt so relaxed and at home in a city outside of England, this was like finding a little piece of the world that had been wrapped in a bubble, safe and untouched by the horrors of recent years, unblemished by the downward fortunes of the world. In essence, it was everything I needed it to be that weekend.

I had set off that morning mentally drained, a run of long hard weeks at work with a punishing amount of social activities and commitments had left me almost on empty. Just the 15-minute walk from my hotel to the stadium was enough to refuel my mental energy to maximum capacity!

I got to the stadium far too early for the game and so decided to wander around to search out the Toulon supporters bar, where I’d been told several Sarries fans would be gathering pre-game.

Well, it wasn’t hard to find them – I stepped around the side of the stadium and could suddenly hear Seven Nation Army blasting out from a stage across the road - a mass of people crowded around singing at the top of their lungs “ooooooooh Maro Itoje!” – I think I’d found the Sarries guys!!!!

What followed can only be described as a festival-atmosphere! There was food for sale next to this tiny bar that was selling more wine and beer than there is water in the ocean! The band on the stage were amazing, alternating between Toulon songs in French and our Sarries songs as we danced away in the sunshine. It was so much fun that when people realised it was time to head into the stadium for the match we were actually disappointed to have to leave!!!


But leave we did as there was a quite important match getting ready to start; one that we knew would set the tone for our whole European campaign. We had a point to prove after all as the reigning champions and we were starting off in Toulon’s fortress of a ground, somewhere they hadn’t *ever* lost a game in the European Championship!

It didn’t help that the last few times we’d met we’d come off worse; the losses in the finals and semi-finals still hurt but, hey, Toulon didn’t have the maestro Jonny Wilkinson in their set-up anymore and we had Faz back!!!!!
The game didn’t start brilliantly, well, no, that’s not true, the game itself started wonderfully for the boys but for me personally I could have cheerfully throttled whoever it was in the Toulon staff that decided to release a cascade of red and black balloons down the stands before kick-off!

Within minutes of the damn things becoming loose in the air people were stamping on them to pop them and within about 5 minutes I had the most horrific sensory migraine going! I had thought the bright sunshine might cause of build-up issue, I had planned for losing the game being a problem later emotionally but I had never considered the need to have to deal with dozens of bursting bits of latex everywhere!

The menaces were still floating around the stands and on to the pitch well into the second half of play, Faz stamped on one just a few metres in front of me and it was clearly displayed on his face how annoyed he was with them (although irritated does seem to be Owen’s default facial expression during matches!)


But the game, oh that game!!!!

Fortress Toulon was well and truly breached!! 6-25 at half time, we had 3 tries, 2 conversions and 2 penalties to their two penalties. DAMN!

The second half not quite as good for us, a run of play that ended with “the field littered with bodies” as the commentators put it! But all in all, we held out for long enough and got the 23-31 victory that saw the Toulon fans throwing their newspapers in the air in defeat – well, those that hadn’t already done so at half-time that is!

Post-match was a bit of a strange animal, we were fairly quickly herded out of the stadium, weaving between all the scaffolding and general building work that was about as part of the stadium seemed to be under construction or something! A return to the Toulon supporters bar then a seemingly mission impossible task of finding food followed; I’m not sure how long we waited in one restaurant that had a very big table booked by the Sarries supporters association before abandoning it for another place along the harbour front!

The next day dawned in a bright blur of hungover tiredness but there was a brilliant sense of camaraderie and happiness to every Sarries fan I encountered, having perched myself in an ice-cream bar on the harbour front that I’d found two friends sat at! I had to leave for the train back to Nice before the rumoured beach-side lunch plans came to fruition but it had been a fantastic weekend and I was glad in some respects to get some time back to myself to decompress and try to put my thoughts together ahead of work the next morning! Unfortunately, my plans for a simple trip home fell apart slightly at Nice airport when my flight was delayed 45 minutes but eventually I was back in my flat with a slight suntan, a suitcase full of alcohol smelling clothes and a heart full of passion and appreciation for my boys – bring on the rest of the tournament!!


Game 6: Scarlets (Allianz Park) – ECC pools round 2
Ah Allianz! It was my first game at home this season thanks to the LDH and two missed games but AP feels so familiar, so welcoming it was like I’d never been away – even though it was only my third time ever being there!!
The match was good fun, it was good to finally get to use my season ticket and see what the view was from my chosen seat! There was a tinge of sadness to the day given that we had a minute’s silence for Anthony Foley ahead of kick-off but once the game got going the Welsh fans were in fine voice!

Mako’s beautiful dummy for his try and Tompkins snaking dancing try were the highlights of the match for me but the real ‘taste’ of rugby came after when we were treated to a fine old sing song in the Olympic bar from the traveling fans!

Two from two in Europe, now back to the bread and butter Premiership for a few weeks before we lose some boys to England duty as the Autumn Internationals roll round!


Game 7: Leicester Tigers (Allianz Park)
The trip to Allianz for the Leicester match was always going to be a fun one for me, the last time I’d seen us play Tigers at home we’d beaten them to secure our spot in the Premiership final and lift our double!

I got to take my Mum and stepfather to this one, they’d wanted to come to a game with me at some point in the season and had decided on the Tigers game as my maternal grandfather hails from Fleckney, Leicestershire.

We drove down to Barnet in Mum’s car, parking in a nearby primary school that lets out its car park to Sarries for people to purchase as match-day parking, and well, the bliss of not having to deal with the train/tube/shuttle bus combo was brilliant!!

The match was good and my stepdad enjoyed it more than I thought he would initially, it was great to get to include my Mum in this challenge as she was the one who set it to me back in the summer and gave me my birthday money early to allow me to buy my season ticket and shirt!


Game 8: Sale Sharks (AJ Bell)
The memory that stand out most when thinking of my first trip to the AJ Bell is of the massive wince that accompanied paying for my train ticket! A £92.80 bill and that only got me to Manchester Piccadilly, there was still a tram to Eccles and a taxi to the ground to come after that!

Still, once I got there I was hopeful for a good match, although we had suffered our usual International Season squad reduction!
The game was, um, okay. Nothing special and unfortunately, I spent most of the day alone having missed people I know at various points of the journey through sheer bad luck and poor communication.

The photo I used for my scrapbook was a screengrab from the TV as I spent most of the match in a fairly miserable mood having been thoroughly irritated by the legion of kids in front of me who were constantly in and out of their seats disrupting my view as well as the very isolated feeling I had that wasn’t helped by bubbling politics relating to the two groups of Sarries fans.

I’m not going to go into any detail about the SSA vs SOT issues here as quite frankly I just want to stay out of it and not take sides, I’m on the side of the boys Brad captains, not getting involved in squabbles about flags and seats and who’s friends with who!


Game 9: Bath (The Recreation Ground)
Early starts weren’t exactly a new thing by this point in the season but a 5am alarm to get to Hemel Hempstead in time for the 7am Fun Bus departure was distinctly not fun!!

The trip West was long but not too boring thanks to good company and a general feeling of festive spirit! Arriving in Bath in plenty of time for a decent breakfast followed by a quick perusal of the “December 25th” shop meant I was in high spirits by the time we headed towards the Rec.

That didn’t last long!

I’ve never encountered gate staff so rude and condescending before! Having followed some of our group towards one of the entry gates and watched them go through I was then thoroughly perplexed to be turned away when my ticket was just one row in front of theirs! Apparently, my ticket could only enter the ground from the “William Street” entrance which involved going *back* up the narrow winding steps I’d just come down, across the bridge and down the other side before looping back to the ground.

I was a bit grumpy by the time I got my ticket scanned, although I had managed to find some friends at least.
Then it came to finding the seats.

Well, I’m not sure I could have chosen worse seats if I’d been paid to!

£36 to sit at the top of a high stand, with only 75% pitch visibility and at a behind/side angle to the only screen meaning that half the game I had no clue what was going on as I couldn’t see it! We also discovered very quickly that the Rec like to ‘create atmosphere’ by means of the sodding trumpet fanfare sounds randomly throughout the match! Joy!


Eventually the match from hell finished and we had to very quickly vacate the ground and haul ourselves across the town to the pub we had a set space reserved in to watch the England-Australia match! Well, it was supposed to be reserved for us. By the time most of our guys had arrived the few seats available had been taken by a bunch of youngsters who definitely hadn’t come from the ground (you could tell by the shopping bags!) This unfortunately meant that some of our group ended up abandoning the pub to return to the hotel our coach was due to pick us up from later to get somewhere to sit down and not being completely squashed.

I was just about coping thanks to how good the game was but even so I was getting rather riled with some of the pathetic conversations floating into my ears from the idiots next to me; a group of university students who seemed to be there as a reason to drink copious amounts of beer, spending half the match talking about their holidays/girls they’d slept with/essays they haven’t done and the other half making remarks that just proved they don’t know rugby at all – questioning ref decisions, not understanding the scrums and getting players names wrong - I’m not sure how anyone can mix up Mike Brown and Ben Youngs!!


Game 10: Sale Sharks (Allianz Park) – ECC pools round 3
A game that can be summed up in one word - wet!

I got so beyond soaked to the bone watching this game that I actually abandoned my seat with 10 minutes to go in the futile attempt to not catch a cold but it was all for naught in the end as I spent the next 3 weeks snuffling and feeling sorry for myself!

Still, a decent result with 6 tries run in to make it 50-3 by final whistle!!


Game 11: Sale Sharks (AJ Bell) – ECC pools round 4
Ah the AJ Bell again! This time I managed to snaffle myself a lift to Salford so got to save a bunch of money as well as having less travel time with better company!

The travelling Sarries support was a bit thin on the ground but it was a 5.30pm kick-off on a Sunday!!
Because the ground wasn’t as full as previously (even the Sale fans seemed to have stayed at home, avoiding the crisp December chill!) AJ and I were able to hang out down by the placards surrounding the pitch for quite a while, watching the warm-up and trying not to distract the ever friendly Schalk Brits who has a tendency to get distracted from his drills by saying hello to everyone!


The game wasn’t our best but a neat try from Faz was enough to remind people watching that we had our international boys back and present for duty!

The boys did the usual applauding of the crowd after the final whistle (well, what crowd was left!) and most of the Shark kids quickly surrounded Farrell in the standard way – he’s great with the opposition kids, knowing this is probably their only chance to meet him, I just wish he didn’t keep running away from us adults in Sarries shirts!!

But, despite our string-pullers bashfulness with the travelling fans a few of his team mates did make it our way, the ever brilliant Jamie George leading the way and being a superstar in holding our flag up for a photo – little did he realise the tradition he was starting!

Jinx also brought the towering hulk of man called Will Skelton along with him and after playing the crowd a bit George Kruis also came over to say hello and do photos/signings before getting summoned back towards the dressing room – I don’t think the coach wanted the drive home to be too late a departure!!


4 for 4 in Europe, our unbeaten run now at 13 - equally Munster’s record of successive victories in the European Cup!


Game 12: Newcastle Falcons (Allianz Park)
Christmas Eve came around with a flurry of tinsel, festive jumpers, and visiting Falcons!

Normally I would do anything possible to avoid London once the calendar turns to month 12 (too many years as a child living in London and too many times as an adult having to deal with overcrowded trains and the inability to move anywhere inside Zone 1!) however, this was important so off to NW4 did I trot, jingle bells and all!


I honestly don’t remember much of the game itself! Christmas Eve has long been my favourite day of the year (Shrove Tuesday a close second – as long as I can get to eat my Grandma’s pancakes!) and all I really recall of that match was the sheer joy of it!
Sitting outside wrapped up in a dozen or so layers, Sarries shirt proudly worn over the Christmas jumper during the game, having a ‘cheeky’ drink with friends made throughout the year and enjoying a game I truly love; that’s what made the day so special!

I celebrated that day, not only the team’s win but my own personal one: this game was game 12 (fitting as it took place on Christmas Eve!) and it was the first time I really let myself believe that I would achieve the goal I had set myself, the first time I really stopped and looked around, taking in all the year had brought me. It was our last game of 2016, our next to be played on January 1st 2017. The year had been one of trials and difficulties for me, but looking around the Olympic Bar after the game and seeing friendly faces that as little as 8 months ago I didn’t know, that to me was what this club and what Christmas is about – coming together because of things we have in common but still holding true to what makes us different from each other. And just being damn grateful of what we have!


Game 13: Leicester Tigers (Welford Road)
New Year’s Day arrived with the usual fanfare of bongs, fireworks and cheering – and then I went to bed! An early start was required to get up to Leicester for some lunch before the 3pm KO so any vague notions of NYE celebrations were quickly ditched (I was heartbroken, honest!) and 2016 passed into 2017 in front of my sober and contemplative eyes. It had been an odd year all things told, a lot of achievement but a lot of struggle as well. Maybe 2017, the year of my 30th, would prove better?!?

The trip up north was relatively painless, arriving in plenty of time for food and an easy stroll round the corner to the ground, the first stadium I've encountered/noticed to have a fully stocked bar! Gin and Tonics were the drink of the day for a few Sarries folks!

Leicester have always been a formidable opposition, we had no doubts that this was going to be a tough game even with all trouble Tigers were having in their boardroom. This match was a test of more than just rugby skills, it was a battle of wills and there were more than a few points to prove!

In the end points were quite thin on the ground by the final whistle, Faz being our man on the scoreboard with the only try, conversion and a couple of penalties to see off Burns’ efforts at the tee. The score was reflected in more than just table points however, as within 24 hours one of Leicester’s greats, coach Richard Cockerill had become the scapegoat for the club’s dismal run.

It’s never pretty when a club and coach part company but this felt particularly ‘football-like’ in the manner it was done, and that saddens me.
I hope Leicester can bounce back from this, they were the club I always heard about growing up, the colossus of a team who churned out superstars and legends. I hope to see them return to that soon, I’d love them to be our main rivals for top dog over the years to come!


On a side note, I understand why Owen Farrell goes to the kids all the time but as an adult who's spent a lot of hard-earned money, time and energy going to these games it's rather heartaching to see him again turn away from his adult fans.

Even a game like this one where I had a great time will have a cost to me in terms of my energy levels and 'social hangover' the following day, my autism fatigue is always worse after an away game because of both the additional journey time and the fact that new grounds take more energy and concentration to cope with - at Allianz I know where to go of I need help, with each new stadium I have to work out my exit route and emergency plans just in case.

So, I get why Owen only goes to the kids but I hope every now and again he recognises that his adult fans would like a chance to shake their hero's hand as well.


Game 14: Exeter Chiefs (Allianz Park)
A game of two passions is rugby - and this was definitely the case when the Chiefs came to Allianz!

The crowd from Devon bring a deep, loyal passion to their support, chanting that damn Tomahawk Chop as if the West Country depends on it! But we have a different sort of passion at Sarries. Ours is of an abiding love for our family, a passion that some accuse of being shallow or quiet.

Well, not that day.

We may have started out in small voice, our usual lungs and chords suffering in the January chill but then something happened to spark us off like a roaring mob - an injustice.

See, No one at that game that day nor watching it on tv will argue that the Barritt/Barrington tackle fiasco on Parling was bad. Few will argue that a card or two was deserved as the poor bloke got KO'd for his troubles. What is disputed is the manner of discipline handed out by the referee on the pitch.

Barritt hit Parling too high initially really, by the letter of the new laws he should have left the field for 10 minutes, more if a harsh ruling came down. Barrington was unlucky, he had committed before Parling was in motion and falling and so his knockout hit seemed so much worse than it was intended, especially when slowed down by the TMO.

We all knew a card was coming. We all knew Barritt was leaving the field and we all knew a penalty would be given.

I don't think anyone expect to see what happened.

The card that came out was Red but it was to Barrington it was shown!!

Allianz suddenly sounded more like the Ricoh as the crowd buzzed with a flurry of exchanges between seat neighbours and an angry vibe began to build as we realised what had happened and that poor Bazz (who was on his 100th cap game!) was off the field for the rest of the game and yet Brad (thankfully at this point) didn't receive any card for his part!

Still, this bizarre turn of events inspired and invigorated the Allianz crowd like never before and suddenly we knew we had to be the 15th man that Bazz could no longer be.

The game ended in a draw and my god it was a hard fought 2 points! I never thought I’d be happy with a draw before that final whistle came but after almost 70 minutes down a man I was pleased as punch with the result, even if a tad worried about the way Goodey seemed to be limping on one leg – just a turned ankle I hope! Will await the citing commissioners decisions with a tinge of anxiety however for both Bazz and Brad . . . .



Game 15: Scarlets (Parc y Scarlets) – ECC pools round 5
Croeso i Cymru! And what a welcome it was - the Welsh know how to put on a sing-song that’s for sure!

Arriving in Llanelli the day before the Sunday match meant there was plenty of time for a visit to the local and a chance to witness the very nature of Welsh rugby; passionate, strong, joyful and loud are the ways I would sum up the supporters I met that night! Their team means the world to them and they aren’t afraid to let the whole world know it, in fact, I’m surprised anyone in Wales has any hearing left after a rugby match involving a Welsh team!

It really was a lovely experience to be in a packed pub with songs being led by a beautiful choir-voice, even when I didn’t know the words half the time, and occasionally didn’t even understand the language it was being sung in! The only negative of the night really was the odd anxiety-induced issues around just how crowded the bar was but overall it wasn’t enough to ruin my night thankfully.

The next day’s game did threaten to ruin my weekend however!

I’ve been to a fair few grounds now but I can honestly say I found Parc Y Scarlets to be one of the most difficult and distressing of places! The ‘barn’ that was open for fans before the game was auditorily horrific, with a screechy singer near the door with speakers on far too high and a series of stalls selling all sorts of food and drink items but for cash only! Now I understand the need for cash only at times but for gods sakes tell people *before* they come through the security check that that’s the case if you don’t have a cashpoint anywhere!

Anywho, that wasn’t the worst of it. I quickly abandoned the barn-thing after the noise became too much and I ran into a few Sarries fans I don’t get on with (we may be a family but that doesn’t mean everyone has to like each other!) and headed for the ticket turnstiles.

Well, I have never before experienced a full-blown panic attack just from going through a turnstile. The ones at this stadium where so narrow, so tight I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my backpack got caught in the turnstile as there where so many ‘spokes’ I couldn’t pass it underneath before me like I normally would and I ended up on the other side gasping for breath with my vision tunnelling rapidly.

Luckily I managed to pick the turnstile that had a member of security posted to it with a decent understanding of both autism and panic attacks and she got me calmed down enough to continue on to my seat with plenty of time still before KO.
The sign inside the stadium did perk me however as its the first time I've ever seen such a warning, and I did appreciate it.

The game itself was again stressful, a tight draw full of frustrating moments that left a sense of unease in my stomach as I thought ahead to the next fixture against European giants Toulon . . .  

Side note - Schalk Brits is hands down the friendliest, smiliest, nicest bloke anyone could ever meet!! An absolute legend who is nearly always the last person still on the pitch after the whistle as he spends so long with the fans! I must admit I nearly broke my ankle leaping over seats to get down to pitch side with the flag for these photos - he was a bit bemused at first but I had tweeted him a few times requesting a flag photo (which he had responded positively to) so I think he worked it out in the end!!



Game 16: Toulon (Allianz Park) – ECC pools round 6
Ah, Toulon! The game I had been looking forward to since our epic clash back in October, the visit of the French giants to our humble home! And even better, they’d brought the fantastic Nigel Owens with them!

I was massively excited for this game, I’ve been a huge fan of Nigel as a referee for years now, loving the way he mixes quick wit with a determination to have the best game possible, balancing the need for sanctions against infringements with keeping the game flowing and not blowing the whistle every few seconds. In fact, my appreciation for him is so great I wrote a blog post about him and tweeted about – my notifications went a bit bonkers after that and the post itself has been read over 3000 times!

Back to the match in hand, the game itself was great fun, getting to watch class players like Habana, Giteau, Nonu and Bastareaud was brilliant, as was watching Ashy cross the whitewash against the team he’s joining come June!! So to was watching all the furrowed brows as half-drunk fans attempted to work out all the maths required to see who was getting home Quarter Finals come April! Our luck was half in, we got the home QF and a game to look forward to in Glasgow Warriors but were incapable of landing a home Semi Final due to ranking 3rd from the pool games – who ever would end up facing in the SF, it would be away from home, either in Ireland against Munster or in France against Toulouse!

But enough of the forward planning, there was a long time and a lot of rugby before even the QF game rolled around, and the stage was being set for one hell of a Six Nations period!



Game 17: Gloucester (Kingsholm)
I missed the trip to Sixways to see us play Worcester thanks to a bout of illness but the trip to Kingsholm was one I was determined to make! Luckily (for once) it was a Friday evening match as the weekend was a rather busy one for me, what with my 30th birthday celebration part 1 being held on the Sunday!

I must admit, I fairly fell in love with Gloucester’s stadium; not only is it a brilliant ground, with the passion of ‘The Shed’ being everything that was promised, but it was a simple walk away from the station and one of the friendliest stadiums I’ve known for ticket entry and general layout!

Slightly bemusing was the fact that our boys ran out in their black home tops with the white away shorts with Gloucester playing in their home red and white stripes with red shorts . . . . it was confusing to say the least! A game that started well for us with a Brits try all went horribly wrong towards the end and we came away with a loss to our name for the second week in a row!

The only real positive to take from the defeat was that Mako Vunipola was back in a Sarries shirt, not that he was in a positive kind of mood after the game when he wandered over to talk to his Dad! Although, the superstar that he is, he did answer my pleading request for a photo with our SOT flag before disappearing off to the changing rooms. His Dad was lovely and chatty though, explaining that his boys just “aren’t used to not winning”! Well sir, thanks to both of them neither are we!! Hopefully things will get back on track next week!


Saracens Takeover Nandos!!! (St Albans)
Not a game but it did happen on the day of my 30th birthday so counts as my birthday celebration part 2 and I did as a result get a superb hug from the effervescent Schalk Brits and have Richard Barrington, Jared Saunders and Chris Ashton leading the whole of Nandos in singing happy birthday to me!!!




Game 18: Sale Sharks (Allianz Park)
So this is what it’s like being thirty huh? Spending my Saturday at Allianz Park – not much different to being 29 then!!

A decent game that saw our boys take an early lead through Taylor and Ashy tries before a lovely Nathan Earle mini splash finished the game off – bonus point next time please boys?!

Anyway, time to get myself off to my birthday celebrations part 3!!!


Game 19: England vs Italy (Twickenham)
Sunday arrived with a hangover and a desperate need for water! But even the lingering effects of too much wine drunken and 2am pizza could not put a dampener on my day, not when I was about to head to HQ for my first ever Six Nations game!!!!!!

England vs Italy was to be my birthday celebration part 4 and the first (early) celebration of my Dad’s 60th birthday in the summer; a memory we could share for years to come and it really was.

I thought it was something special to come to Twickenham for the Premiership final last year but my god it didn’t hold a candle to what it’s like when the 6N festivities come to town! The carnival spirit encompasses you from the moment you step out of the station, it’s like walking into a festival arena and yet you’re still over half a mile away!

I’ve always felt a strong affinity to Twickenham, knowing that my parents met in the area whilst both at university in St Mary’s, but that day, with my dad’s arm around my shoulder we strolled down Whitton Road waiting for that beautiful stadium to come into view, surrounded by hundreds of England and Italy fans, I felt truly at home.

I didn’t chose the Italy game to go to for any reason other than the fact that it was the only home game on a Sunday (my Dad works Saturdays) but I do think that of the 5 options the Azzurri game was the best choice for me; a team who’s supporters as brilliantly passionate, loud and cheerful and filled with that wonderful Italian excitement and yet none of the lingering, under the surface issues that arise from the other 4 nations – the nations that happily state they would lose to “anyone but England”. This wasn’t a game of fierce rivalry like England v Scotland is, it wasn’t one where ancient history is brought up to stir up intense emotions like England v Ireland is, it was one of mutual admiration for the “thug’s game played by gentlemen”


It was also, supposed to be the least stressful of the games! With no offense ever meant to the Italians, they were never our main worry when considering our defence of the title, never the game we thought would be tight or difficult.

Oh boy

To call rugby a game of two halves is normally a trite cliché but on that occasion, it really, truly was!

The first half was one of confusion and chaos as England struggled to work out what the hell the boys in blue were up to! No rucks forming to create off-side lines meant poor old Danny Care was left without his channels available to him and thoroughly perplexed as to why the opposition were in his way!

Eventually Dyl and Hask had a word with the ref about the situation, now obviously Connor O’Shea had told Romain Poite about their plans before the game but his come back to their queries was hilariously frustrating – “I’m a referee not your coach”

Luckily by the second half the boys had sorted out what was going on and how to work around it and got back to the job in hand, eventually resulting in a 6 tries to 2 victory over the Azzurri, even if Faz had a bit of a mare from the tee on his 50th international cap game!

Well, that’s a 6N game ticked off the bucket list – it’ll be a while before I can mark off the one labelled “Watch England play a World Cup final” though!!!!



Game 20: Newcastle (Kingston Park)
This was a bit of an odd game for me because, while I was excited to be heading north to Kingston Park, I had originally been expecting this game to be played in New York . . .

Thing is, back in July when Saracens had done their last Nandos Takeover event the lads in the last sitting had answered my question of "what game are you most looking forward to next season" with a resounding "New York!" - further investigation on my part had led to me being told by multiple people that this was to be the Newcastle game in March so I gambled and used the money I'd been given early for my 30th birthday to go towards this challenge to book flights to NYC! Only, the official announcement never appeared! So, when the new year rolled around and the date of the fixture was confirmed with the venue as Kingston Park I had to make a decision about what to do, I ended up paying to change the flights to ones to LA in the June half-term instead, have myself a holiday once the season was over, but it still left me feeling a little gutted about the Newcastle game as having a USA trip less than 2 weeks after my birthday would have been pretty cool!

But anyway, the game was in Newcastle so off up the country I set, managing to find myself in the same "quiet" train carriage as a motley SOT crew wen I joined their train at Peterborough! Beers, wine, sweets and chatter all flowed merrily as we wound our way up the edge of the UK, only stopping once we pulled in to the Toon and I parted ways from the merry band of brothers, setting off for my hotel and the swimming pool it had!

A few hours and a gallon of conditioner later, I was de-chlorinated and ready to join said motley crew for a night out on the Toon town! Only, most of the buggers had buggered off by the time I got there! So much for an epic night out! Still, a couple of glasses later and who cares that there’s only a few of you left and that you’re seriously considering a foot-long subway and an Uber back to the hotel and it’s not even 11pm!


Sunday games are properly rubbish though for the simple reason that you can’t enjoy them anywhere near as much when you know you’ve got work the next day – particularly when you’ve got a 4-hour train journey ahead of you!

But there is one thing guaranteed to perk up even the grumpiest of Sarries fan . . . . .

Number 8 - BILLY VUNIPOLA!!!!!!


Wooooohoooooo! Billy’s back!!!!!!!

Having not seen our Nandos-loving herculean Number 8 play since late November when he was forced into surgery by the Argentina game it was a tonic and a balm to see him back in our colours again and raring to go!

The game was brilliant, a bonus point in the bag and Billy did 72 minutes on the pitch so it looks hopeful for the tail end of the 6Ns!

The end of the game is not the end of the story however, the nonsense politics between the supporters groups was bubbling over for me and it all got too much after some social media exchanges. My meltdown wasn’t one of epic proportions, more of an inward implosion of pain and hurt. I seriously debated in that moment walking away from everything Saracens related and just washing my hands of the whole situation.

As it turns out, not making a choice about which group to join in the bar meant I was outside to see the guys kill some time before their coach left for the airport and a few words from Schalk Brits and Mako Vunipola were enough to remind me that the reason I do this is more important that some silly spats between people who should know better. Getting to have a selfie with Billy and then one with Brad (all bandaged up and possibly still concussed, sorry Brad!) was the icing on the cake in making the trip worthwhile. As was the news that Mako and Billy were heading straight to Pennyhill Park once back in London so our two brothers were going to be pulling on that rose shirt again come next weekend!!!



Game 21: Bath (Allianz Park)
Back to an Allianz that was in the process of being enlarged for our ECC Quarter Final the following week, and this time all our boys were back safe and sound from international duty! As indeed were Bath’s England lads, and so a cracking game it was forecast to be!

I must admit of all the teams in the Premiership Bath frustrate me the most to watch; they have such brilliant talent in Joseph, Watson, Ford, Rokoduguni and yet seem to not produce the goods in the premiership season.


As was the case really in this game, one we came away the clear victors from with a 53-10 score line – 8 tries claimed by Sarries to just one paltry cross from Watson.

It was almost uncomfortable to watch at times, so far in front were we. Although watching the boys get to claim scores was brilliant; Jamie, Goodey, Sean, Schalla, Brad and Billy all deserved theirs and did Ashy with his brace. A good time to get back into the serious scoring groove as its back to European action next weekend when Glasgow Warriors come to town . . . . .


Game 22: Glasgow Warriors (Allianz Park) – ECC Quarter Final
My Dad accompanied me to this game, and what a game it was!

Of course, one of the best moments of the match itself passed me by at the time but thanks to the joy of TV I got to relieve the whole game, including the brilliant moment that Faz told Ashy to “get back on your wing man!” as he tried to stop him from airing a grievance with the ref! Our Ashy is a brilliant player but not often the guy you want chatting to the ref, and Faz knew exactly how to handle that before it became a situation!


At 4 tries to 2 the score makes it seem an easier victory than it was, Glasgow fought hard and their spectators were incredible, Warriors indeed! The army of fans they had brought with them were brilliant, outcheering us whenever possible – although I still hold a dark hatred for the bastards with the bagpipes in the South stand!!!

A brilliant day in the sunshine with a fantastic match to watch followed by ice-cream and frantic plans being made for a trip to Dublin – who could ask for more?!?!


Game 23: Harlequins (Wembley)
The showcase piece in the Premiership calendar, the annual trip to Wembley to play Quins was the game I had asked my friends to join me at as my final birthday celebration! And to my genuine surprise six of the seven did, the only one not able to come had a fairly good excuse as she's went out to Australia for a year just after the season started in September!

The day arrived with the usual chaos of our crew doing anything remotely planned; with us all arriving from different areas of the country it takes a while for the various journeys to be completed! In the end we were all together and getting lunch before the game, we were even joined by a Skype call from Sydney!!


It was a brilliant day in the sun again, ice creams bought as we walked down Wembley Way and ciders bought once inside! I was so happy I'd bought the seats I did way back in October, down on the lowest level a dozen rows back from the pitch, close to the 22m line.

Getting to point out the England stars on both sides to my friends was good fun, particularly noting how many there were to my Scottish friend! The scoreline at the end was pretty nice too with a comprehensive bonus point win over our derby rivals!



Game 24: Northampton Saints (Stadium MK)
A trip to Milton Keynes was in the cards for our away fixture to Northampton Saints. This makes Franklin's Gardens the only Premiership ground I've not been to now which is a bit disappointing.

The game was on Easter Sunday which was a bit of a pain to those of us who like to spend Easter with our families but for the sake of my challenge I chose to forego my usual trip home for this year!


The game didn't start well and continued in that from for a while really. Our squad is strong but being forced to rest Maro and Owen as a consequence of them playing all 5 6N games was tough on the boys who'd already done 7 weeks of cover while the tournament happened.

But manage they did, even if it took a huge bench effort to get the game back on track!

And what a difference the bench made!

From a game that had started with us conceding a try and a yellow card in the first 20 minutes we managed to win by just 2 points - scored in the last 3!!

For Loz to hold his nerve to convert Celo's try, having only minutes before slotted the penalty that took us to 5 points behind, was incredible to watch!

As too was witnessing Billy Vunipola revving up the crowd when he needed an outlet for his frustration before the ref's rebuke became more serious!

The last 10 minutes of the match were so genuinely heart in the throat I thought I was going to be in real trouble by the end of it! Never before have I been so on-the-edge, so literally screaming for my boys, so utterly jubilant when the score came! I'm pretty sure I had a beer shower when Bosch crossed the tryline, I'm almost certain what was left of my drink got knocked over when Loz nailed the conversion and I know for a fact I gave myself a sensory overload headache from my own screaming by the end of the match but damn was it worth it!!!!!!

The boys seemed pretty happy to see us all when they came round afterwards and it felt brilliant to say "see you in Dublin" to them all!! Bring on the Irish!!!



Game 25: Munster (Aviva Stadium, Dublin) – ECC Semi Final
"We know who we are, we know who we are, Champions of Europe, we know who we are!!"

It was one hell of an early start the day of our European Semi Final - a 4am taxi pick up to get me to Luton airport for the earliest flight possible to Dublin! And who should I encounter while wandering the gate areas but Sarries fans! Everywhere I looked were smattering of red and black, all waiting for the Ryanair flight we all rushed to book as soon as we knew Munster had beaten Toulouse!

It was nice actually getting to spend the pre-boarding time with people I know for once, I've gotten so used to doing things on my own that just having company is a simple pleasure to be appreciated.

Once landed there was the usual choice Brexit jokes about passports and visas with Simmo leading the way in making everyone laugh despite the still early hour!


The guys got their taxi to drop me at my hotel near the airport before they headed off to theirs in town, I wanted to drop my bag off and do as much of the check in paperwork as I could at that point as the next time I would be back in the hotel would be post game so with a high chance of drunkenness!

Using the lobby ladies to change my glasses for my contacts I wasn't paying much attention to the background music until a certain tune started . . . .

When you're in Dublin, waiting for Saracens to take on Munster in an epic battle of giants there aren't many things that can happen to give you a huge boost of optimism but one of them is hearing the White Stripes "Seven Nation Army" come pounding through the speakers!!!

"Oooooooh Maro Itoje"

Bring. It. On!!!!

So, to the Aviva Stadium I go, well, via the pub anyway!!

It was incredible to see so many Sarries fans in one place waiting for our team to put the Irish in their place!

The pubs crowd grew and grew but I was lucky,  I'd found a corner early and gotten myself tucked away but with friends. I was doing okay to, enjoying myself even, until the Irish folk music started that is!

I managed about half an hour of flutes and pipes and an giant inflatable rugby ball being thrown around and hitting my head twice as I walked back from the ladies before I called it quits and said I needed to leave.

Easier said than done! I had to ask a friend to help 'extract' me from the pub before it really did overwhelm me to the point of a full blown panic attack. Once outside I could breathe easier but I was then alone, surrounded by Munster fans, stumbling along in the same direction hoping they were leading me to the stadium.

I was going in the right direction thankfully but the Munster fans I was vaguely following were obviously sat in a different section to my ticket as they went straight in the first gate I came across where as I was firmly told that 'Red Route' was up the road and on the right.

Well, strictly speaking that was true but given that it took me bloody ages to get there as I was walking over half a mile round the perimeter of the bloody stadium!

All in all it wasn't the best of starts to what I knew was going to be a tough semi final; we may not have been at Munster's home ground in Cork but just by virtue of being in Ireland we were vastly out numbered as travelling fans! Of course it was hard to tell really as a lot of our fans had worn our away kit that was pretty much the same red colour as Munster's home kit! Even the flags the club had sent were our red ones!!


Still, even though we were out-numbered, out-voiced and out-red flagged we valiantly carried on in our efforts to cheer our boys on, especially when Faz the 3rd escorted Brad out onto the pitch - Daddy Faz Snr obviously having asked his Irish team colleagues nicely if his youngest could mascot for his eldest's team at his new place of work!!

Oh, what a game!!!

To be in the stadium that has been the place of such heartbreak for English sides before (not least the recent 6N defeat that denied England back-to-back Grand Slams) and to produce such an epic performance was brilliant! We never gave up, we never stopped believing that we could do it - even when Kruis took out his frustrations on the whitewash after dropping a beauty of a try in the 52nd minute!!

Both Vunipola's were showing off fancy footwork skills, with Mako chipping through a kick for Ashy to chase and Billy seeming to toy with the idea of box kicking! Luckily they left the tee work to the ever solid boot of Farrell who kept the scoreboard ticking over in our favour before half-time. The second half brought tries from Mako and Chris Wyles as well as more from the tee from Faz, who's excitement at the scoreline was evident after he nailed a 75th minute penalty to make it 3-26!

We did concede a shunt over from Stander in the dying seconds to make it 10-26 at the whistle but by then none of us really cared - we were going to Edinburgh!!!!!

Side note - getting to watch Marcelo Bosch randomly jump on Owen Farrell's back whilst they were walking round the pitch was brilliant! The obvious affection amongst team mates at Sarries is part of what makes our club so special!

The celebrations in the stand were full of flag waving, cheering and rapid fire discussions about the final and which bar we were going to from the stadium - we all quite fancied a drink or two! As an aside a huge thank you to the two Steve's who sorted out my ticket for me - I would have been lost without you guys!

Eventually we started to head for the exit, intent in celebrating the night way by indulging in some of Ireland's finest exports - Guinness and Whiskey!

Before we left though the big cheese himself Nigel Wray came to join our pitch-side celebrations and express his thanks to us all for travelling so far at such short notice!

We didn't mind really, it had all been worth it in the end, even with all the stress of trying to book hotels and flights when the companies seemed hell bent on sky rocketing the prices!

I was lucky to get the flights I wanted and not pay over the barrel for my hotel room, choosing to go with a known chain that was further out of the city over unknown quantities for cheaper prices closer by!

The celebrations continued for quite some time after we exited the stadium, via a tradition 'with the police' photo shoot!!

The party atmosphere was brilliantly loud, chaotic and full of joy, a celebration I felt totally at home in and one that I knew would live long in my memory - we know who we are!!


Edinburgh may await but first we needed to finish our weekend in Dublin and then head home to wrap up the Premiership and see where we would be playing the play off semi-final!
This photo sums up the whole weekend quite well in my opinion!


Game 26: Bristol (Allianz Park)
I took my stepmum and sister to the last home game of the season as I knew they would both love the spectacle of the occasion, as well as it being one of the first times my sister was able to coincide a weekend away from work and a home game since the LDH back in September! (The curse of working for the NHS as a student midwife!)

We had a great time wandering around before KO, with both trophies on display (still current holders of both at this point!) and bumping into Will Fraser - who I introduced to my sister as "Henry's brother" (oops!) Will took it well though and asked us if we'd met Henry, my stepmum and I had been to his exhibition last summer and all of us had bought several of his things over the year, most recently buying one of his prints and the 'Lion' t-shirt for my Dad's 60th birthday gifts.


It was so much fun to watch such an enjoyable game in the sunshine, especially knowing that there were so many occasions attached to this game! Not only was it Schalk Brits 150th and Owen's 100th appearance in Sarries shirts but it was also the retirement game for the giants of Kelly Brown and Neil de Kock, along with potentially the last home appearances for Chris Ashton and Petrus Du Plessis!

No wonder the introductions/lead outs took so long!

I'm not sure how many kids were on the pitch before kick off with the Brits, Brown and de Kock broods all running about the place but it was certainly a heartwarming sight to be reminded of just what a family-centred club Sarries are.

The match was almost exactly as I expected, with Bristol giving a feisty performance, even though they knew they were already relegated, doing enough to be leading at half-time on penalty scores, with Sarries giving an underperforming show but still producing enough goods for a decent scoreline by the final whistle.

Ashy got his last home points, even if it wasn't a full on Splashdown with Tompkins picking up his first Premiership score and the Borislav got his maiden *and* second try after 155 games for Sarries!!

Soon the game was over and it was time for the tears and the singing as the guys took to the field with families en masse to celebrate the end of two illustrious careers, the beautiful voice of Kelly Brown belting out Bon Jovi is a memory that will stay with me for a long time!!

As is always the case with the last home game of the normal season the pitch was soon turned into a bizarre roped off square that we lined the edges of, waiting for the players to re-emerge from the changing rooms ready to sign and selfie!

Owen was one of the first out (not surprising as he had to rush off fairly quickly to get over to the O2 to watch the boxing that evening!) and was immediately bombarded - the poor bloke looked incredibly overwhelmed at one point and I did get quite empathetic with the way he must feel at times. As much as I would love a photo with him one day or the chance to have a brief chat I understand why he has to limit himself and to reject adults causes less PR stress than to ignore children so, I do get it.

The others ambled their way out slowly, Billy with a mouthful of something! I did ask him if it was Burger King or Nandos (harking back to his post Munster interview!) which made him laugh! The guys were absolutely brilliant with the whole thing, accepting anything handed to them to sign!


The only time I got both angry and panicky was when Maro came our way, suddenly what had been quite a nice calm area of the tape (that had chilled a lot since a group of kids had left with their team coach!) suddenly became a heaving crush as people ran in from other areas shoving us out of the way to get to Itoje. Having started out right near the tape with only a tiny kid in front of me I was suddenly 6 people back (the tape had more forward, not me!) with deep aches in my ribs from elbows flying! It was manic and horrible and I wished for that moment that I wasn't there. My stepmum did have a word with a couple of the worst offenders who offered up a limp "well we missed him round where we were" before just disappearing off into the crowd with no care for the injuries they'd caused! Luckily nothing really bruised and I got my spiking anxiety back under control fairly quickly thanks to my family and the lovely Pioneer I'd been chatting to the whole time.

I have to give a huge thank you here not only to that amazing Pioneer but also to the security guy on our section of the tape and another Pioneer further down; all three of whom were brilliant in getting my sister's programme into the guys hands to sign and getting Ashy, Loz and Billy to do photos with us two - I wish I knew their names and could find them one day to buy them a pint of Wolfpack as a thank you!
Having managed to get the photo with Billy finally and having got Mr Brits to sign my scrapbook next to my picture of him and me outside Nandos on my birthday (he complained about my "smiliest man in rugby" caption telling me it should say "sexiest"!) we then wandered off towards the Wolfpack bus where we encountered Al Hargreaves, Brad Barritt, Michael Rhodes and Will Fraser again!

All in all a good day really!

Game 27: Wasps (Ricoh)
To be honest, the trip to the Ricoh was never likely to be fun but this one was particularly not pleasant as a Sarries fan!
The silver lining on the whole day was the fact that I got to see my Uncle and Aunt who are both Wasps fans, even sitting with my Aunt as I had bought an extra ticket for the game just in case my Uncle couldn't get his sorted through the Wasps box office (he did so he used the 'spare' I had for my Aunt and her ticket for a friend of theirs).
The stadium isn't exactly disability friendly in many ways, not least the huge uphill walk from the car parks to the stadium itself - I'm pretty sure my wonky hips got even more dodgy during that walk as well as my breathing struggling a fair bit as I was still recovering from a nasty bout of sinusitis!!

Still, I endured to get to the Ricoh and made it through security and into the stadium. Deciding to forgo the queue for drinks as KO was only 10 minutes away and I can judge queue times pretty well now, we headed straight for our seats . . . up . . . and up . . . . and up we went!! I needed a bloody drink by the time I got sat down!!

Settling in it was interesting to look around and see the layout of the Ricoh for the first time, it seems like a brilliant stadium - if its your home ground! As an away supporter it was slightly intimidating, particularly when the tannoy got going with the buzzing Wasps sound - not good when I've got a very high level of fear of the damn pests!!

The main problem wasn't the stadium itself though but the management of it, the fact that with just minutes to go to KO time and announcement came over the speakers that KO was to be delayed by 15 minutes to allow for "the huge numbers of fans still outside to get in to their seats"!! Now I understand the need for this for safety reasons, no-one wants a crush as people queuing to get in hear the match start but bear in mind that this was the final day of Premiership rounds and every game was due to kick off at 3pm for synchronicity!!

So, we waited. Sarries came back out to do some more drills to stay warm as we waited for these 'huge numbers' to fill their seats.

Well, I swear the stands didn't change one iota. If there were people still outside at 2.55pm then they must have only got as far as the bars by 3.15pm when we kicked off because the empty seats I was looking at stayed empty! The cynic in me says it was probably some of the corporate lot who demanded KO was held until they got in and to their boxes . . . .

Regardless, the match was underway and the worries I'd had on seeing our team sheet were amplified within minutes. This wasn't going to be a game we won. We were going to end up 3rd in the table, it all came down to whether our semi-final was at Sandy Park or back at the Ricoh . . . .

Truthfully, as soon as I realised that I decided that I wanted Wasps to top the table so we played Exeter (1st play 4th and 2nd play 3rd in the play-off semi finals) as I did not want to come back to Coventry again!

The Allez! Allez! Allez! Wasps! Wasps! Wasps! chant was bloody irritating and got stuck in my head for a long long time, particularly when coupled with the buzzing and music at scores.
I missed our first try from Spencer as I'd decided I needed a break and had headed to one of the bars - typical timing! But it did give me a chance to scope out the layout of the internal part to the stadium, it was rather confusing with the entry/exit open 'wall gaps' to the gents/ladies and I wasn't the only one to get turned around inside and get confused as to which walkway to the seats I needed to use!

Ducking out just before half-time for the ladies isn't something I normally do, but again I was getting a bit of the 'restless leg' and needed to try to jump the main rush as I could tell I wasn't at my usual level of coping ability!

Back to my seat with some chips for my vegetarian Aunt (poor veggies really struggle at most rugby games as its all about pies and meat at most stadiums!) and a pie for myself along with a fruity cider to keep me going!

The second half proceeded in much the same way as the first, I was keeping one eye on the Exeter score and as soon as they scored their damned 4th try to claim another bonus point (I really dislike the try bonus point concept!) then I was silently rooting for Wasps to get their 4th if we couldn't beat them in order to preserve the order in the table!

And score it they did, the final tally being 5 tries to our brace from Spencer, a dismal display really from our boys but as McCall put it, it was the only game we could afford to lose and still retain both trophies!

Some of the Wasps fans were a bit nasty after the final whistle, jeering and 'fronting up' to Sarries fans. I avoided the worst of it I think but I know a few friends had some horrible experiences that afternoon, although the most common come back from those of us in red and black was "what are you doing next weekend?!" - a sarky question given that we were one of only 4 teams playing the following weekend along with ASM Clermont Auvergne and the Challenge Cup contenders Gloucester and Stade Francais!

Several of my fellow fans raced for the transport links after the game to get to Allianz Park for the annual 'Big Bash' but I had decided in advance of the weekend not to bother trying to do that again after last year!

The stress of trying to get back from Worcester to AzP last season (a 3hr train journey) left me in a highly agitated state, so when I got back only to discover that there was about 30 minutes left of the event before it was over I'd gotten fairly upset, meaning the subsequent fireworks sent me straight into meltdown! Luckily the staff at AzP are bloody awesome and really looked after me when I appeared at the bar requesting the strongest alcohol they had (wine before they remembered they had vodka) and downed it immediately requesting more wine! Both the bar staff and the security guys were absolute stars looking after me that night once I explained what was happening and why I was using the emergency crutch of alcohol to keep a stranglehold on what was left of my coping ability as I was teetering on the edge of a full blown catastrophic reaction by then!

So, not exactly an experience I wanted to repeat, no matter how brilliantly helpful people were that night - I still wish I'd caught the name of the lady who bartered with a taxi driver to get me all the way home for £60 (nearly 30 miles up the A1 at gone 1am!)

The only mistake I made during the weekend in Coventry was to bring a huge psychology book with me as part of my revision for my MA exams taking place a few days after the match. The textbook was useful during the study session I had in my hotel room on Saturday night but jeez did it nearly destroy my left elbow when I had to drag my super heavy tiny suitcase along behind me the next day to the train station!

At least my exams would be done with by the time I set off on the journey to Edinburgh!



Game 28: ASM Clermont-Auvergne (BT Murrayfield, Edinburgh) – ECC Final
The long and winding road to Edinburgh started with a very short hop train to Stevenage station where I encountered some very familiar faces - the White Hat now recognisable from quite a distance!

The excitement on the platform at Stevenage was palpable as we waited impatiently for the train to Scotland! So many fans were there, suitcases at the ready, shirts proudly on and red & black flags sticking out everywhere!

Arriving in the city a few hours later was an experience like no other; Edinburgh Waverley was awash with rugby fans of all shapes and sizes, with French voices ringing strongly across the concourse interspersed with Irish lilts and the native Scottish burrs!

Navigating out of the station and across to the pub that fans were congregating in was likely meeting an old familiar friend; I've been to Edinburgh a few times now and traversed the main city centre by foot a fair bit, wandering the streets and shortcuts to various locations. Finding myself back on the same paths I'd been on in September when I was in the city for the Autism-Europe Congress (the reason I missed the first AzP game of the season!) was a comfort on a day that was already giving me hyperactive butterflies! On arrival at the pub it was a sea of passion and excitement from both black & red and blue & yellow camps, an infectious joy in the air!

I didn't end up staying long as rain was making fleeting appearances and I still needed to drop my case off in my room before heading to Murrayfield for the team welcome, so it was time for a quick Uber ride across town to the place I'd booked back the previous summer.

Well, it didn't take me long to grasp the error I had made.

When I booked the place I hadn't fully comprehended the level of basicness, nor had the pictures given a realistic portrayal of the place in my view - the virtual building site I encountered on stepping out of the cab was enough to bring out my apprehension, the sight on entering my room upgraded it to full blown 'oh shit' status.

I've stayed in many different places over the years; lots of shared houses at university, sleeping on sofas and airbeds, hostels and B&Bs, boat cabins and tents, the whole range of luxury to basic accommodation. This room however really took my breath away with its simplicity and not in a good way!

A bed, a bedside table with lamp, some towels, a mirror on the wall, a bin, a row of hooks on the wall.

And that was it.

A shared bathroom and a Kitchen-cum-Communal area down the corridor to provide all the 'necessities' completed the package.

There have been a few times during this challenge that I wished I could have afforded more; hotels closer to where I needed to be, non-advanced booked train tickets etc, but this was really the one weekend where I nearly cried at what I had done to myself!

The trouble is, when you're like me and barely making enough salary a month to pay the rent and bills, its really hard to justify spending huge amounts on hotel rooms. In hindsight however, I should have known that this would be a weekend not to skimp on as it always carried a high risk potential for emotional backlash at some point, win or lose!

Deciding that ultimately it was just someone to sleep that night and I would deal with it later, I freshened up and headed off on the short walk to the ground - and I really do mean a short walk, about 10 minutes at my pace - the slowest in Britain according to one family member!

BT Murrayfield is quite impressive from the outside but I wasn't overly impressed by the 'festival' that was outside, it was all rather subdued when I got there as I think most of the spectators where still in the city's drinking establishments!

I did quickly bump into my Sarries family however, and having had a good old laugh at some of Adam's most recent 'special moments' we got ourselves set up for the team bus welcome.

I thought we'd got a fantastic spot right at the barriers facing where the team would walk up and into the door - we even got a test run with booted and hobbling Sean Maitland - only to watch the poor bugger get turned away from the door and forced to go around the side to another entrance! And he's Scottish!!!

A shortwhile later the team bus did arrive, proceeded (of course) by a battalion of sodding bagpipers!!
The team were cheered, I was nearly strangled by the black and red ribbon they fired out of a cannon somewhere as it got whipped up by the wind and tangled round my neck, and Adam got some great photos from his position up on the staircase!

We abandoned our place after the boys had gone in - the coach was headed for us trying to get out after all! Another, smaller, bus arrived not long after which confused us until we heard the cheers of "Nigel!" - the referees had arrived and one Nigel Owens was getting the hero's welcome he deserves!

A lot of wandering around later, picking up programmes and ref links and finding various Sarries fans and it was starting to get towards time to head in to watch the warm ups. The strange thing about Murrayfield is that all the bars and stalls are outside around the perimeter, there is nothing but toilets inside the main structure! So, having discovered this I headed for the bar nearest my area of the stadium and bought myself a bottle of wine.

Yes, a bottle!

Not one of the tiny ones that is normally available at rugby grounds but a full size plastic bottle of white wine! The only problem now was that the bar was cash only (as was the entire ground from what I gleaned, not that anyone had said before hand as warning!) and I was pretty much down to silver coins at this point, so I had to try to find a cashpoint.

Well, there was only one place to get cash out once you'd gone through the ticket barriers, a 'Cash Van' that had 4 ATMs dispensing cash with queues close to half a mile long! Still, I grit my teeth and told myself that I might need it - I *hate* being without at least a tenner on me but had used my emergency money to buy the wine when I realised it was cash only!

Eventually I had my cash and my alcohol and was able to head in to the South Stand where I found Simmo and the gang before Kick-Off for the required programme photo



I had gone for an aisle seat in the lower tier of the South Stand as they were on the cheaper categories of seating and I knew a few people were in that block. Again, probably not the game to have tried saving money on!

The seat wasn't bad view-wise for the game but I had a lot of empty stretches around me, the few people nearby were either French or Irish - the fella who eventually shuffled up to two along from me telling me that he had bought tickets as he "assumed at least one Irish team would make it!" given that Leinster and Munster had made the semi-finals!

The first half was slightly awkward and a bit lonely, I did have my flag proudly waving but I did feel a tad isolated, particularly with a very loud and excitable Clermont fan in front of me who spent most of the game out of his seat on his feet gesticulating to the pitch!

The second half wasn't as bad as I started interacting with the people in front of me, making the first move by complimenting one of the ladies hair colour (a brilliantly vibrant deep red) and she then was fascinated by my bottle of wine!

The Irish gentleman then started to wind up the Clermont fan with my flag, although it was all good natured and he saw the funny side at least - well, up until the final whistle anyway!

BACK TO BACK!

"WE KNOW WHO WE ARE, WE KNOW WHO WE ARE, CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE WE KNOW WHO WE ARE!!"

Tears of joy streaming down my face by this point, utter contentment at being there, having witnessed such a brilliant match, such a superb display from my team and getting to see the moment we had dreamed of since Brad lifted that cup back in Lyon - RETAINED!

Actually my Clermont 'friend' was very gracious in their defeat, even going so far as to borrow a red jacket from someone and attempting to use it to cover his yellow shirt, claiming to be a Saracens fan during the trophy presentation!!


That, unfortunately, is where my day starts to go a bit sour. Already a bit upset that I'd buggered up my seating choice and wasn't with the huge crowd of Sarries fans right next to the trophy presentation section of the stand (that I was squinting to see) my day got even worse after the Champions photos.



Our guys have always been phenomenal at 'thanking the crowd' - circulating the pitch and applauding the fans, taking the time to show their appreciation and even stop for the occasional selfie and autograph. I was down by the pitch barriers ready, I knew they were coming, I knew the trophy would do its lap of honour, I knew my boys wouldn't let me down.

But they did.

They didn't come my way.

They turned and went to the East stand behind the team photo set up and then carried on round to the North stand and finished up in front of the West stand again where they'd been given the trophy.

They never once came near the South stand.

Only one solitary Saracens player came close, Duncan Taylor came over to speak to his family along from me at the barrier and briefly shook some hands and had a few photos, but that was it.

I was heartbroken, my tears of utter joy at the result slowly morphing into desolation and rejection.

My boys, who were so happy, so rewarded for their efforts, didn't care about me or any of the others in my end of the stadium. We were ignored.

Now, I know that wasn't the case, it wasn't deliberate or even conscious, I've watched the TV coverage and the guys were fairly shepherded about and once their families got to them that all took over and they did what they needed to do to process the enormity of what they'd just achieved.

But so did I.

I needed it to be real for me, I needed to see that trophy in Brad's hands with my own eyes, to see those smiles and medals. But I didn't, I couldn't, they were too far away. Instead it felt like a slow moving nightmare, a dream that was held out of my reach as the boys moved off towards the tunnel and into the dressing room for their celebrations - a tiki tonga awaited along with a Bazz remix session.

I left Murrayfield still in tears after being told by a stadium staff member to effectively 'get out', taking my shirt off and shoving it in my bag as I went, abandoning my flag somewhere.

Standing outside the ground I was faced with a choice; turn left and follow the crowd to the Metro and into the city, I'd find plenty of people to celebrate our victory with, or to turn right and walk back to my room.

I spent close to twenty minutes just standing and crying, teeting on the edge of meltdown, not knowing what to do.

I turned right.

I'd been tweeting during the game and at the end, my way of controlling my anxiety, and as such my Dad was well aware of my state of mind when he called. I'm not sure my Dad has ever actually dealt with me that far into meltdown before, certainly not knowing it was an autistic meltdown anyway. He was able to say mostly the right things however and got me calm enough to avoid my pain turning to anger too much, my initial reaction to destroy my challenge scrapbook being tempered by his words.

I was still desperately hurting however and it took a good 2 hours of tears on my bed to get me to the point where I could even think straight.

By this point a few people had noticed I was missing from the celebrations, contacting me to say where they were in case I was elsewhere and trying to find people.

I'm grateful for those messages as it did at least let me know that I wasn't as utterly alone as I felt at that point.

But I couldn't join them, I couldn't do that to people, bring them down with my pain and hurt, ruin their night with my tears that would just not stop flowing.

I think, in hindsight, my reaction was to more than just the disappointment of the boys not coming over. I was so on the edge, so broken by then that everything just came crashing down that night. I was worried about money, how much I'd spent during the season doing all these matches, worried about the exams I'd just sat, certain I'd failed one of them, stressing about both jobs workloads and how much coursework I still had to do and ultimately functioning on far too little sleep when measured against how much social interaction I'd been doing. It wasn't so much Autism Fatigue at that point as Autism Absolute Exhaustion!

I did what I needed to do to get through that night, walking around the corner to purchasing sweet and sour chicken balls and chips from a Chinese takeaway (food I could eat without utensils!) and trying to sleep as much as possible.

The next day was hard at first, I didn't even want to touch my Sarries stuff at that point. The shirt had been lobbed at my suitcase when I got in, my remaining flag kicked under the bed, my SSA pin shoved in my coat pocket and the programme buried under my zip hoody which had been covered by my discarded jeans. For a room with barely anything in it I had created a war zone!

Eventually though I gathered all my possessions and left to check out, ordering an Uber to take me to the city centre where Sue had told me I could come meet them in their hotel room.

Thank god for the Feasey family that day, they lifted my spirits straight away - I walked in to Adam, in his bed/fort doing Latin homework!

We left the suitcases and other bits and pieces in Reception to collect later and wandered off in search of lunch, a side trip for me and Adam into a souvenir store to purchase a fluffy cow for Sue, which was promptly christened "DunCow Taylor"!!

The rest of the day was spent meandering the city, eating ice-creams and going for coffee whilst laughing at the social media posts from the boys and other fans - especially the ones of the guys in the train station heading for their ride home, Alex Goode still in full kit - boots included!!!

When I'd booked my return journey I'd purposefully gone for the same train and carriage (first!) as Sue, Paul and Adam so I would have company on the way home. (It hadn't been possible on the way up as they had gone on the Friday to see the Challenge Cup game that Stade Francais won)

Spending the last few hours in the Virgin Trains First Class lounge was bliss; free tea/coffee/water available along with charge points for phones and free wifi! Exactly what we needed to wind down and rest before the long train ride home.

The fourth seat on their table wasn't booked when we boarded so I switched my seat over to join them, letting someone else have my single seat

We had a fairly good journey to begin with, free drinks and snacks coming round and a lovely staff member who went in search of a different meal option for me when I told him that I couldn't eat either of the two sandwich options available as they both contained things I cant stand! (One was Egg and the other Mustard!) He came back with a ham and cheese baguette which pleased me immensely!

All was well until we reached the Durham area, when we stopped.

And stayed stopped.

The announcement told us that there was a trespasser on the tracks and we would have to wait until the police moved them on.

This later transpired to be not the full story - the trespasser was actually someone threatening to jump from the viaduct up ahead and so had to be helped away from the edge before we could go anywhere.

No fault of Virgin or anyone really, but it did mean by the time we got moving again we were nearly an hour behind schedule! Luckily we had no connections to make as Paul was parked at Stevenage but a fair few passengers were worried about getting into London after the last tubes had stopped!

We eventually made it to the car and I got dropped off in the wee small hours of Monday morning, no time to think about anything but transferring the essentials from my handbag to my work bag ready to go off to work just 7 hours later!

Still, Champions of Europe!

Game 29: Exeter Chiefs (Sandy Park)
Urgh, Sandy Park. Not exactly my favourite ground in the world, nor my favourite journey either!

Luckily this time I was in the Feasey car and not on the cross country train which made it slightly more bearable!

A rather early start again to get across to Devon on time as we had the earlier KO, having to account for local traffic relating to a Country Show or something happening round the corner from the ground!

The ticketing had been a nightmare in the run up to the game, at one point we weren't sure how many Sarries fans would actually manage to make the match, a fair few deciding the troubles with the tickets and general logistics was too much and they would save themselves for Twickenham . . .

Not to put too much of a downer on the day but the weather wasn't nice, the ground isn't brilliant in my eyes and the home crowd were a bit, er, rude.

Did manage to get a few photos of Craig Doyle getting his hair and make-up touched up before rolling cameras, the usual TV build up to a big game with lots of roving cameras sweeping around the crowds - not my cup of tea!
Once inside I stuck mostly to the pitch edge, watching our boys warm up and getting some waves from the younger lads, as a few of the fans got collared for TV interviews with Andy Goode - I'm sure it was complete coincidence when a long range kick of Alex Goode's nearly landed on the camera . . . . !
I took a group shot photo for the scrapbook but even at this point with 10 mins to KO I was having serious doubts about being there, feeling incredibly penned in and struggling.

Helen and John were really good with me, as they have been in the past but unfortunately it was the group the other side of me that I didn't know that well and truly ruined my day in the second half.


Already feeling very apprehensive about our ability to win this game when we lost Ashy and Rhodes in quick succession early on, the game never felt like ours, it always felt like we were scrambling, tired and running on fumes against a rested home side.

The half-time break seemed to involved a reshuffle on my left, ending up with a lady I'd never met sitting next to me, and when Wyles crossed for his try this lady grabbed me round the shoulders and shook me while screaming in my ear

Well, I don't think anyone would be too surprised that I didn't react well to that!!

She got very huffy with me when I wrenched myself away, reaching again to put her hand on my arm when I told her to not touch me, she eventually got the message but later tried to tell me that "it's hard not to touch others when you're celebrating a try" . . . .

I'm still not entirely sure why there wasn't some kind of sanction to Henry Slade for his tackle on Ellery, yes Mike managed to handstand his way into getting the ball down and scoring but either Slade tip tackled him to get him almost 180` the wrong way up *or* Ellery was already jumping when Slade hit him so its taking a man out in the air . . . either way - Yellow!

But nothing happened to Slade and then just a few minutes later he was the one taking a penalty for Chiefs, booting a massive effort down to find touch just 7m out, a ridiculous kick that at any other point I would massively admire!

So, lineout less than 10m from the try line, well, it was always going to end with a Chiefs rolling maul and rumble over wasn't it? I don't think Steenson even really bothered with the conversion, the clock was in the red and they were two points up . . .

And thus our season ends, with a whimpering sigh of guttedness.

The boys did come round to applaud the crowd, Ashy getting the biggest cheer as he waved us goodbye, not the exit any of us wanted for him, how different the game might have been had he not had to depart early injured

The journey home was tough, I knew a massive crash was coming for me emotionally, the twin realisations of the season being over and not achieving my 30 was going to hit me hard.

But when it did it surprisingly came with a large dose of pride and relief; I was done, I could rest.



Game 30: England vs Barbarians (Twickenham)
Having not reached the Aviva Premiership final as I had expected, I was left both with no Game 30 and two tickets I didn't really want any more!

Luckily my Wasps fan uncle was wanting to go watch his team take on the Chiefs on the hallowed ground so that solved the second problem! (Sorry it didn't go your way Chris!)

The first was a dilemma at first but ended up solved quite nicely.

See originally I wasn't going to go to the England vs Baabaas game as it would be kicking off as my flight to LA was taking off but, the week before I'd decided to cancel my holiday.

I hadn't been feeling like going for a while, 7 days on my own in the USA wasn't sounding as fantastic as it did when I first organised the trip back in the February - the rearranged NYC flight from when I though we would be playing our Falcons game out there! So, I was all ready to call Virgin Atlantic and cancel my flights, losing all the money as they were non-refundable tickets (the reason I'd changed the NYC trip rather than cancelling) when something incredible happened . . .

There was an announcement out of camp Saracens - the Sarries v Falcons game in September was to be played in Philadelphia!!!

Well, I got those flights changed to be Philly flights pretty damn quick!!

I had considered the possibility of 'saving' Game 30 to be the Philadelphia game but in the end my decision was made by two team announcements; as Sarries weren't featuring in the final, suddenly our non-Lions boys were available for selection! England vs Baabaas quickly became Goodey and Brits versus Wiggy, Loz, Nate and Nick!

How could I not go to that game?!?!?!
So, Game 30 did involve a trip to HQ in the end and I wore my shirt with pride for our 6 guys involved, celebrating the end of a brilliant season with a glass of fizz in the London sunshine!

Even our Scottish friend DunCow made an appearance at HQ that day, cheering for the Baabaas of course!

The game was brilliant fun, as all Baabaas games are, with flashes of pure magic from our dancing maestro Mr Goode and some wonderful moments from our youngsters wearing the rose shirt with pride for the first time!

To get to watch our boys take the chance offered to them by Eddie and leap at it was something special, even if Loz did have to leave the field early with a shoulder knock it was still so exciting to watch the next generation of England and Saracens superstars ready to go!

The match ended in an England victory and seats on the plane to Argentina for Nick, Nate and Loz!

A brilliant walk around applause was made even better when our boys came over to us (hangin over the barriers with our huge SOT flag on display!) - although I think Wiggy was heading for his kids rather than us as we were stood next to them!
Nate and Nick were both brilliant though and pulled Wiggy in for a group shot as we were gibbering with excitement over getting a photo with them in England kit, such a fantastic memory to have, thank you so much guys!


After the game we didn't really want the experience to end, so we headed to the players exit and set up shop to wait patiently! And rewarded we were! The ever wonderful Mr Brits and the hugely friendly and happy Goodey both came over and spent a fair amount of time talking, signing and posing for us!

The England team then trickled out too, with our boys willing to pose for another photo with the flag, as did Mr Jones himself! We even roped in Paul Gustard to have a photo with Schalla joining in again! I then spent the next 20 minutes of so taking photos of the girl I was standing next to as she got her much wanted shots with Chris Robshaw and George Ford!


All in all, a simply wonderful day that really summed up the season and my challenge to me - a fun match at a great location with superb company!

I'll miss the sense of achievement I got from doing my scrapbook after each game and I will miss going to all the games as I will have to really cut back next season for financial reasons but I know I've got a few key games I want to go to - Philadelphia being the main one!

It's been an incredible year, one of real self-discovery and challenge, and I know I have come out stronger and wiser for it.

Thank you to all those who helped and supported me along the way, it really means the world to me.

#SarriesFamily