Self and She Who Must be Obeyed had popped by on BD itself to witness some fesity, if unspectacular traditional festive fayre between Town and the Reds which the later edged 12-5. It would have been more but for some herculean defence by the Cherry & Whites at times; and some bizarre individual decision making when concentrating on beating the last man, rather than trying to steam roller over instead at others; seemed to be being overlooked.

But it mattered not. For us it was to be a fun afternoon as neutrals for once and the company was as fine as ever, even if it meant we were packed off into the engulfing gloom with a pre wash rinse of our clothing by the elements.

Circumstances away from the rugby however had cast a shadow or three, and provided timely, if unwelcome reminders that Lifes' twists of Fate can be so cruel.

At the start of the week our slumbers had been disturbed over our roof by the relentless and urgent sounds of an unusual amount of helicopter traffic. It was clear that something catastrophic was unfolding nearby and our fears were realised at first light with the news greeting us on local radio of the coach tragedy at Townshend.

Elsewhere, and our former home hit the national news on Wednesday as snow and ice contributed to a fatal road accident close to Woodhall Spa in Lincs. That particular spot had claimed lives only a month or so earlier; although then it had been categorically down to a reckless overtaking manouevre. This had been pure bad luck and, with the safe arrival of Jnr and his Maid to these parts, we thought no more of it.

Until that was we ended a voluntary festive 'virtual' absence and checked our email before heading into town for the game. Amongst the 'junk' came a missive from a former neighbour and (still) friend bringing us up to speed with the unwelcome news that the victim of this latest accident had been a good friend and neighbour of ours. He and his wife had had a pretty torrid 12-18 months courtesy of some very awkward neighbours, but it was looking as if that sorry chapter was coming to an end. Fat chance of a happy ending just yet eh?!

Then came the heartbreaking news of which we'd also been unawares, and the passing of such a young soul in sweet little Emily. How do you get over such a thing? As a parent the thought of such a loss even now has me welling up inside with sadness. For Rhodri and Hannah and everyone connected with them it beggars understanding.

A starting point beyond immediate family has to be from friends and colleagues. And yesterday we witnessed a very public display of just that, as nearly 6000 rugby fans, players and officials stood shoulder to shoulder in solidarity with one of Theirs in his time of unimaginable grief.

Only once before have I been present at such an occurrance; some 15 years earlier at Silverstone, the day after Ayrton Senna had perished at Imola. On that occasion the eery silence that descended as a full grid (including his replacement at Williams, David Coulthard) symbolically switched off their engines was deafening.

And yet this all paled into insignificance on Sunday as the allotted sixty seconds was observed impeccably by all those inside the arena and hopefully sent a message to the McAtee's that we are ALL there for Them.

Obviously the emotions of the sad event itself and of the occasion of the visit of one of our 'bitterest' but importantly respected foes, Albion; all played it's part in what unfolded in the ensuing eighty minutes of all-action rugby from the Pirates. Fuller reports of the match will be produced elsewhere so I'll leave that bit to them. But for me, for Mrs Woll, Woll Jnr and His Maid, and no doubt everyone the final outcome was only a smaller piece of a bigger jigsaw that our friends from across the Bridge played a very big part in.

Something to ponder and remember I'd say.

View a Printer Friendly version of this Story.

Bookmark or share this story with:

• Digg
• Delicious
• Facebook
• Reddit
• Stumbleupon

Related Articles:

• Groundhog Day at Brickfields