The Pinnacle of my Rugby Career

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  Weymouth, United Kingdom
Wednesday, April 30, 2008

8000 feet. That will be the pinnacle of my career, and that of many others on the trip. Not many people are stupid enough to play rugby any higher than that. We'll get on to that later though.

Alan came up on the Friday. I wandered over with Lucas at lunchtime, feeling like a zombie, after a week of nights and working on the bus during the day. He had already fixed the dodgy engine mounting by the time I got there. We chatted, he gave me some advice and a bill for what he had spent. He then walked away and drove off. i don't think we'll see Alan again. He may be a prickly character, but he certainly knows his way around a bus. So, the hunt is on to find a replacement.
With Jim back in Devon, the progress on the refit once more slowed down. I took some junk to the tip and tidied up, but i think my skills lie elsewhere. Besides, there is plenty to sort out. Tojjer, one of the local paramedics, reminded me that he was going to get me some medical supplies. The Ambulance Service use their out of date stuff for teaching purposes. Apparently they'll sort us out with a good size package of medical necessities in exchange for some recognition on the bus. Fair swap, I thought.

I managed to acquire a portaloo off Ebay during the week for £33. It's in Sidmouth awaiting collection. I'm sure we will be spending some intimate moments together.

The next fund raiser is the 'Drink the Route' event down the Police Bar, involving drinking one of three drinks on offer in each of the 13 countries on the route. Jim sent me a package of the passports to sell to participants. In a similar vein to the paintballing, trying to get people to commit and part with their cash is tiresome. No wonder some folk resort to using balaclavas and sawn off shot guns, I can sympathise with them to some extent. we'll get there, I'm sure. I just have visions of poor old Jim missing a lot of the do whilst he irons transfers on to t-shirts as most of the participants decide to leave it until the last minute.

The Day at the Races is also booked and has it's Facebook page up and running.  Salisbury Races on June 29th is when it is planned for. Hopefully we will get a minibus full from Devon and perhaps two from Weymouth plus the bus itself. We'll be serving canapes on board and an assortment of  free drinks throughout the day. Entry fee included for £45 to £55 each. Should be a good day out and raise a few bob to boot.

I made contact with Fekade Addisu, who is currently the closest thing that Ethiopia has to a national rugby coach. I don't think they have ever had a competitive match yet. Anyway, he was delighted with the idea of us turning up, running a training session, donating some kit and playing a game. He felt sure he could muster enough players for a full team. i put some feelers out, to see if there was any interest locally in coming out to Ethiopia for a week at the end of October for a week of sightseeing on the bus then a few days of training and playing rugby. It wasn't long before interested parties were contacting me and as things stand, I think if all of those who are expressing interest actually turn up, we would have a team. 

The Ethiopian team is described as having an abundance of slim, nippy wingers, but lacks large, beefy forwards. I think our team will lack nippy players but will have an abundance of plump, breathless, elderly players, most of whom know how to play and wish their bodies would respond accordingly. It's the altitude and the 'nippy wingers' phrase that worries me the most.

Next job on the bus is giving it a respray. I asked the question of people what colour the bus should be and the answer was unanimous. Red. Actually, only Jim voted, so it was bound to be unanimous. I've been trying to hassle the Post Office and the Dorset Fire Service to see if I can wangle some paint. It's a bit expensive if we have to pay for it. Hopefully we'll get a few volunteers to assist on 16th May, then we can get the it on the road, all shiny, red and covered in sponsorship adverts, IF the bloody DVLA ever return my log book.    

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