Category Archives: World Cup 2022

Sunday 28th June 2010 published Monday 29th June (Andy’s blog)

We woke up nice and early for the 7am departure and 500km drive from Johannesburg to Bloemfontein. Anticipation and excitement in equal measure, but personally I have seen all this before. This was Keith’s first big England game and Kirsty had seen us lose in the quarter finals (or the super sixteens as they are now being referred now in the ever more brand focused world we live in) to Portugal last time round.

Dom was on his usual ‘urgent’ form from the start, driving through the suburbs of Johannesburg like Colin McRae. The roads were empty, after all it was Sunday and 7am! Dom did come across one slower driver and hung on his shoulder until he wilted and pulled over. It should be said that Kirsty and I were in Nat’s car, whilst Dom drove Keith and Nat. The others were off to Durban from Bloemfontein first thing Monday to catch the 4pm kick off for the Holland vs Slovakia game, for them the World Cup is one big road trip!

The drive to Bloemfontein was superb another dead straight road passing through the countryside in a way the Romans would have been proud. Very little traffic and virtually no visible signs of life. No towns, villages and hamlets. Nothing but fields and trees, with the odd American West style windmills which I assume must be for irrigation.

We hit Bloemfontein shortly before 11am, and I got a call from my brother Richie wishing us luck! It was 20 years ago that I had nipped back after the Cameroon game in Naples to collect him and take him to the semi final in Turin, against the Germans. We soon found the B&B that we were staying in. Well the one that Dom, Keith and Nat were staying in. Ours was ‘just a few doors along’. Esther greeted us with a cup of tea and we were asked to wait as we would be shown our B&B ‘presently’. Her son and his daughter complete with her German kit, took us to where we were staying. We were greeted by a young woman and an older man, who seemed a tad on edge. The man asked to take a seat and offered us coffee as he would ‘have a chat with us just now’. Kirsty was her usual relaxed self chatting away with all and sundry, whereas I was a little more irrittated. I just wanted to dump our overnight bag, find the others and get down to where the action was. After more diversionary talk about some cheetah park we should take time to visit (this is big game day, but not that sort of game for god’s sake), the chap came clean and said that he had over booked and we were actually staying just around the corner. He admitted he had been asked to stall us and even offered to do us a little dance. This was starting to remind me of a scene in ‘The Missionary’ or ‘Ripping Yarns’ but decided I would go with the flow.

So Esther’s son and his young daughter jumped back in our car, we followed the other chap, who we subsequently found out was Russian, and we swung by and got Dom’ team to follow us. We only drove for 2 minutes before arriving at another house and being introduced to our third host of the day, Irene who looked like Nana Mouskouri. She was frantically trying to get ou room ready, which was basically an annexe off the garage. It was basic but it was ‘home’ for the night, and we would not be there long given that we would be out all night celebrating, wouldn’t we? Irene’s daughter was a younger carbon copy of Irene, complete down to the spectacles and tied back long black hair. Anway we bid our farewells and headed for the town centre, which was Loch Logan, an artificial lake with a shopping mall attached. Think Harlow or Camberley with a lake out front.

Half the mall was about four storeys high and half of it was still being built and there must have been some sort of accident with cement as their air was thick with dust. The England fans were there in their thousands, outnumbering their German counterparts by 5:1. The atmosphere was good humoured and everyone was having a good time. But boy was it crowded!

I broke away from the others to see if I could find Alan, Dave, Swiss Jimmy, Steve and Jack. I had spotted Al’s red top, red hat and rather sassy little black camera strap across his chest from across the lake. They had had a ball the night before, staying with ‘some hillbillies’ several kms from Bloemfontein. Steve mentioned that their host had brought out the brandy and Jimmy had polished off a bottle on his own and was lagging by 8.30pm. Dave had obviously had a good night also given that he had sacrificed his ‘England expects every man to do his duty and shave each and every day’ law. Having scolded Alan and Steve for non shaving on account of them looking ‘disgracefully scruffy’, his whiskers were even more notceable. I had got word that Ledley King may replace Upson. This met with universal outrage from the assembled West Ham contingent and even Al (a Spurs fan) was admitting that the thought of King playing a half would fill him with fear. Jack went so far as to say, ‘why break up Terry and Upson, they have never lost together’. Little did Jack know how wrong he would be. I told the boys of our complex plan to get flights and board in Cape Town once we won today. Kirsty had been on the case as usual and had agreed with Nat’s brother Rich to press ‘buy’ as soon as the final whistle had been blown and we were through. We even lined up a reserve credit card, just in case..

I met up with Kirsty and the others who were queuing up to get in to a place to eat. Loch Logan had never seen am invasion like this before and I doubt they will ever see it’s like again. Those bars and restauarants probably took a month’s takings in a day. Our fish and chips never did show up, instead we had to make do with some tramenzinies (little flat breaded toasted sandwiches), as the place had run dry of what I thought the waiter referred to as ‘eggs’. When I asked increduously ‘what has eggs got to do with fish and chips?’ I was told by Keith that the waiter had actually said ‘Hake not eggs’ this Afrikaans accent can play havoc with my hearing sometimes.

The football ground was literally directly behind the shopping centre. The Free State stadium was a pretty tired old structure – think The New Den on a sunny day. Spirits were still very high and I bumped into Robbie again, last scene atop Table Mountain. Robbie’s lot were heading up to Victoria Falls after the game, potentially meeting up with Steve’s lot.

The game started and within a couple of minutes I was in Kirsty’s ear telling her we looked sluggish and that Germany were ripping us to pieces in midfield. When we went two down I wa not surprised and feared a thrashing. Poor old Upson made the mistake for the first goal by Klose who I had said before a ball was kicked ‘would score’. He atoned for it to some degree with a header to bring us back to 2-1 and we actuallly got into the game. When Lampard’s goal was ruled out, we could see it crossed the line clear enough from where we were standing. These suspicions were confirmed by dozens of texts and Facebook postings moments later. At that point we were starting to boss the game and who knows what may have happened if the goal had been rightly awarded? I very much doubt we would have suffered our worst World Cup beating ever, and we may have lived to fight another day, maybe just one though. You need some luck in tournaments, and Germany just got theirs yesterday.

Anyway, forced to chase the game we were taken apart by a ruthlessly efficient and technically superior German team. There are lessons to be learned, but who knows whether the FA or indeed anyone charged with the well being of English football will be able to buck the Premier League market. More on that later.

The rest of the evening was predictably downbeat, I tried to meet up with Steve and the boys who were in 2nd Street where the action was. There was heavy police presence, but spirits were good and I saw no trouble. I think that this was more of a precautionary measure than anything else. Sadly, communication was chaotic and I never did find the boys which was a shame.

We ended up watching the Argentina vs Mexico in a restaurant and theorising on how things may change. My mood was somewhat blue but at least we were not subjected to the uber critcal English media and some of their bile. No doubt, those responsible for producing the News of The World which was everywhere that morning complete with pictures of Rooney, Gerrard and Terry with lions teeth, and headline masterpieces such as ‘Long to Wayne over us’ would be turning on the team like the girl in the Exorcist.

Much like like the English football team, Dom was so tired he fell asleep at the table, he has taken on this World Cup with the zeal of a Jesuit. For him Nat and Keith their odyssey continues!

We returned to our B&B before midnight, spirits low but not as low as in previous tournaments. The room was ready and there was a little double bar heater keeping the room, which did have an heir of my Nona’s bedroom about it, all old fashioned furniture and a whiff of moth balls. There was something familiar about this place and something familiar about the whole day really. I have plenty of theories about why this was a failure, if indeed it was, which I am currently writing up. If that goal had gone in. If – The story of England’s footballing history.

Sunday 27th June (Andy’s blog)

So much anticipation and so much disappointment, again. No point in dwelling on the atrocious decision by some half arsed Uruguyan ref and linesman. Had that goal been given, things may have been different, we will never know. Being in the ground, you could sense us getting back and importantly the Germans showing signs of weakness. Some good must come from it, both for our national team and every national team robbed of key decisions through lack of technology use. Sepp Blatter, why not become a Catholic Pope mate, there will be a vacancy soon enough.

Anyway loads more on these issues later. Today hats off to Germany who inflicted out worst ever defeat in a World Cup. They outplayed us and finished us in a clinical fashion. By contrast our lot could not trap a ball with a blanket. Everytime Germany took a shot it looked like it was on target and likely to test the keeper.

So, we exit the competition but not South Africa just yet. There is a bit more to see. A nice little game drive and a visit to Rorke’s Drift. At least there we went down fighting!

Sunday 27th June 2010

Drove 540km to Bloemfontein from Joburg. Road straight as a die. Full report to follow but here we are, looks like the same team as Wednesday and we are in red. The old foe await, this is the World Cup and this is what we have come for. Will we win today, of that I am sure. Then bring Diego and his merry men on, time to square up the misdemeanours of 86 and 98. Happy days!

Wednesday 23rd June – published Saturday 26th June (Andy’s blog)

Match day in Port Elizabeth, a place infamous for the death of Steve Biko in September 1977. Hopefully, today this will be the scene of our victory. The must win game versus Slovenia. As we all know we won 1-0 and won easily. But what a day. Truly amazing

To be continued..

Saturday 19th June 2010 published Saturday 26th June 2010

As I sit on the rather large twin hulled boat waiting to depart Robben Island for the mainland, I have mixed emotions. The best of people and the worst of people. The best bit is easy, having seen where the political prisoners of the 1960’s were incarcerated was shocking to the core. Those prisoners who took a stand against Apartheid and stood up for freedom. This was the reason we made the short 30 minute journey across the bay from Cape Town for a three hour tour around this sparsely populated island. The worst of people, well we will come to them later.

The departure station in Cape Town was beautifully constructed and had an air of class. Football or Soccer had played a major part in the lives of the inmates, and all the teams are listed as well as colour pictures of their shirts on the walls. There were some great team names, ‘Old Crocks’, ‘Happy Boys’, ‘Hotspurs’, ‘Blues’, ‘Gunners’, ‘Fighters’ and ‘Rangers’ and it gave a real flavour of the love of the game by the South Africans.

On the way across the bay, we chatted to a father and son from Sussex who were doing the World Cup together. The older gentleman was in his eighties and his son probably my age. They were having a ball, and we just one of many father and son teams out here, enjoying the football together, reliving earlier days no doubt, but above all doing what fathers and sons should do. More power to them all. I wonder how many of the prisoners on Robben Island could ever have enjoyed such precious times?

As we docked on Robben Island, the boat gently played out the South African hymn Nkosi sikelel iAfrika which forms part of the new National Anthem of the country. This was a song sung by those who fought and resisted the apartheid system and is an amazing piece of music. Even as I write these words on a warm morning a week later in Johannesburg, I can’t stop the tears rolling down my face. To think that such inhumanity to men by fellow men could take place so recently, still makes me equally sad and angry. I have never been a massive fan of authority, and those that know me know this, but cruelty and injustice are the two things that would make me take up arms and fight. For that reason alone, the trip to Robben Island was significant.

As we passed the hundreds of Kelp birds feasting on the delights between sea and shore, we were directed to waiting buses by our guides. No such luxuries for the prisoners who arrived in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s who would have been marched off to their cells, incarcerated and forgotten.

Our guides were Tabo (MC on the mic) and Serge (driver). Tabo was laid back, gently spoken with a razor sharp wit and cheeky sense of humour. The game against Algeria the night before had been turgid in the extreme, and even I had struggled to find anything redeeming about it. Being positive, I had watched the whole miserable 94 minutes again that morning on TV and we did look better than we had done ‘live’ or allegedly live at The Green Point stadium. Tabo extolled all the English on the bus, which was 99%, indeed he asked us how many British on board, which got a howl of derision and he duly corrected himself to refer to us as English, to ‘ show some love for South Africans in the bus.’ He went on to say,’Don’t give up on England, otherwise all hell will break loose’. I think those days are largely over, one can but look on the brightside after all!

Tabo talked us through the history of the island. It had been a leper colony in 1840 and there was a cemetry containing the graves of 900 lepers alongside a church and a small hospital. Robben means seals in Dutch, and the island had become home to the notorious prison to convicted criminals. In 1960, the political prisoners joined the convicts.

Tabo showed us where Robert Sobukwe president of the PAC (Pan Africanist Congress) had been kept for 9 years (1960-1969) in solitary confinement. He had actually been released in 1963, but had then been held arbitarily under a new clause in South African law called ‘the Sobukwe Clause’, such was the randomness of justice and law in that era.

Tabo then delivered us into the care of Sparks, a former inmate and member of the ANC who had served time from 1983-1990 under the Terrorism Act, Section 29.

Sparks’s number was 1981 5683. He showed us the communal cell he lived in, with no glazed windows, just holes, zero heating or proper beds. They just had two blankets one as a base for their bed, and one as a pillow or cover, their choice. Two idiots, from North West England, jumped into the solitary bunk beds, more to the astonishment and amazement of Sparks. They did not need to be told to pipe down, something about this eerie place just suggested that behaving like a pair of chumps really did not work.

We were showed the ration sheets for black political prisoners and the difference between the rations for coloured prisoners and the convicted criminals. There is a picture in this blog which show you the difference. Unbelievable.

Later we were shown the exercise and labour yard which Nelson Rolihlaha Mandela had hidden his book, The Long Walk to Freedom, behind a vine. We were told how the prisoners had passed information inside tennis balls, over the walls, and some even becoming decent players! When the younger and more radical and violent ANC members joined the penal colony, the older and wiser members, such as Mandela, often used the message passing system to calm the young ‘uns down! Furthermore, the political prisoners actually politicised the criminals much to the dismay of the authorities.

The final part of the tour saw us pass Mandela’s cell. Small, tight and depressingly stark. To think he served 27 years of his life sentence in this room was poignant. Meanwhile, the two English idiots, now joined by two fools from Brazil were gaily chatting about football whilst Sparks was telling us the detail. The Brazilian boys also could not contain their giggling everytime Sparks pronounced Mandela’s name. Perhaps nerves got the better of them. Dear oh dear.

And so our few precious hours on this eerie island came to an end. You’d think that the experience may have had a calming influence on everyone. It did, but there’s always a few. The American woman who sat behind Kirsty and droned on did not help things along, nor did the numerous idiots trying to take all measure of pictures through windows, doorways and portholes. At one point the idiot Brazilian and English from earlier had entered a beach reserved for penguins despite clear and frequent signs. They went on to to knock cameras out of each other’s hands rushing to get a picture of the confounded football stadium. Although the Green Point stadium does resemble a gigantic Bose speaker, it really does not warrant a undignified scrabble reminiscent of those god awful first day of the January sale.

But fortunately for us, those simpletons did not provide the final lasting memory. As we entered the bay, we saw another of the peaks to the side of Table Mountain, The Lion’s Head. It’s funny, but I could see Madiba’s head laying resting, his nose, eye lashes and a wispy cloud looking like his greying hair looking up to the sky, at peace. A truly moving and inspiring afternoon. One that the Dutch football team had given up a training session for and one which the England team had passed on that very same day. Let’s hope that is not a sign.

‘There are few misfortunes in the world that you cannot turn into a personal triumph if you have the iron will and necessary skill.’ Nelson Mandela

Tuesday 22nd June published Saturday 26th June (Kirsty’s blog)

On our final leg of the Garden Route towards Port Elizabeth and our World Cup destiny we decide to stop off at Knysna for those elusive oysters (Judy told us that Knysna is famous for them and recommended a restaurant on the waterfront). We park up and browse the shops on our way to the gorgeous little harbour. There are fantastic shops here selling African arts and crafts and it’s really good quality, I was trying to imagine a shop in Blackpool selling sculptures, oil on canvas, beautiful metal creations and intricate beaded jewellery…but I couldn’t. They certainly don’t do cheap tat around here, in fact they have some lovely stuff.

Ansy spotted the restaurant and we again manage to get a table right by the water, but we check this time before sitting down that they definitely have oysters and do they…hurrah!

So a dozen large wild oysters to share and a glass of wine each, is the order of the day. However, our lovely waitress Rochelle returns with bad news…they only have medium sized wild oysters! I wouldn’t call that bad news, I’d call that an opportunity to order some more oysters!

When they arrive I think there’s been some kind of mistake as the most enormous, gigantic, plump, prehistoric looking oysters turn up. If these are medium sized the table wouldn’t have been big enough for the monsters that must be large size! They are gorgeous too, and we spend a happy hour or so eating oysters followed by a bit of sushi before hitting the road again, bliss!

We set off for Port Elizabeth and I’m looking forward to meeting Wendy at Sir Roys on the Sea, who I’ve been dealing with over the past few days to try and secure a room for our three night stay. The whole of Port Elizabeth has ‘no room at the inn’ and it’s looking likely that we’ll have to sleep in the car on match night. Wendy has been doing her best but is still awaiting confirmation from FIFA on a pre-booked room. The excellent directions take us straight to Sir Roys at the Sea and we’re warmly greeted by Wendy (feel like we know each other after the last few days of emails and phone calls), she also has the brilliant news that FIFA have released a room so we’re not homeless after all :o)

The room is lovely with a sea view and it turns out that ‘the boys’ are in the room above us but have just gone down to bar ‘Finnezz’ for drinks.

We shortly join them and find that Eva Minimus has arrived safely, though from now on will be called Jam Jar Jack on account of his savings account which he used some of to fund his SA trip. Though Eva Minor (or moany as the boys are now calling him) is conspicuous in his absence. Turns out he’s been doing all the driving as he thinks Steve and Dave are blind because they can’t read a menu without holding it as far away as their arms will allow. So he’s a bit knackered, fed up of drinking and having some ‘me time’.

We are off to meet Dom, new arrival Keith and Simon at their hotel bar down the road so after a 5 minute cab (which took over an hour), we arrive to find them happily ensconsed in a really dark, loud bar, having spent the best part of the afternoon there, they were merrily working their way through a mixture of bubbly, red wine and cider! Dom was put to bed, tired and emotional after his epic football marathon and the rest of us headed to Blackbeards for dinner where Chris joined us.

We have a lovely meal apart from Keith who had to send his back but it was worth going there jut for the OTT nautical theme and the hilarious ‘Manuel’ style service.

We head back to our lovely little spot at Roys at the Sea, their tag line is ‘Where everyone’s treated like royalty’ though I certainly slept a whole lot better than the Princess and the Pea!

Match day tomorrow, can’t wait, have no idea what all this dissention in camp will do for our performance, we can only hope that they’ve got everything out in the open and bonded as a team, ready for tomorrow.

Sunday 20th June published 24th June (Kirsty’s blog)

We were sad to say goodbye to Cape Town, it’s a fantastic city, loads to see and do, with a really good vibe, we’ve vowed to return some day to spend more time there and do it justice…you never know, England might end up playing here again if we’re lucky!

Our hire car turns up and I take the wheel and head out towards the Garden Route on the N2. We decide to stop off at Hermanus en route for some oysters and a spot of whale watching. Apparently there’s an oyster festival on and it’s the best place to see the Southern Right Whale.

Hermanus is a lovely little place and we find a restaurant carved out of a cave right by the sea, our table is situated about 10 feet from where the whales appear and three were here yesterday. We order some wild oysters and a couple of glasses of wine and look expectantly at the sea. Turns out there was a rush on oysters because of the festival and they’re fresh out, there must have been a rush on whales too and the three who delighted the crowds yesterday have gone all shy today. No matter though, despite the lack of oysters and whales we have a great lunch in the sunshine by the sea.

Back on the road towards Wilderness and it really is a beautiful route, with stunning scenery, everyone always talks about how great the Garden Route is and they’re not wrong.

We were hoping to reach Wilderness before it gets dark around 6pm though we have about a four and a half hour drive and it’s going to be tight. We arrive at Wilderness and duly follow our directions to Porcupine Pie Boutique Lodge, our home for the next two nights.

We find ourselves climbing higher and higher and the road turns into a track which then turns into a tiny gravel track and we’re starting to wonder whether we’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, it’s now dark and the track is too small to turn around on but I didn’t like to point that out to Andy. Suddenly we see some twinkling lights high up on the mountain in the distance and we guess that must be Porcupine Pie. We’re warmly greeted by John and a friendly golden lab called Saffron, John shows us to our lodge which is absolutely beautiful and nestled on the mountain on stilts to one side. Even though it’s dark we can just about make out the shape of the mountains from the large sundeck area which feels like it’s floating high above the ground, I can’t wait to see the view tomorrow. The lodge is mainly glass to one side and the bathroom is surrounded by glass so that you can sit having a candlelit bath and enjoy the mountain views…there are no neighbours up here.

John lets us know that dinner will be ready around 7.30pm and leaves us to get aquainted with our lovely lodge. We head over to the ‘lapa’ for a pre dinner drink, it’s another beautiful wooden building really tastefully done with glass all across one side and exposed rafters. John and Judy greet us and they’re perfect hosts, we enjoy gorgeous Mediterranean lamb shanks cooked by John and a sublime cherry dessert created by Judy, washed down with a good bottle of Porcupine red.

Great food, great wine and great company, we have a perfect evening before heading back to our lodge with another bottle of red to watch the second half of Ivory Coast vs Brazil.
Before bed we wrap ourselves in enormous fluffy blankets and go out on to our deck and enjoy a sky jam packed full of stars, it was magical!

We leave the curtains open and wake up early to catch the sunrise….WOW!

This place is breathtakingly STUNNING!!!

We couldn’t have imagined how beautiful it is here, in fact I can’t find the superlative to describe it, though yet again we thank our lucky stars that we found such a special place.

Breakfast was gorgeous and perfectly cooked by John and we get to meet Storm and Major two enormous blue Great Danes, lovely they are too!

We were planning on going out to tour the local area but it is simply too stunning to leave and as were slap bang in the middle of the Wilderness Nature Reserve we decide to spend a day exploring the surrounding mountains and forrests to make the most of every minute here.

Though before we borrow a couple of walking staffs and don a rucksack, Andy takes a call from Mike Liggins who works at Look East, the regional TV news station. Mike has been following Andy’s tweets and our blog and would like to try and set up a video link via Skype so that Andy can give his views regarding the England vs Algeria game for the news that evening. After a couple of non successful attempts and a search for a web cam we decide to film it on the iPhone and then send it to Mike, I’ve also managed to get my bit in too, much to Andy’s consternation and Mike successfully recieves a couple of video clips to use on the news later. Technology is a wonderful thing, four years ago in Germany we had difficulty posting a pic on a website now we can do everything we need to do, wherever we are in the World…amazing!

We spend a brilliant afternoon trekking down to the bottom of the valley (steep as anything, glad we brought the staffs), crossed the river by stepping stones and walked through the forest along wooden walkways attached the side of the mountain until we reached a beautiful waterfall, a perfect way to spend an afternoon.

Another gorgeous evening meal of superbly cooked Kudu with a chocolate chilli sauce (John has promised to give me the recipe but I’m not sure that Sainsburys is awash with Kudu) followed by Judy’s lovely light apple pie.

John and Judy had a struggle with the planning department when building Porcupine Pie but I’m mightlily pleased they succeeded in the end, it’s a magical place with just three lodges so it’ll never be overcrowded, they’ve just been given an award as an ideal honeymoon location, John is a superb chef and Judy is a talented artist and her lovely work adorns the walls. As John said, he loves cooking and loves people so this is an ideal lifestyle for them, their brilliant personal service and excellent hosting skills makes our stay extra special and you couldn’t wish to meet a lovlier couple.

John and Judy’s two daughters live very close to where we are in Kew so before leaving they have a picture taken with a Pether’s butchers bag to go up on the wall in the shop in Kew, which we’ll deliver when we get home.

We really don’t want to leave this magical place, but there’s the small matter of a football match to attend so leave we must.

I can’t recommend Porcupine Pie Lodge highly enough, if ever you’re anywhere near the African continent then make sure you go out of your way to visit…it really is superb in every way!

Check out those views: http://www.porcupinepie.co.za

Lots of emails and tweets about the Paynes being spotted on the Look East news last night, Andy’s still insisting that I’ve muscled in on his fledgling media moment ;o)

We’re on our Way to Port Elizabeth with butterflies doing River Dance in hobnailed boots in my stomach…come on England!

The Long Hard Fight for Freedom (Kirsty’s blog) Saturday 19th June published Wednesday 23rd June

What a wonderful city Cape Town is, we could have done with another week there to cram everything in that we’d like to do, we did however manage to squeeze in a trip in to Robben Island, very poignant it was too. It’s incredible to think that the horrific conditions suffered by Nelson Mandela and the other political prisoners was taking place as recently as the 1980’s. Sparks, an ex political prisoner showed us around the prison and explained the unbelievably harsh conditions they had to endure, being black meant that they had the lowest food rations despite working for eight hours a day mining rock, they also had no shoes or long trousers even in winter, no glass at the windows or heating in their massively over crowded communal barrack style cells where the rain would pour in, washing facilites were almost non exsistant, though perhaps the cruellest of all is the fact that asian and coloured prisoners were given bettter rations and more clothing but the black prisoners were treated worse than any human or indeed any animal should ever be treated.
They kept the political prisoners incarcerated with serious and violent criminals in the hope that it would criminalise them, when in fact it worked the other way round and the criminal prisoners became political activists and helped the cause on their release.

The whole trip was very moving, upsetting and at times made me angry that in our lifetime this kind of treatment of fellow human beings and racist persecution could have taken place. Sparks was an amazingly gentle man who now works at Robben Island alongside his previous prison guards and men who meted out punishment to him for more than seven years, having been imprisoned there as a young boy of nineteen. I find it extraordinary that he can now live and work alongside his previously cruel captors and has even become friends with some of them, that must take an enormous level of forgiveness, though as Sparks pointed out, apartheid is no more, he now has his freedom and his life…many many young men weren’t so lucky and lost their lives fighting for freedom.

Nelson Mandela and all of the political prisoners fought for many years for freedom from apartheid though I find their capacity to forgive and the creation of the Rainbow Nation the most amazing feat of all, I’m truly humbled by it.

We walked around the island, spotted penguins and ambled back to the boat in quiet contemplation of what life must have been like there and more than once I looked at Andy and saw tears rolling down his face.

Once on the boat a couple of girls sat behind us and one of them was American, now I must apologise to any American friends however she had a particularly high pitched, nasally and hugely annoying voice. She then proceeded to moan about absolutely everything, but the amazing thing was the pettiness of her griping…her cheese portion was too small, her washing wasn’t folded right, someone had a better TV in their room than her, when she asked for directions she felt the person could have given more detail, she didn’t like the way someone held a book, I kid you not! It was driving me insane and I suggested loudly to Andy that never mind water boarding, they could use this woman as a form of torture, she’d make the most secretive spy squeal like a pig

The most annoying thing was that she’d just been on exactly the same tour of the prison as us but obviously her hardship and suffering was far more important…selfish twit! (or indeed insert you’re own noun).

Off on the Garden Route tomorrow to find ourselves in the Wilderness…can’t wait.

Wednesday 23rd June (published 23rd June Andy’s blog)

After a dodgy night’s sleep I have woken up at 7am. Nervous, tense and frankly a little depressed. The adventure ends or starts today in reality as England are in the knock outs a game earlier than planned. Worries about over sleeping were needless, given we are under the flightpath to the airport and just the other side of the railway lines in the strip of land between shore and docks.

The local TV is dissecting Bafana Bafa exit from the World Cup and also theorising how the local population will take the situation. Talk of locals now reverting back to crime and ‘trying to make the most of the tourist Rand’ seem a little far fetched, but what do I know? Also plenty of talk about what will happen should England follow Bafana Bafana out of the competition, some commentators fearing mass riots and civil unrest! Not really sure that will happen, although it has done plenty of times in the past of course.

Breakfast is essential on match days given the uncertainty of when you will next eat and how much beer one can drink. The boys had had a good sleep, all bar Alan who had resorted to sleeping in the bath, given the unearthly sounds from the nostrils of Steve and Dave. Poor old Alan, he is by his own admission a ‘light sleeper’. At least everyone is still laughing, and Jack won’t stop nagging Steve about his jamjar.com deal. That is set to run and run…

Breakfast on the sea front – matchday -the World Cup – beers and laughs – what’s not to like? Other than it is England and we are in the docks!

At least this afternoon although a do or die game, win or go home, we will not have another ‘exit by penalty shoot out’. This fact alone gives me hope we will progress to the next round, play the Germans and start taking this World Cup seriously. England need big games. Fab has kissed John and made up, or maybe the other way round and I am sure David has given them both tips on man management and contrition. Lose to the Twin Peak shirted Slovenians and Terry and Capello will get hung out to dry. It really is as simple as that. Glad I am here and not at home where the atmosphere following yesterday’s budget will get even more depressed!

Tuesday 22nd June (published Wednesday 23rd June)

We had to say goodbye to our wonderful Wilderness retreat, which was simply amazing and our equally amazing hosts John and Judy and head 350kms to Port Elizabeth and the wonder of ‘Sir Roy’s at the sea’ (‘where everyone is treated like royalty’ ) our next port of call for a two or three night stay. We would like a three nighter, but there was no room at the inn on the day of the match, so we could be sleeping in the car. Hey ho, I have had worse places down the years.

The weather continues to astonish and the wet weather cum mountain hiking gear that we have brought with us remains neatly folded up in our bags. Yes it does get a little chilly at night once the sun goes down, but every day has been shorts and T-shirt weather, and this is winter!

The driving along the pictureseque Garden Route from Wilderness to Port Elizabeth is easy. Roads are new and straight as a die. It feels like the Romans have popped in to sort out the infrastructure. We stopped off in the rather wonderful coastal town of Knysna and had a plate of oysters and and a glass of white wine. Bliss. Knysna was the base for Denmark and the now hapless French and national flags of both teams were hanging off every lamp post. The boys had passed through earlier and seen the French football team’s coach which had had it’s tyres let down.

The only downside of our brief stop off was that we would be en route whist Bafana Bafana play their last game vs France in their version of mission impossible. Thus we were subjected to the rather interesting commentary on Radio 2000, official broadcaster of the FIFA World Cup and obviously part of the deal is to mention FIFA every 2 or 3 minutes, which, like all things FIFA from their over priced tat that poses as souvenirs to the face value of match tickets sold in US dollars to loyal fans, tedious. As if to symbolise the chaos in the French camp, the radio broadcast of ‘The Marseillaise’ was interrupted for 10 seconds with a complete blackout. When sound was restored, I could not recognise the tune. It turned out that the broadcast location had changed and we were hearing the second half of the Mexican national anthem! This then segwayed into the Uruguayan anthem, which sounds like it was written by Puccini or Mozart (listen to it at their next game and you will see where I am coming from!). The commentators out here get over excited, easily. It is impossible to know if a goal is scored, as even the tamest of attempts is accompanied by a roar. I thought Stephen Pienaar had scored when infact he had stabbed an effort tamely wide. As we all know Bafana Bafana went down fighting and were left to rue the two late and unneccessary goals conceded against Uruguay a few days earlier. It could have been so different.

We hit Port Elizabeth just as the game was ending and sought out Sir Roy’s. Our directions were good and finding it was easy. Better still, we were greeted by the lovely Wendy with news that yet again FIFA’s travel department had cancelled a room at 3pm that day and we were in luck and would have a bed the night of the game. FIFA’s greed knows no boundaries – everywhere we go hotel and guest house owners regale us with tales of FIFA’s inepitude and lack of consideration. All accomodation is marked up a minimum of 30% which no doubt helped them get to their 4 billion US Dollars profit on the World Cup 2010. 4 billion!!!

We wasted no time, checked in, admired the ‘sea views’ across the docks and railway junction and headed off to meet up with the Evas ( now three on account of Jack Minimus arriving) Dave and Swiss Jimmy. The snoring fever had not stopped, indeed Alan (‘Moany’ as he has now been christened by his brother) was not on parade, as he had done all the driving and was ‘tired’. The rest suggested that it was Moany’s turn to ‘go to bed early with a headache’ (ie get some light relief so to speak). Much laughter and ‘Carry On’ humour surrounds these code words.

We also needed to meet up with Dom, Simon, Chris and Keith ( who had arrived on Sunday and replaced Pilks). A few beers in the local bar (Finnezz) and we jumped a cab to seek out the others. We found them at Kelways – probably the worst bar I have been in since we came to South Africa. Full of overweight, lary, bovine English geezers and a local bloke on guitar,with several synthesisers and amps playing ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’, ‘Nights in White Satin’, ‘No Particular Place to Go’ and other such classics whilst the Argentina game played on in its own vacuum. Dom was being put to bed as he was very tired and Simon and Keith were weighing up their options, so to speak. I decided to leave and find somewhere else to eat and drink.

Lo and behold I only needed to look next door. ‘Blackbeard’s’ restaurant awaited, like a lone beacon of refuge on a foggy night. As soon as I descended the steps down to the ‘galleon entrance’, I got this weird déjà vu. I was entering the set of the 1968 Disney film ‘Blackbeard’s Ghost’ starring Peter Ustinov. Every detail was perfect, from ship’s wheels, rigging, cutlasses through to the Captain’s uniform. This was a time warp. The menu was confusing to say the least, a mix of nautical terms and cod (sorry!) phraseology with food items. The owner was overly obsequious a sort of nervous Basil Fawlty and if he had had a forelock, would no doubt have tugged it. Maybe he had lost his forelock through over tugging down the years. He clearly had some prawns and a T-Bone steak that were getting close to ‘sell by/best before’ as he insisted on showing these to everyone, hoverring over us, waiting on the slightest bit of positive body language as a sign of compliance. When I said ‘the steak looks great’, I did not actually mean ‘yes, I want that’. Ho hum. The others joined me for the second half.

The evening tailed off somewhat after Chris joined us, nothing to do with him, rather the fact that when the owner had asked Keith ‘if everything was to his satisfaction’, Keith a part time foodie replied ‘actually no. The mussels were gritty, the sauce had the consistency of refectory blancmange and the noodles were like worn shoelaces’. Basil Fawlty, immediately ‘sold’ Keith another plate of the finest prawns. With Bafana Bafana going out of the World Cup, every knocked back cover was a lost opportunity and this chap was a consumate salesman.

We bumped into a couple of lads later on in Blackbeard’s, Dave and Andy who we had met in Cape Town. T’s funny how small the world can be. Funnier still to see Dave enjoying a rather large T-Bone steak and Andy eating prawns. You have to hand it to Basil, he sold that T- Bone and its little pink friends. As salesmen always say, ‘it’s all about ABC’.