They buy our homes and live in them for a fortnight every year. What have they given us? Absolutely nothing. We’ve been exploited, raped, controlled and punished by the English – and that’s who you are playing this afternoon.’ Phil Bennett, Cardiff Arms Park (1977) THE SUCCESS OR OTHERWISE of a London Welshman’s visit to the Millennium Stadium is subject to various variables. Time of kick-off. Identity of match companion(s). Quality of opposition. Weather. State of the rail network. Team selection. Current level of knowledge of words of the anthem. Side of bed key players got out of. Capacity of bladder. Luck/lack of same. Availability of Shane. Anxiety about getting a seat on the train back. The journey begins at Paddington. With each stop the train decelerates along platforms lined with red-shirted clusters of the Diaspora. Carriages fill. We slip under the Severn and emerge into the land of our fathers, the hills rising out of the north-facing window. By Newport there is standing room only as the corridors are cramped with gentlemen of all ages, sizes and states of inebriation.
