Last night I went down a pub by Liverpool Street Station to watch the Rugby World Cup semi-final match of England vs. France. My knowledge of rugby is mediocre at best, but I followed pretty well. Some strange observations though. Throughout the match, a manly man would bellow, "Swing lowwwww" and everyone would continue with "...sweet chariot / Coming for to carry me home" and so on. It's a puzzling choice for a rugby song in the middle of a crowded pub, because "Sweet Low, Sweet Chariot" is a spiritual folk song once sung by field slaves circa the United States in the late 1800s, and I first heard it in my Blues class at Georgetown. Also, it's a favorite of my nephews Ty and Zach. It seems that the Brits borrow a lot of music from Americans and I think, why? It's not like they're lacking in material.

There were some French fans at the pub and the British crowd was surprisingly receptive to their obnoxious "Viva la France!" cheers. I think the Brits just knew that they could probably take out the entire French crowd with a collective punch and didn't bother to react. Judging solely from the crowd at the pub, it wasn't hard to believe that the British have beaten the French in almost every major battle of history. The French were perhaps better looking, slimmer, and more stylish, but hey, looks don't win wars. The Brits were big and burly and slammed their fists on the tables. Before the match started, I asked my biggest male friend to protect me if England lost... or won.

I had a great seat and was in the midst of everything. When England won and people dropped and shattered pints of Guinness, I only suffered beer thrown in my air and on my shirt, a small price to pay for a genuine London experience. Perhaps the only blip in my so-called genuine experience was my McDonalds run at the half. I was STARVING from only eating an apple, banana, and chicken samosa the entire day and was going to pass out or get drunk quickly from my pint if I didn't find food. (Note to my parents: this is my a typical level of starvation thus far. Yes. I will guilt you).

We went to a different pub after the game and I was given a pint instead of a half-pint I ordered and so, paid the appropriate price, financially and physically. An empty stomach is no good. I have to say... I have no girl-friends in London. I am the girl in the midst of guys in almost every activity, except rock climbing, and of course, I am accosted for struggling to finish a pint. When I finally prove myself by finishing, I am bought another. Haha. It's all in fun though and it's a good time. I can't complain, because it's great to have some Gtown guys here.

Alright. I need to get the hell out of here. I've been choking down a terrible TV dinner for lunch and I can't bear it any more. My plan is to return to Soho for the third time in 3 days and acquire utensils and even a bowl and plate if I'm lucky.