30 April - The last train to Twickers
I’ve
not gone to Twickenham to watch the rugby for about four years. It had become
progressively less attractive and the end came when I had the misfortune to sit
in front of a bunch of Hooray Henries with no interest in the game, talking
incessantly and complaining that a round of drinks cost more than £80. I was
paddling in beer and so much went down the back of my friend’s coat that
she said she would probably have to throw it away.
Then a week ago sports mad Geoffrey phoned to ask if I would accompany him to a
match for £41. In a weak moment I said OK and he went away and set up an account
so that he could buy three tickets, the third for mutual friend Helen.
Geoffrey is a technophobe. I once ordered Amazon to send him an HDMI lead when
he mistakenly believed his new TV was receiving HD from his Sky box via SCART. He called
in a television engineer to plug it in.
Despite his apprehensions he managed to open an account and his order for three tickets was confirmed.
He forwarded Twickenhamְ’s email to me.
I read it carefully while he had not so he didn’t know that he had to transfer
one ticket to my phone and another to Helen’s. Anyone with more than one ticket on his phone would not be admitted and
it demanded that every attendee must own a Smart Phone.
Geoffrey wasn’t told that, or maybe didn’t read the small print, before he parted with his money. We both agreed that if
that had been known in advance we would have stayed at home.
How would a technophobe transfer the tickets? The email said he would be sent
instructions on Thursday. Meanwhile both Helen and I installed the Twickenham App on our phones.
It was fairly straightforward although why it had to send a six figure security
code to my phone and later a different code by email I have no idea. The App only asked for one of them.
I was rewarded with a Success message and awaited Thursday.
Geoffrey rang on Thursday to say three tickets were now on his phone with a
transfer link to mine. How did it know that one of the tickets was for me? I had
not put his name into my App and vice-versa. I wondered if it had
scanned our Contact Lists but that didn’t explain why there was no transfer link to Helen.
My ticket transferred OK when Geoffrey nervously clicked his button.
Helen reinstalled her App and she now has a ticket too. We may be getting used to
the fact that no one can live a full life unless they can afford a Smart
Phone but Twickenham’s system is a step too far.
What would happen if Helen left her phone on a bus last Wednesday? Geoffrey
would be left with two tickets on his phone and I would be forced to go to Twickenham alone.
As I said to Geoff who had offered to foot the whole bill if things went
totally rugby ball shaped, it would be worth me losing £41 to not go to Twickenham.
Batteries permitting we will see today’s match but we have all agreed that as
soon as we are out three Apps along with my specially set up rugby@ email
address will be deleted and none of us will set foot inside the Twickenham Stadium ever again.
P.S. In the event we saw a good couple of matches, at least
I think they were, we couldn’t see it all because of the amount of standing up
by over-enthusiastic supporters. That and the
amount of vaping going on. Where I was sitting almost no one was not sending clouds of sickly smelling
vapour into the air. I suppose it is to be expected if you attend an Army versus Royal Navy match.
The crowd was about 50:50 male and female, a situation for which Twickenham Stadium is totally
ill-equipped. The women were pouring into the gents toilets.
The transport arrangements for getting home made for an unbelievably horrible experience and confirmed my
expectation that I will never go there again. By some miracle I got a seat on
the train to Waterloo and used the time to delete my Twickenham Stadium App.
The price discrepancy that you may have noticed above was caused by Geoffrey
making a voluntary donation to who I do not know during the booking process.