Sweat and booze: inside the enemy
While most enjoyed their Roses, Venetia Rainey decided to explore the view from the ‘other side’
Most people will have relaxed over their weekend, lazing about watching the sport, or else being not so lazy and actually playing.
My task was to report on the social side of the weekend, especially from the Lancaster point of view. However, with the big matches being played on Saturday and Sunday, most Lancastrians were on a strict drinking ban, and thus were unable to go out. Despite this disappointment, there was plenty of fun to be had both on and off the pitch.
The weekend began with the arrival of the bleached-blonde Lancastrian rugby team. At a loss to understand why they had dyed their hair the colour of the York rose (it really was that peroxide), I later found out that it had been done “for unity, to make us stand out.” Apparently they didn’t dye it red because “that would look stupid”.
At Roses D, I was quickly approached by a fat student from the Lancaster side who assured me in slurred tones that the rugby team “were a bunch of girls”. He didn’t seem too sure whether he was talking about Lancaster or York, or in fact the girl’s rugby team.
The next day was grey, but luckily for me the banter was much better than the weather and I was approached by a Lancaster footballer whose chat-up line was: “Oh, look, we’re both wearing aviators! We should be sunglasses twins.” We began to exchange information about all the normal things students talk about: degree subject (“I study birds, you know, girls. It’s called ornithology”), extra-curricular activities, (“I used to be a model, but I gave up my life of modelling to give something back to the community”), and, of course, last night’s lashage: “Between us, we pulled about 15 girls last night. I got these ulcers in my mouth after kissing one of them and I got them downstairs as well.”
By Sunday, I thought that the best place to go would be the Rugby 1sts match. Apart from our defeat (we battled hard throughout) and a fat, rather unappealing Lancastrian streaker, there was nothing. The football provided some pitch-side banter and some general good fun, but the wind proved too much for most, and once all the matches had finished, everyone headed back home.
As a last resort, I attended the Roses closing ceremony where the trophies were handed out. We managed to chat to some of the Lancaster girl’s rugby team (who, by the way, are really not as ugly as they look on pitch), and get their comment on the weekend: “We’ve had a really good weekend. The Roses Ball was awesome, but it wasn’t worth 20 quid though. Oh yeah, and the rugby old boys are sleazy gits.” Oh, how I concur, Lancaster.
Roses, all in all, was a brilliant weekend. If I hadn’t been running around worrying about Lancaster, I expect I would have enjoyed it even more. For future AU organisers, I would suggest leaving a whole night free for everyone to socialise at a less expensive, good old mingling-orientated York event. Who knows, maybe I’ll even play a sport next time round; at least it will get me into the dressing room.
