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Me and my big mouth. While watching the last France/Scotland Six Nations rugby match on telly round at neighbour Christian's way back in February, I casually mentioned that it'd be rather a wizard wheeze for us to visit Murrayfield for next year's Scotland/France game. Only really said it as a bit of a joke, never once thinking Christian would take the idea seriously. But a couple of weeks ago he mentioned that the game was scheduled for 7th February, thereby suggesting that he was quite keen on going. In order to put him off a bit, I told him tickets were gold dust but I'd look into it. Then, down at the market last week, Isabelle asked if she should find out about getting Christian a passport, just in case I managed to get match tickets. The whole thing had snowballed. Too late to say I wasn't really serious about going. Time for action.

Kicked off by looking for tickets on the internet. Visited a few dubious ticket agency sites where they were asking silly money with no real guarantee of delivery. No way, Jose (where are the damned accents?!). Then accidentally stumbled into the official Scottish Rugby site where I was amazed to find one could book face value ticket vouchers on a first come, first served, basis (I'm a mere novice in this ticket game - I thought tickets were only available to rugby club members). Immediately booked two 70 quid tickets.

Then went to the RyanAir site to book a couple of seats on the Limoges-Edinburgh flight. Disaster! Fully booked a week either side of match day! So checked various alternatives. Snapped up a RyanAir Limoges-Stansted flight, followed by an EasyJet Stansted-Edinburgh flight a few hours later which would get us into Edinburgh at around 6pm Friday (match on Sunday). For the return journey, I booked a Monday afternoon Edinburgh-Stansted flight and a Wednesday morning Stansted-Limoges flight, thus giving us a day in London, staying at Georgie and Don's in Putney.

So, with match and flight tickets booked, I needed to find somewhere for us to stay. Checked out various Edinburgh hotels and b&bs. Seemed all the cheapos were already full (not that there were any cheapos - they all whack their prices up during match week), so I was now faced with the likelihood of booking a room at some posh hotel at a cost of anything up to 250 quid each a night. That could be 750 quid each! No way, Jose; Jock, rather. After much feverish internet surfing, I eventually tracked down a cheapish guest house on the edge of town and booked their last room: a twin sharing. My relief at finding somewhere was only matched by the terrible thought of sharing with Christian. We'd be on top of each other for days on end - enough to drive both of us crazy. Nothing for it but to continue searching for two single rooms. Must be some somewhere at a non-extortionate rate. Eventually turned up trumps at a little hotel in the middle of town: two rooms at 50 quid each a night, including breakfast. Bargain. Immediately booked 'em and cancelled t'other one. Job done. It had only taken a couple of days! Only?!

Told Christian the good news last week. Looked a bit stunned, though excited as well. After all, he's never flown, never been abroad (apart from once when he had to briefly drive his lorry into Germany), never been to an international rugby match, can't speak English, worried about 'English' food, extremely worried about catching swine 'flu and, above all, he's incredibly concerned about not being able to get any of that foul drink Ricard.

Should be an interesting trip.

(Just found this 1990 clip. Great match. Great win. I was there!)