Ra Ra Rugby

When The (Not So) Small One announced she had spent lunchtime at "Chanting Practice", we were intrigued. She has never struck us as much of a zen goddess. Too much going on.

"It was for the match," she said, with as much wither as she could muster. "The Rugby."

More Echo Park Charming and some Dear Lizzy thickers from Gotta Craft

Aah. Every year the schools round here compete for a cup. The Grand Final is in March and the rivalry is mighty. Most often it's two of the big city schools up against each other by the end. They take it very seriously and the supporters do too.

"Will there be pompoms?" asked Uncle Dave, "and ra-ra skirts?"

We have reached the Final. It's scheduled for next week. I'll watch and it will take me right back. When I was in my last year at school our little country team reached the Final too. It's a special memory because no other team from my school has ever equalled that feat. It was big, big, big news in town The boys had their profiles in the paper and the uniform shop sold out of school scarves.

They tell me it was a blast. I wasn't there. I had to fly out of the country for a college interview. I was reduced to standing in a call box at the airport while my Grandma gave me a running commentary from the televised coverage. I knew she'd be watching. She liked boys in shorts as much as we did. The following night I was still in my hotel room, miles from home. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be at the celebration commiseration party. Watching a boy in a band.

I'm sure nothing has changed. This year, too, there will be a party and a band and a lack of school scarves. The kids are still talking about college and the shorts are still on show. It's all over so quickly. But they'll remember it forever.