Chapter 23: Rugby, Fish, and Chips

I was looking forward to watching the final of the Rugby World Cup at a bar in Gibraltar. Lord Nelson's is known in Gibraltar for being a rugby bar, and I had watched a couple of earlier matches with Diego, including Scotland winning, and losing, spectacularly.

The Lord Nelson Pub

As with the semi-final, Diego and I had a bet. I was sticking with South Africa, Diego favoured New Zealand. Unfortunately I was unable to watch the game, as I was violently ill due to something I ate that disagreed with me. When I eventually returned to the land of the living, I saw a text from Diego saying South Africa had won again, by 1 point. They had done this 3 games in a row. I called the bet null and void though, since we didn't actually watch the game, which was the whole point of the bet.

I was stuck in bed for the final.

A couple of weeks later, with no more rugby matches to watch (since the end of the World Cup), Diego and I were lamenting this, while having dinner in Casemates Square. We were at a restaurant called Café Solo, which we decided is the best restaurant for Fish and Chips. I later amended this to the best restaurant for Fish only (or solo, ha ha!). The chips aren't chips in the British sense, they are French fries. We felt if you combined the chips from Lord Nelson's, with the Fish in Solo, you'd have a perfect meal. This reminded me that I had seen an advert promoting Lord Nelson's screening of Premier League Rugby (a weekly English club tournament). Poking at my French Fries (or 'Freedom Fries' - as I've heard them called by Americans at times of foreign policy disagreement with France), we checked the fixtures on our phones and agreed to watch a match that Sunday.

Café Solo - A good place for a solo Fish.

When we arrived at Lord Nelson's on Sunday, they weren't showing the game, but had loud House music on (I'm not sure why it's called 'House' music, as it's not music I would listen to in my house!). We had to beg them to put the rugby game on by agreeing to buy food and drink, and even tell them which channel it was on. So although the bar advertised they were showing the tournament, clearly the staff hadn't got the memo. It was an exciting game though between Exeter and Bristol, and we enjoyed the chips. However, when we went back the following weekend (on a Friday night), it turned into a grim night.

The Lord Nelson bar inside. 

We again had to beg the staff to show the game, and even though there were hardly any customers in the bar, they wouldn't put the sound on for us. Instead they had to have their dreadful music on, which tonight was Indie. I quite like some Indie groups, but it's not the most cheerful, ready for the weekend, music. I remember an episode of the TV comedy Father Ted, where Father Ted cures a priest's depression by playing the theme tune from the film Shaft. The priest is then all happy, and gets back on the bus to his church, only to be depressed again, because the bus driver has an Indie song on the radio (by the depressing band Radiohead). My mood however got worse when they turned the Indie off, and instead brought out a live band. Now, normally I love a live band, but not when: firstly I go out with the express purpose to watch a game; secondly when they are bloody loud and can't sing. The lead singer screeched so much she made my ears bleed! My this stage I had lost all interest in the game and just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Clearly, despite advertising they show this tournament, and even having a big sign promoting Gibraltar Rugby on their wall, it's not really a rugby bar. With this in mind, I reluctantly went back one Sunday afternoon with Diego to watch a game. This happened to be on Remembrance Sunday, and the bar was full of soldiers. They might well have enjoyed a game of rugby, but were instead defended by House music! So we left to find another bar, and wandered around various bars in Ocean Village, but most were only showing the football. Then we came across an American Sports bar, that had several TVs, and were happy to put the rugby on for us. I didn't bother ordering chips, thinking in an American bar I would definitely get 'Freedom fries', but I looked at their menu (only wanting a snack as I'd already had lunch) and saw they had apple pie. What's more American than apple pie? It was great, just like 'Mom' used to make, and the bar was a great place to watch the game.

My new go-to bar.

So the irony is, if you want to watch a British game in Gibraltar (a country that prides itself on being British), seek out the Americans. If only the Americans could learn how to do chips!

America - good at sport.