Scotland 31 – England 20. Gregor Townsend’s men parade the Calcutta Cup for the 7th time in 10 years.
On Saint Valentine’s day, the roses are no match to the revenging thistles.
Euphoric celebrations bellow from turf to stands; we send them homeward tae think again.
Our sacred Saint Andrews saltire stands tall in the northerly gale, the trampled St George’s cross ravels into pockets and climate-controlled basements.
Glasses are clinking, and the bar tenders’ pits are dripping, Mr Russell’s boot has given license, and the punters’ initial 80 minutes of nationalism inebriates long into the night.
Forth One remixes their playlist, the lyrics of Love me like you do, and Call me Lover are tailored swiftly to Mrs Macdonald’s and Mr Nutini’s Caledonia and Iron Sky.
Crowds’ chanter in the breweries, the publics ear drums increase their decibels in their shuttles, couples smooch in between their cranachan’s.
Those of a different persuasion such as myself tighten their knots and tread across the capital’s grass attempting to replicate Mr Jones gazelle god speed.
I gently trod along the crevasse of the capital’s long hibernating magma, then while gazing westwards my pupils bulge at the attraction of the lightening of Edinburgh’s historical standing.
My aorta beats faster, and my muscles contract as I stride with vengeance seeking to overtake Mr Douglas’s killing fields strava crown.
Amidst the dimming light, the glint of the golden boy aloft of Auld Reekie’s Old College, and stonework of the castle radiate a passage of light for my cadence to the fringes of the royal palace.
On return from my restfulness, on my darker eastwards rep I ponder if the city has missed an opportunity to rejoice in the earlier Murrayfield massacre.
No Saltire’s can be seen behind Queen Arthur and there is a sheet of darkness carpeted over the back door of King Charles secondary bed and breakfast.
The cities hierarchy has passed on the chance to exhibit its gratitude towards our egg playing men with a live saltire from our chateau, thereby maintaining its political flag waving neutrality, with the Union flag.
Or perhaps the royal guards are sharp sports enthusiasts and subtly trying to remind the public that England also won a Calcutta Clash, ok well Kolkata tussle. https://www.skysports.com/cricket/news/12123/13507417/t20-world-cup-england-beat-scotland-by-five-wickets-to-boost-super-8-qualification-hopes-after-tom-banton-impresses
However, most of us Scots won’t bat an eyelid at a cricket result, and we will rightly remind our English collegaues of the scoreline that matters.
