Alright, so this France v Wales rugby match, yeah? I was properly buzzing for this one. Had it marked on the calendar for weeks. You know how some games just have that feel about them? This was one of them. My plan was simple: get some snacks in, head over to my mate Dave’s place. He’s got the big screen, comfy sofa, the whole nine yards. Perfect setup, or so I thought.
So, Saturday rolls around. I grab the crisps, the drinks, all the essentials. Head over to Dave’s, ready for some top-tier rugby. We get settled, switch on the telly, navigate to the streaming app… and then, nothing. Just that spinning wheel of doom. You know the one. That little circle just going round and round, mocking your very existence. Pure frustration, that was.
The Great Internet Disaster
We tried everything. Restarted the router – classic move, rarely works when you really need it to. Checked the internet speed on our phones; it was fine. The app itself seemed to be the issue. Kept saying “unable to connect” or some rubbish like that. Kick-off was looming, and the panic started to set in. Missing the start of France v Wales? Unthinkable!
Dave’s usually pretty chill, but even he was starting to pace a bit. We were frantically searching on our phones for alternative streams, but you know how dodgy some of those sites can be. Pop-ups everywhere, quality like watching potatoes fight. Not ideal for the intricate beauty of a well-worked try, is it?
I remembered my old tablet, thought maybe, just maybe, a different device might work.
So I dug it out, charged it up a bit, bless its old battery.
We tried:
- The same app – no luck.
- A different browser – still buffering like crazy.
- Even thought about listening on the radio, old school!
It felt like the universe was conspiring against us watching this specific match. We were about ten minutes from kick-off, and the stress levels were through the roof. I even considered just going to the pub, but by the time we’d get there, we’d have missed a chunk of the first half. What a nightmare, honestly.
Then, just as I was about to give up all hope and resign myself to text updates like some caveman, Dave had a brainwave. His neighbour, old Mrs. Higgins, always has the sports channels on the proper telly, no fancy streaming nonsense. He sheepishly suggested we could ask her. It was a long shot. I mean, gatecrashing an elderly lady’s quiet Saturday afternoon for rugby? Seemed a bit much.
But needs must, eh? So, Dave trotted next door, explained our predicament. And you know what? She was an absolute star! Invited us in, said she was watching the gardening program but didn’t mind a bit of rugby. There we were, me, Dave, and Mrs. Higgins, watching France v Wales on her slightly smaller, but perfectly functional, TV. She even offered us tea and biscuits. You just can’t make this stuff up.
The game itself was brilliant, by the way. Proper nail-biter. But the whole rigmarole of just getting to watch it? That’s what I’ll remember. Sometimes the simplest plans go completely sideways, and you end up in the most unexpected situations. Ended up being a pretty memorable afternoon, all thanks to a dodgy app and a very kind neighbour. Just goes to show, doesn’t it?
