ON SATURDAY night I had a dream that Wales had won at Twickenham and with no Cardiff train in sight we thousands of Welsh supporters marched on London’s Trafalgar Square.
We sang Welsh hymns and arias and danced in every fountain there. Despite my arthritic knees I scaled Nelson’s column and wrapped my rampaging Welsh Dragon flag around his sadly sagging frame.
At last, our red clad hordes happily boarded at Paddington, a Cardiff train, still singing.
Bemused bystanders at every train stop were serenaded with Cwm Rhondda et al, the singers still clutching and waving souvenirs of Welsh defiance in facing more injuries...
Passing Bath’s Rugby Grounds we tried to stand en masse for a minute’s silence in homage to Bath’s great input to England’s rugby team.
Finally travelling through our own blessed land we slept and snored upon the floor, arias exhausted, in our true belief that the revered Great Gatland would lead us safely through the Welsh injuries problems.
Awaking from my dream, I realised dreams can come true even without a little help from our transport services, and an outstanding performance contributed by the entire Welsh rugby outfit.
Congratulations.
Joan Briggs
Pontypool
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