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The glamour of the World Cup (52)

• Ben Dirs
• 27 Sep 07, 12:35 PM

St Etienne - Those of you who have been complaining about us wasting your hard-earned cash for the last three weeks will be delighted to know that we awoke this morning in an industrial estate to the tune of hailstones ricocheting off the roof of The Bloggernaut.

And as we weaved our way through the breathtaking Rhone Valley on Wednesday, , comparisons with the west coast of Ireland became irresistible. Marseille this isn’t.

So a word of advice to any Scotland fans flocking to the city for the : if you’re going to dig out the , make sure the old fella’s afforded plenty of protection underneath.

Also, if you don’t own a campervan and you haven’t booked into a hotel, I can see your future: it involves either a campsite 20km out of town, a night dossing on the floor of a mate’s room or a few hours curled up in a bus shelter in Baltic conditions. Hope that’s cheered you all up.

Last night we saw and, once again, despite the icy chill and sweeping drizzle at the brutalist Stade Geoffroy Guichard, the locals were out in force.

We have now seen Michael Jones’ boys in action twice while there is a possibility that we won’t see England at all if they stumble against Tonga on Friday. Who said the ´óÏó´«Ã½ was Anglo-centric?

Although Samoa’s three post-match ‘hakas’ brought the house down, I couldn’t help feeling impatient for juicier, more meaningful clashes.

Cue Scotland v Italy on Saturday, and you have to think the Scots will have enough grunt to progress. They should also be able to count on more support than they had in Edinburgh last weekend, which is an odd thought.

promises to be crackerjack match-up and one that I expect the Pumas to win.

The South Americans strike me as one of the most well-balanced sides in this tournament - muscular up front and bristling with attacking intent out back. Ireland look like they’ve been drugged.

We are now on the road to Lyon, where, given the dire hostelry situation in St Etienne, we have decided to spend the night.

Indeed, so exhaustive have our travels been that I am beginning to lose my wits. When Tom asked me to locate the stadium in the media guide last night, I momentarily forgot what city we were in.

There are also the first signs I am falling out of love with France. This morning, fed up of baguettes that go stale before you’ve got them out of the door of the boulangerie, I purchased a sliced ‘Americana’ loaf, pillow soft and packed with preservatives. Love it.

There are some things, however, that I will never fall out with and following Tom’s heroic ascent up Mont Ventoux on Monday, I hit back in the only way I know how.

I went out and bought the most rancid wheel of cheese I could find and it’s currently in the fridge chatting away with a particularly spicy saucisson. They’re probably taking the rise out of Tom’s vest collection.

The upside of the miserable weather is that Tom will hopefully start using his vests as vests, just like proper men do. The downside is that France, for the moment at least, feels just like England.

Ben Dirs is a ´óÏó´«Ã½ Sport journalist travelling around France in a camper van with Tom Fordyce.

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