Rome and hosed

I went to Rome for the biennial Peroni, Pasta and Piazza Pilgrimage not feeling overly confident of a Welsh victory as the warm glow of the win in Paris had quickly dissipated.
Friday was reserved for the tourist bit and we enjoyed a rather cold and breezy tour of the sights on the obligatory open top bus. For all that it was enjoyable and was punctuated by a nice lunch in the Piazza Navona. It might have been cool and grey but at least the forecasted rain didn't appear.
The rain did appear the next morning, however, just as we were strolling down to the Colisseum for a breath of fresh air. As if by magic, hundreds of umbrella salesmen appeared. You could barely walk 10 yards without one of them looking at you pleadingly. I resisted their sales patter feeling sure that the rain would surely stop before too long. The rain if anything got heavier annd we had to take refuge indoors until it was time to catch the metro to Piazza de Popolo and thence the tram out to the Stade Olympico. It was still pouring down as we stood in the queue for the tram with our fellow Welsh supporters. The Italians did not think that joining the queue was necessary and caused bad feeling by pushing in. Funny that, since queue seems a particularly Latin looking word. I was moved to ask the price of an umbrella - 5 euros for a small one, 10 euros for a large one it seemed. Looking around it was clear that the umbrellas were not of the highest quality. A quick calculation told me that the umbrellas were costing approximately a euro per minute - not really an economic prospect. A man standing next to us was left holding just the handle when a  gentle puff of wind blew the top part away. There were discarded umbrellas everywhere. Funny that, since umbrella seems a Latin sort of word.
We eventually squeezed on to a tram and were deposited a fair walk from the stadium. The stadium was certainly impressive but not ideally suited to the weather conditions. Our seats were just under the very edge of the roof and so we were subjected every now and then to a bombardment of heavy drips. It was certainly a distinct improvement to Stade Flaminio though.
So to the match. Right from the off we looked the stronger side and yet it took a long time for us to pull clear. The weather was awful so it was never going to be a festival of running rugby. We never really felt completely confident of a victory until Cuthbert's try. Our pack was strong and Mike Phillips kept the Italian back row occupied. Defensively we were excellent and stopped the Italians getting up any kind of momentum. We got the job done and I think everyone would have settled for a 17 point margin of victory before the game. So cause to celebrate.
Some time later we found ourselves in an Irish bar watching the England v France game. For just a moment or two it looked like a French victory. That would have elevated it from a good day to a great day. It wasn't to be, however, and it looks like it is definitely down to us to stop the English. We will have to go up a few gears to do that - perhaps Scotland will take it easy on us when they recognise the task that we have. After all, can the country afford to give all those players an MBE if they win the Grand Slam?