The Quest to Meet Dan Carter (3): T minus 1 day 20 hours and 13 minutes

Right then.

I've only got two more night's sleep and a few more hours of pesky work standing between me and the opportunity to meet my favourite rugby hunk du jour, the lovely Dan Carter.

So far I've hatched a few plans, realised I run the risk of degenerating into a desperado and have pulled myself back from the brink of transforming into a female version of Alan Partridge.

I spoke with my Dad last night (as we are going to watch the rugby at Twickenham together) and we have formulated a plan of action for the trip.  Well, my Dad knows about the plan up until about point number 7:

1. Set off from my house at 8am.
2. While away the time on the tedious drive down the M1 by eating sweets, listening to Chris Rea (my Dad's choice) and stopping off at Newport Pagnell services for a quick wee.
   

The sun always shines at Newport Pagnell
3. Arrive in the Twickenham area (traffic permitting) by about 12pm.
4. Park the car and tuck in to the lovely selection of sandwiches I made before we set off.  (Arse.  Must remember to do that before we leave).
5. Laugh at my Dad as he tries to make a brew on a gas camping stove in gale force winds with a comedy camping kettle.
6. Take it all back as the brew tastes lovely.
   

Surprisingly useful
7. Head to the stadium at approximately 12:30pm.
8. Get a pie.
9. Pester my Dad to go to the players entrance.
10. Get annoyed with him when he drags me to the shop to buy an England umbrella instead.
11. Sulk for 5 minutes before realising that I am in a SHOP and I have my credit card with me.
12. Buy some England branded tat.
    

I won't be buying this really. 
13. Have a bit of a wander around.  Try to drag my Dad to the players entrance.  Fail.
14. Sulk again.
15. Tell my Dad that he's rubbish and I might have to revert to plan B and pass him off as Bill Beaumont if he doesn't co-operate.
16. Successfully arrive at the players entrance only to realise it's now 1:15pm and that they've already arrived.
17. Decide to go to the bar instead (as my Dad is driving) and drink some wine.
    
    

Please numb the pain of what is to come...
18. Drink some more wine.
19. Realise it's nearly time for kick off and that I need another wee.
20. Queue for what seems like 5 hours for the ladies.
21. Take our seats at 2:15pm
22. Watch the game.
23. Get depressed.
24. Leave.
25. Drive back listening to 'Big Country' with me suffering from a mild hangover.

Hmm.  Yes I think that's how it will probably go, but then again you never know.

I'm still hopeful.