Wyn Drabble: Hanging out for Whipped Cream

I know there are people who are sick and tired of the subject I will dwell on today but I don't want them to worry because I am going to look after them.

It is not my intention to upset those who fail to appreciate millions of dollars being injected into the New Zealand economy, who don't appreciate people dressing up and having fun or towns being made vibrant (albeit for a limited period), who don't appreciate Kiwis coming together as a nation in a way that has probably not been seen since the red socks era.

I know I'm only guessing here but they may well be the same people who poo-pooed the whole Happy Feet affair, saying things such as: "It's only a sodding penguin, for crying out loud!"

Well, these people have rights too and my job as a responsible and PC journalist is not to upset them and turn them off reading this newspaper.

I know that there are three words which would make them close this newspaper if they read them so I will not be including them in this piece. Feel safe to read on.

I intend to refer tastefully to the event these people don't wish to read about by substituting three different words. I will refer to the event as Lemon Meringue Pie, to the trophy as Whipped Cream and to our team as Fresh Mint to Garnish. This should keep everybody happy and allow me to make a few comments about ... well ... Lemon Meringue Pie.

I enjoy Lemon Meringue Pie. In fact, I enjoy it so much that when the French served some up in 2007, I was there. I vividly remember Fresh Mint to Garnish wilting in Wales and Whipped Cream being handed to the jubilant South Africans in Paris.

I wasn't actually in Cardiff for that fateful game. I was in France with a group waiting for Fresh Mint to Garnish to play the big one in Stade de France. We regarded the Cardiff event as a mere stepping stone.

So, there we were in a bar in the Loire Valley, clutching our tickets to the final and watching this mere stepping stone on the big screen which had been brought in for the occasion.

Half of the patrons were dressed in black and the other half in blue, topped off with black berets.

The atmosphere was electric and as close to a live event as you could get.

Oh, how the faces of those dressed in black did wilt as the second half progressed!

And how their jaws did drop as the final whistle blew! I am reliving the horror as I type.

Oh, how the French did celebrate and wave their baguettes in the air! How the Kiwis did wave their Stade de France tickets in the air and offer them for a fair price!

Some were willing to trade a finals ticket for a baguette and a beret in good condition. Oh, all right - half a baguette and a beret in fair condition.

I have never seen a city buzz as much as Paris did on the night of the final.It positively throbbed and even though Fresh Mint to Garnish had wilted beyond saving, the excitement was something you could not fail to enjoy.

That buzz will be Auckland's soon but if we are not to suffer more international embarrassment, Auckland needs to fix up a few things.

The Paris metro is a tough system to have to compete with but one of its strengths is that the passengers don't usually walk along the tracks.

And, if Paris had harbour ferries, I'm sure the authorities would have worked out in advance where they were going to offload their passengers.

I'm sorry but I fear that Auckland will stuff up again during the final so it falls upon us in the provinces to make visitors feel welcome and send them home impressed and satisfied and overlooking whatever Auckland serves up.

Some of those people I mentioned in my opening sentence will now have worked out what I've been talking about and will soon stop reading so it's time to wrap it all up.

Let's celebrate and enjoy the excitement of the next few weeks and let's not forget that, like it or not, it's all thanks to Lemon Meringue Pie.

Let's tuck in and enjoy it and remember that a little Whipped Cream is not bad for you once in a while either.

Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, public speaker and musician.