a Bex, a cup of tea, and a good lie down.

Tourists,

As the Good Lady Wife cranked up the motor to tackle The Deadly Hume, had a bad feeling in my water that proceeding to Canberra was 'a long way to go to lose'.
Still had the feeling right up to the final siren, and then experienced wonderful relief.
Now there's a good feeling.
Manuka Oval is little more than a suburban cricket/football ground with it's collection of higgeldy-piggeldly little stands; the Robert Menzies, the Don Bradman, and the Bob Hawke, teamed with the Jack Fingleton Scoreboard [relocated from the MCG in 1982].
The board wasn't exactly a hive of information, showing the score only on its vast expanse of possibilities.
Welcome to historic Makuka Oval, the sign said.
Not much historic about it that could be seen at first glance, apart from the fact that they first put a picket fence around the joint in 1929.
Marked out on Burley Griffen's gin-soaked plans.
The place is not without charm, to be sure.
Principally it's trees.
The place was planted with English Oaks, Elms and Cypress all around the wide outer perminter behind the stands and terraces from the moment the place was begun to be built, so in the summer at the cricket, people could circulate around the ground in comfort under generous shade.
They are very large specimens now, and in the winter the modern day OH&S people would be having a fit, with patrons a'slippin' and a'slidin' on the masses of dropped acorns that have been ineffectively broomed off the asphalt paths onto the massive roots of the 90 year old trees.
There wouldn't be many grounds in this country where flurries of autumn leaves in all those shades from red to yellow drift and float across the oval in a gentle breeze while the game is being played.
A few moments of surrealism could be had if you were that way inclined.
Had the feel of this strange game being set down in the English countryside.
They intend to spend millions on re-development in the short term to welcome the Western Sydney Pygmies next year; but you can't see that team pulling massive crowds, so why fix it if it's not broke?
The catering arrangements reminded me very much of Leichhardt Oval; another of the last civilised football grounds in the world.
The $5.50 Carlton Draught came in ice cold tins with no need for the useless silliness of a plastic cup.
No pouring means no queues, which is very much appreciated by the drinkers, as they don't have to miss much of the game standing in a beer line.
The full gamut of baked goods was on offer; sausage rolls, pasties, plain pies plus the added luxury of Meat & Mushroom pies, all out of the thermo-nuclear industrial-style pie warmer.
Add in the hot chips and you have all the food groups.
Brilliant!
Having a smoke was unneccesarily complicated in that you were supposed to get a pass out and exit the ground to a degrading penned off area on the footpath just outside.
The only problem with that was that you weren't allowed to take a drink out with you, and lets face it there is no point in having a ciggy at the footy unless you have your favoured tipple to hand.
So, the regulations were largely and sensibly ignorned as people just had a smoke underneath the oaks out the back of the stands, not bothering anyone or making a nuisance of themselves.
No one cared, least of all the security guards who were for the most part asleep in their deck chairs.
Being pushed around and told what to do in the name of officialdom while trying to have a good day out does tend to get on people's goat.
A line should be drawn in the sand of common sense, but oh, don't make me carry on like a pork chop.
One of the more interesting features at Manuka are the dressing rooms under the Menzies Stand with glass walls on two sides, affording the paying public a clear view of what's going on inside.
The 'Dogs taped up tarps around theirs, so they couldn't be seen, but the Swans didn't bother.
A large mob of female fans of footballing flesh gathered around the windows peering in [the GLW had pushed her way in to front and centre, needless to say]; there was much giggling and comments like: "oh my god, isn't he gorgeous?", "oooh, he's just so pretty", "aaw, he's always been my favourite"; you know the sort of thing.
However, on surveying the scene, one girl of about 10 y-o had a different, more prosaic view..."gee, Dad, they look like caged animals in there".
Perched ourselves in the 'cheap' seats in the little concourse in front of the Menzies Stand so the sun began to set behind our backs, two bays along from the Sydney bench.
Couldn't believe that the field glasses had been left at home or that it was my fault.
Manuka Oval is a huge ground - the playing arena at 179m x 150m being slightly bigger than the dimensions of the MCG!
With failing eyesight it's difficult from a low-raked elevation to make out the player's numbers plates on the other wing at well over a hundred yards away.
After the US Ambassador tossed the coin, things didn't auger well from the off, with the visitors making a litany of unforced errors as they adjusted to the paddock; caught short and overunning the ball - if you miss the pill on the ground here you will be punished.
Letting four goals to zip in, in the early part, wasn't what you'd call a promising start in what was always going to be a low scoring game, and they were lucky to get out of it just a goal behind at the first break.
My water wasn't feeling any better.
Nothing much at all happened in the second quarter as the game looked more and more like park football on a Saturday afternoon.
Sydney brained the homeside in the Championship Quarter and, it was, for all intents and purposes, game over on the wide open spaces - or should have been.
A strong Footscray comeback saw the fingernails bitten back to the cuticles, yet again, and the fat lady didn't sing until the final minutes.
The general consensus of opinion on the terraces after the last hooter viz-a-viz the Brownlow votes was 3. Rhino, 2. Train, 1. Teddy.
Rhino had a corker of a game after last week having a shocker being ground into the dust by Judd, and Teddy was as solid as a brick wall at full back, and even got away with a very heavy shirt front at the tribunal.
It was one of those days when The Goodes Train was on song, making the hardest ball game of all look like it was so easy.
Fleet of foot, as if his old legs had left him and didn't bother him anymore, dodged most tackles with a jink and a step, as would be tacklers were shrugged off or flicked away like annoying insects; took a couple of big hits but just got up and dusted himself off, kicked long, marked strong, booted a timely goal - but most impressively, had the ball on a string - all day.
Mummy might have got the last Brownlow point with a bustling display doing what he does best - throwing his weight aound, but made one too many mistakes for mine.
The odds before the game on Spida Jnr and the Canadian Mountie being the leading goal scorers would have been astronomical, surely?
Little surprise that innacuracy in front of the big sticks in the form of 13 behinds would be enough to bring home the bacon in the final paralysis.
As we left the ground found myself bursting into song among a group of Bulldogs supporters, bellowing out the old English soccer hymn...
"what's it like? what's it like? what's-it-like-to-lose-at home? What's it li-ie-ike to-oo loo-se at-home?"
Don't know what came over me.
Bulldogs people looked unimpressed, while a scattering of Swans fans were mildly bemused.
Although the Swans very rarely get thrashed, their inability to put sides away has been a problem since the Miracle Year of '05.
Sydney does know how to put unwarranted pressure on the aortic valve of long suffering supporters, for no good reason.
Mid-way through the final stanza, had this irresistable urge to rush down to the Swans merch van and grab a handful of them specially marked powerful heart pills with the Swans logo on them, but then thought there would be a long queue with the Cardiac Kids up to their usual tricks.
After it was all over, we were glad we'd booked a room in the Lakeside Hotel for a Bex, a cup of tea, and a good lie down.

WESTERN BULLDOGS: 4.1, 5.1, 6.3, 10.5 (65). Goals: Moles 2, Giansiracusa 2, Grant 2, Morris, Jones, Griffen, Murphy.
SYDNEY: 3.3, 5.6, 9.11, 10.13 (73). Goals: Everitt 2, Pyke 2, O'Keefe 2, Goodes, McVeigh, Gordon, Mumford.
At Manuka Oval, Canberra.
Crowd: 10,184.

WESTS TIGERS: Bye.