This cutoff:
10. Legalese
11. The 189
12. Bostopia
15. Kryosis
Next cutoff(s):
13. Cobrio
14. Osarius
16. Mriin
17. Flavovespia
[...]
- There are bits about the trains of Jhanna at the start of the Legalese RP which were cleared with Star. Legal has otherwise cleared the RP in full.
- Bos cleared the Bostopia RP, and Monitor cleared The 189 RP, in full.
- Os hasn't strictly cleared the Kryosis RP in full, but I consulted with him prior to writing it, I've presented an advance copy to him and don't anticipate much pushback given he's really just asked me to roll with the "cyberpunk dystopia" vibes of the place. Maggie willing, he should be in a position to assess the Cobrio and Osarius RPs when they are finally in a fit state in the coming days - this is on me for not writing them, not on him. This is why the date jumps nine days between the Bostopia to the Kryosis RP, and why Lara is $105 poorer with no explanation whatsoever.
- Tumbra also cleared the fact that the Group of Six meeting you're reading about at the bottom was set in Straton (a rarity; most of my Go6s these qualifiers have been at home in Saint Eleanor), although with a bit of a reminder to maybe not be so clueless in my venue discussion next time.
- For a rough order of episodes I'll be publishing this cutoff and next, please refer to the guide on your right.
Not permissions-related, but you may wish to refer to Antonia Gore's guide to improper pizza consumption in digesting the latter bits of the 189 skit. Rest in power, Gortolekua.
Group of Six meeting (XV) --- Eraman 0-3 SAINT ELEANOR
Participants: Gentle Breeze, Reniira Clevinger, Stephen Mitcham ~ Bridget Coombe [C], Cathy Winchester [VC], Naresmet taFrexala [ballot]
Location: Premium Coffee; Whitehammer district, Saint Eleanor city, EXT
Stephen here. Everybody was unanimous that this was a strong result with little in the way of flaws, although Narry thought that we were a bit prolifigate with our chances and we needed to push up a bit more in general. We've decided to stick with the same team for the Darmen match - the Greens haven't been up to much as of late and I feel like we can easily exploit them again, putting us in great stead ahead of crunch matches against Tumbra and Auprussia.
by Lara Torridge - February 11th 2006
After that short trip to Yesopalitha, I figure I need a bit of a rest. Where better to start than on the Starblaydi train network? Well, not quite, actually. The airport staff remain as compassionate as ever.
Exchange rate: 770 NMS = $513.33 (1.5 NMS = $1)
First a short monorail ride from the airport, which is as sleek as I remember it being a week or so ago, to the central train station; and then from there all the way down to Shappington, on the western coast of Legalese. Nobody, on either train, decides to look at me weirdly when I use my Eleanorian bank card this time, which I imagine is a plus. The queues at passport control I find to be somewhat unbearable, even with my Eleanorian passport, which was never entitled to AORTA benefits in the first place; perhaps a consequence of Legalese not being part of the bloc either.
The next thing I have to do at Shappington's train station, which is as grandiose as it is colossal, is to make my way - for what feels like the millionth time, as well - to one of the local bureaux de change. I hear one man complaining that when he went here a couple of days ago, he was offered more like one-and-a-half to his dollar. I figure that maybe this might not be such a bad opportunity after all.
Exchange rate: $513.33 = 924 LEU ($1 = 1.8 LEU, I think)
You would be forgiven for thinking that Shappington, the city, is as mundane as the station itself. It is not - it takes only a few minutes to get from there to the lakeside. It isn't much, and certainly is a bit too rocky to be much of a tourist attraction to anyone other than ramblers of all kinds, but it is still pleasurable nonetheless. I resist the urge to skim one of the rocks across the lake, knowing how bad I am at it. There isn't much to do in the city itself, other than get something to eat; I have a couple of nice, toasty sandwiches with a cup of coffee from a local outlet, which goes down well enough for me.
It's been a while since I've gotten on the bus, so I get my ticket to Basswood from the conductor. I keep myself entertained by reading the newspaper, which I bought from a different shop on Shappington's high street, but there isn't much in the way of news at this time, this being the long post-qualifiers lull. The city strikes me as somewhat repetitive: I want to get another coffee, but I find myself having a steak and a couple of fried eggs instead, which I believe to be good if nothing else. There's a zoo, which I go to and spend a couple of hours at without issue.
Day 1: Summary
What I wore: a tiny little coat, equally tiny jeans, and a pair of sturdy boots
What I spent: twenty units
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 904 Legal Exchange Units
It takes a few hours on the train, but when I arrive at Central Junction - the capital - I immediately think it looks pretty enough, at least for me. The fact that the supreme court's building is, in and of itself, inordinately nice weighs heavily in this factor, although there's nothing to disqualify the other major sites. Then, after a couple of hours of walking, I settle down, have a coffee, a couple of toasted sandwiches... and a muffin. I do need all that energy to keep me going, after all; I'd dread to think how it would affect me if I didn't.
A couple of misconceptions are cleared up after that. I ask a couple of the locals how the local football team, or at least the Legalite national team, is doing; most of them either react with nothing or bafflement. Football is no longer the big deal I suspect it was many moons ago, when Legalese was in competition for World Cup hosting rights and knockout stages. I haven't seen a single car in my couple of days here, either; some more well-informed people on the street say that individual vehicle ownership can be anywhere between unheard of and outlawed, although I still have no idea which. All of this gives me enough confidence for a pint anyway.
There's an awful lot to actually do in Central Junction, as you'd expect from a capital. Not just looking around the streets and getting food, either: there are entire emporiums of different kinds of stuff which you can look at and buy. Many of them either aren't of interest or relevance to me, but I am enraptured by what is one of the highest-quality souvenir shops I have ever seen; everything there is made by hand by a few decently-paid local manufacturers about fifteen miles away. I see a nice, painted fridge magnet featuring some of Central Junction's major buildings and immediately drop some money on that.
One dinner place supposes that it can offer me pasta flavoured, seemingly heavily, with curry spices and chicken. I have immediate distrust of the offering, but take advantage of it anyway. While I need plenty of water to handle the spice, I do so anyway, and enough to thank the waiters for the service on my way out. I'm not sure that was much intended, however; people have told me in the past that Legalese is just not massive on spice without consent. That I go to bed immediately afterwards is testament to this.
Day 2: Summary
What I wore: the same clothes as last time
What I spent: sixty units
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 844 Legal Exchange Units
Another night's sleep, and another few more hours, brings me to Tyrellia, the largest city in the Karin Islands. To my surprise - perhaps for an area of such natural beauty - it is landlocked for miles and miles. I can do nothing except set down at yet another local café, order another coffee and yet more toasted sandwiches - although these have grilled cheese inside. I can tell that this isn't processed cheese. My dad's cooked with that and with slices of slabs of actual cheese. Anyone who's tried enough knows the difference.
There is a great museum and gallery about twenty minutes from here which, essentially, details the history of the Karins. I find it to be interesting, even provocative in parts, especially for someone who didn't exactly do her research before being sent out. There's a library another two minutes from that; I go into a reading room, pick out one of the books about Legalite society from fifty years ago and read it cover to cover... all couple of hundred pages of it.
I've almost forgotten my dinner, so I go to the first place that doesn't look immediately full up and order a burger and chips, and maybe some nuggets if they'd please. It is good and, quite honestly, better than whatever Torch has going on. (The patties are noticeably thick, which never happens with the big chain back home.) There are even places that do dessert as well, although I have to seriously debate with myself to avoid being lured there as well. The hotel is a bit worse than the other ones I've trafficked, but the bedroom amenities are at least tolerable.
Day 3: Summary
What I wore: the same clothes as last time... although I can do without the coat now
What I spent: thirty units
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 814 Legal Exchange Units
Finally - I'm going to a better place that doesn't give off cookie-cutter vibes and everything is picking up a bit. The perfect excuse to dress up like a tourist, rather than a grungy commuter who needs to write a bunch of regional tourism articles for Academy! The journey to Port Hound, best known as the transport hub for the smaller Karin, doesn't take as long - and when I get there, I immediately help myself to a double-chocolate-scoop ice cream from one of the local vendors instead. He thanks me for my custom; I nod back at him and even gobble down the cone when I'm done. I imagine this must be better than whatever Tyrellia was offering.
It therefore takes me a while to board the eastbound Main Line train to Surf City. They have even more ice cream than the Port Hound stallsperson would have made me believe existed - but I suspect I've had enough for a while, I'm calmed down and don't need anything more other than to relax, and barely do anything much. (Okay, so maybe I should get dinner... fish and chips, of course, but that is a story for another time if any.) What is there not to love? I am very much reminded of Lhor, to some extent - all of the short-term hedonism and natural beauty with little of the fashion or culture, or football. And I even got a very nice hotel room out of it... even if it wasn't quite what happened to me in Zijweg.
Day 4: Summary
What I wore: a denim skirt, short-sleeved top, and a pair of trainers - as last time
What I spent: twenty-four units
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 790 Legal Exchange Units
Good, right? That would only be a half-truth. Realising what I've just done (or haven't done), I get up as early as I can, find the train to Central Junction, get off, and then get on the other train to Foxchester - the one place, and if not that then at least the most convenient place, where I can get the ferry to Port Anaia (home of The 189) I need to continue my adventures swiftly. That is not the end of the story, however. Far from it.
I need to find another bureau de change, this time to get my units converted back into dollars; I'm vaguely aware that Port Anaia has its own currency, but also that it's tolerant and diverse enough to welcome dollar transactions as well. I find one woman who insists that she offers the best prices possible on exchange, and then - after some looking - find one place offering 1.3 units to the dollar. I insist I need a substantial discount to make my visit worthwhile, just in case there are other vendors about offering even better prices which neither of us know about yet. For whatever reason, she believes me and offers me an even better rate than I hoped for.
Exchange rate: 750 LEU = $652.17 ($1 = 1.15 LEU)
I board the ferry with immense haste, making it onboard with my luggage a couple of minutes before it leaves, and spend most of the journey thinking about whatever is to come next. We stop at what we think is a little-known part of Port Anaia. It is not. We're asked to make our way to the border, or what exists of it ourselves, although I wasn't surprised to see so few people decide to join the crowd heading there instead of back on the ferry home to Legalese.
Day 5: Summary
What I wore: the same clothes as last time
What I spent: forty units, but I got a lot more back in change
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 652.17 Eleanorian dollars for ordinary use
by Lara Torridge - February 13th 2006
There is no border post in Port Anaia. What there is, at least from this small fraction on the Legalite border, is a small currency exchange bureau manned by a charming non-binary person who explains that their home country was not particularly welcoming to queer identities. They advise me - after some off-topic chitchat which largely drifts into the Eleanorian law - that, given how short my stay here is set to last, I have no need to get my money swapped.
Exchange rate: not applicable
I point the teller to a sign which reads only "********************" and ask her what it means. They tell me that this sign is welcoming me to Port Anaia, the main home of The 189, and go on to explain (with some assistance) that the nation is named for **************** (the RSS Itzhak Stern) and the 188 robots it brought here from major social turmoil on their home planet of **********.
They warn me that the robots won't understand Yueyu script, but that anything written in Common should be fine with enough convincing - or indeed spoken, although that might require the writing as a backup anyway, and proceed to joke that I haven't seen the half of getting lost in translation yet. I ask them for a spare notepad and am given one, although it takes me a bit of chasing before I find a pen to go with it.
That pen emerges at a grocery store which, suffice to say, is better known for its tropical fruits than its stationery. The storeholder is a robot, and probably one who has spent more time around the humans than most; an almost inappropriate amount of gesturing is correspondingly involved. I'm told I can have it as a gift, but promise them I'll hand it back to the till in due course. I then look at the stock exchange for a while before deciding that I would rather not play with my money today; not when I could use it for valuable purposes. I come to regret it when another human, a black man who I figure must have been through some tough times, reminds me that it is one of Port Anaia's very few permanent robot fixtures.
When you get to the beach, you will notice all sorts of watersports happening; there is the occasional human child, or robot, trying to build a sandcastle in the corner if you look closely. I don't quite feel up to that much fun at this time, but - wary of the optics, and morals, of skipping out on so much fun for a day - I decide I will leave my notepad with the man who reminded me about the stock exchange, find a place to change off and spend a few minutes swimming, and sometimes splashing about, in the water. It is time well spent. It isn't quite as fully-featured as the Legalite beaches I visited, but certainly more fun than the Grand Beach back home.
I get my notepad back after drying off and ask the first robot I see, or close to it, for help with showing me around. As it so happens, I have chanced upon ********************, who normally works as an earth mover, but is in the sporting world the national baseball team's catcher, ice hockey team's goalkeeper, and among the football team's defenders. I ask them what their preferred role is, and they say they definitely prefer their position on the baseball team when they're not busy with shovelling sand and dirt.
I ask them if they can give me a bit of a look around Port Anaia; they agree, but are limited by their ingrained slow pace. I am invited into a couple of people's homes, although ******************** may not have realised it: I'm easily chased off by the couple of people who warn me not to enter and mostly isolated from them when I am allowed to come in. We visit a few shops, but I don't see anything really worth buying, except maybe a glass of orange juice. They are, however, particularly excited to show me around ******************, the Anaia Stadium, which hosts the 189's home matches in sports. I find myself agreeing with the enthusiasm on the whole.
This has been hard work, and ******************** reminds me - with the expected difficulty - that robot-made food might not be ideal for human tastes. They therefore advise me to go to one of the local human restaurants; I find a nice pizza place, spend a few dollars on something equally nice with a few toppings, and consume it... with decorum, I may add. Heaven knows I need a bit of decorum in these challenging times.
With dinner sorted, I reckoned that will be that for my actual explorations of The 189 and their newfound homeland (although it may not be so novel these days). All I had to do was return the pen and get to Bostopia, which would be quite the challenge given that the southern border is rather more policed than the northern. What followed was the return of the Foxchester ferry - this time done properly, again - a few more trains, and my final arrival at the other end of the country. I do not see the need to bother all of you with that information; this will satisfy your curiosity enough.
Single-day visit: Summary
What I wore: a denim skirt, short-sleeved top, and a pair of trainers - as last time
What I spent: fourteen dollars (plus seventeen cents worth of gratitude)
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 638 Eleanorian dollars for ordinary use
by Lara Torridge - February 18th 2006
The Bostopians are much like the Eleanorians: always Anaian, no matter what other people say; serious about border security; a bit stern at times; and mostly willing to get the job done. When I get my visa confirmed by the Bostopian border officer in Kinnston, he advises me (on request, of course) that currency exchange rates are "competitive enough." To nobody's surprise, I end up getting a one-to-one exchange from some man with a pop-up stall who makes absolutely no claim whatsoever to being a currency exchange expert, and I imagine will get arrested in a few days for pretending to be one.
Exchange rate: $638 = £638 ($1 = £1)
It only takes a few minutes for me to get somewhat perturbed by a loud noise in the distance. This, a passer-by assures me, is perfectly intended. Having asked around for help, I learn that this is a regular drill, in which empty cannons are fired towards Legalese to warn them, just in case any conflict between the two - of the sort Bostopia finds itself in with Mertagne as of this moment, albeit on the rather more hostile shores on the other side of the Lake Bekk - arises. I look around town, mentally reaffirm my suspicions that I was supposed to dress neatly in this sort of place, think that the buildings look nice and almost-perfect, and get a bit more food from the local shop which I once again see fit to mow down.
Dissatisfied with the calories I've been getting after a bit more walking and talking, I eventually settle in one of the local taverns, where I am handed an unexpectedly big roast chicken. The key word there is "unexpectedly," but I do finish it all. At the end, I ask the waiter if it is like this everywhere. The drill isn't universal; it's a strictly Kinnstonian pastime. The quality of the food may vary from place to place, and from tavern to tavern. But the buildings in any sufficiently central part of any major city, he assures me, do look as nice as I think they do. This calls for some hitting the road.
I am fortunate to find yet another car rental business in the local area; the salesman advises me that the vehicles here run on hydrogen and that the tanks are re-filled on a regular basis just so the driver doesn't have to endure them once every often. I ask him where Newfort, the capital, is out of pure curiosity; he tells me it's a day-and-a-half away or so, but I tell him I can manage it perfectly fine. And manage it I do: other than a couple of stops to just get out a bit, and one night at a decent local hotel which is not so much local as it is hundreds and hundreds of miles away from Kinnston, I feel satisfied with myself for the day.
Day 1: Summary
What I wore: normal jeans, a long-sleeved top, and a pair of brogues
What I spent: thirteen pounds; I know, another suspiciously round number
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 625 Bostopian pounds
I figure that spending a few days on the road, or close to it, will concentrate my mind enough. That it does - I stop by at a few villages, order some fare at the pubs and restaurants - sometimes a good steak, sometimes even more fish and chips - get some more hydrogen in the tank, and carry on irregardless except for a few roadworks. And then I realise I'm both a few hundred miles away from Newfort and roughly halfway across the country. It is a proud decision, but not quite one of my proudest.
Day 2: Summary
What I wore: the same clothes as last time
What I spent: nothing, by cash at least
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 625 Bostopian pounds
It takes a good morning's worth of travel, and about twenty minutes trying to find somewhere to park, but I finally make it to Newfort after twenty-four well-interrupted hours of driving or so. It does not take long before someone approaches me on a patio table outside asking about my business, to which I keep up a good conversation about this series I'm currently doing for Academy. I don't feel tired of explaining my life story to people; not when I'm only asked about it a couple of times a week or so out of hundreds of interactions. In turn, I almost forget to order something myself... but decide I'll just go inside and order lunch, which is about as large as I expected.
I can only walk for so long around this part of Newfort before remarking about how many bridges there are linking which appears to be a couple of well-founded communities. There aren't that many, and they are a bit steep, but that is to allow for naval ships to pass; and the bridges themselves only exist to allow people to cross the canals of the two major rivers, one heading into Lake Bekk and the other into the Strait of Chie; and the canals exist in such proximity such that the ships can be easily picked up and moved to the appropriate river. I hear that it is a long and complicated process, and thankfully not one I have to endure today.
At this point, I realise that I have probably walked too far and get one of the buses to central Newfort again. Now here is the real river, the one that gives Newfort its name, the one that has reasonable bridges for reasonable justifications. The water here is, generally, fit to drink, but I would much prefer going to one of the teahouses in the area and having some chai for my delectable pleasure. Whatever was added into this certainly gave me a much-needed boost of energy.
There is an old ford; if there was not, there would not be a new one to give Newfort its name. It is not surrounded by much, other than the stuff of legend. Almost depraved enough to have been in need of anything at this point in the proceedings - and keep in mind it has been a few hours since my cup of tea - I go on to imbibe some of it, go to sleep and am met with Josh Wilkinson from Bostopia and Olympia Woodward from last year's University College school play assuring me that Saint Eleanor are going to do just fine in the World Cup one of these days. I don't know how or why they came to this conclusion, but they did.
You may be asking yourself: why is Josh Wilkinson, my least favourite football player, telling you how good Saint Eleanor are going to be? Are you crazy? I'm not going to comment on that second question nor do I know what motivated the first. I am still left with enough time in the day to go back to the city centre, marvel over the Duke's Palace - which is much the same as the other grand buildings here and in Kinnston, except much grander tahn you'd expect - make a mental note to have a bit more of a look around once peace is attained through some means, then somehow, somehow, get to the airport. At least I remembered to change my pounds back now... didn't I? Right?
Day 3: Summary
What I wore: the same clothes as last time, again, plus the neat little jacket
What I spent: twenty pounds
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 605 Bostopian pounds
by Lara Torridge - February 27th 2006
Suppose your name happens to be Lara Torridge and you've just done a couple of days, and a thousand miles, worth of the longest and most entertaining bike ride you've ever had. And then, after returning your bike - to a completely differently-branded rental centre on the other end of some other country who probably didn't take heed of where you borrowed it from initially - you come across a questionable man who you suppose must be somewhat into rugby league, if not lower-division football. What now?
Exchange rate: 150 credits = 500 nyxx ($1 = 1 nyxx = 0.3 credits)
Obviously, you throw that man a few credits to let you pass into the third nation of the Rabastorian Union on this island. Even after he explains the potential pitfalls. I have to give credit to him for doing so - most state actors in the world of tourism would just not do such a thing, but then most states do not seem as hostile to outsiders as Kryosis is. I am nevertheless dragged, after a couple of hours of sojourning, into what appears to be a reception staffed by a mass of identical men. This immediately proves to be my pitfall: one of them brings me a cup of tea which I'm reluctant to accept, then I thank the cleaner for making it for me after I'm done. Not the best start.
Having been confronted about this, I go on to ask how they make their tea. Surely a nation like this would have some sort of secret behind their perfect cuppa. The secret is, in fact, a contraption the kind of which does not exist in Osarius or elsewhere. It is much, much bigger - and, one of the men says without proclaiming further, far more efficient - than any kettle or teapot we have access to. I don't ask any further questions: I know I'm privileged enough to be looking at their high-tech kettle; I fear the dangers from wanting to look at anything else.
The men have their suspicions and ask me to wait for another few minutes; I don't even get extra refreshments out of the deal. I am, nevertheless, cleared to roam around the publically-accessible areas of the site (in the sense that the Kryosi public can access them, of course) in due course. This is Kriminis - the imposing, if entirely underground, capital of Kryosis. Never have I seen so much artificial blue light in one place as I have here. It confuses me greatly, and I have to be accompanied by a couple of the men for a while as I explain to other people what I'm doing here.
I am, at one point, taken to a restaurant. This is not like anything I have had in any of the other nations I've visited so far. I place my order, expecting something vaguely familiar, only to be. It is natural, one of the men insists; there are people who work beyond the Hiedal mountains farming all sorts of animals and grains, which is then refined underground for the best taste possible. I find my meal to be good, even excellent, if not quite perfect. I do not say anything regardless.
I note the suspicious lack of shopping bags in the street, and ask how people get their stuff. They order through a special interface that outsiders would have great difficulty navigating, they explain, and completed orders are almost immediately delivered by superfast, and sometimes even heavyweight, machines. I try to use it myself, and fail, only proving their point. I ask them how sports work; they say they exist, but can't confirm or deny any return to international play. I ask them how tourism works; they don't answer. I then ask where I'm going to stay, to which they usher me into some big government building, take me to floor 37 and drop me off in one of the unmarked rooms there.
I have no idea why I haven't had to pay for anything so far, at least not within Kriminis city limits. I don't think word about this incident has made His Awesomeness, the Emperor, yet. There's a small chance that the identical men at work recognised me as a noble, or perhaps foolhardy, outsider and wanted to reward me appropriately. Or maybe the public has recognised me as being at one with the awesome agenda. Again, I fear to ask.
Day 1: Summary
What I wore: a tiny little coat, long-sleeved top, skinny jeans and tall pair of boots
What I spent: three Osarian credits for safe passage
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 490 nyxx
It takes me about an hour or so walking around Kriminis for me to decide I've had enough of this techno-futurism already - I've already been to Firewood and that was a far more upbeat place, to say the least - and change into something a bit more practical... as if that wasn't already my vibe for the week. That Kriminis is underground, far away from almost anyone else of non-Kryosi nationality, does not help. I spend multiple hours asking the people on the street to free me from this place before I finally get a trustworthy offer: I'm taken outside, beyond the Hiemals, somehow in a matter of hours, and left to fend for myself in the wide open.
I meet a couple of other people while searching around. One of them stares me in the eyes for a while, but does nothing other than that. Another claims to be testing out his fishing equipment, which naturally is far advanced beyond the rod and line (or net) that we humans are accustomed to use. He walks about a mile, points to a small powerboat, and tells me that I can use his fishing boat because he can afford a new one. It is not actually his boat, but - as far as I am concerned - it will get me through the Strait of Chie, out of Kryosis and into a more normal world, with more normal nations, in a matter of days. I will just need a huge meal once I land.
Day 2: Summary
What I wore: the same as last time... but with a bigger coat
What I spent: sixty units
What I've got left over: 95 Eleanorian dollars for emergencies; 490 nyxx
Group of Six meeting (XVI) --- SAINT ELEANOR 4-1 Darmen
Participants: Gentle Breeze, Reniira Clevinger, Stephen Mitcham ~ Bridget Coombe [C], Cathy Winchester [VC], Steve Pilchard [ballot], Arielle Richardson [invited by consensus]
Location: some dodgy bar near the university, northern Straton, TMB
I've given Arielle some strict orders... don't complain, please. And don't take those complaints seriously!
As with my last meeting - post-Arjunnagar, pre-EOT in the front end of qualifying - this meeting took place in a boozy venue. We are keeping off the bottle, however, and hoping that those. (I played for Occidental Olympic while at uni... and the Arsenal scouts didn't get anything out of me after all.) Highlighters: yellow for retrospectives, blue for points about us, green for points about the opposition, pink for pre-match unknowns.
By yet another consensus, this was deemed to be an exceptional attacking performance. Tim Hart, and his substitute Rick Goldsmith, were both persistent in front of goal. Every other potentially attacking player discharged their duties properly for the full 90 minutes, and slippages were few. But Sylvestre Emmitt was, almost undoubtedly, the man of the match. He was not the biggest pest... but he did squeeze past a couple of us to score Darmen's only goal, and so far the only goal anyone has scored against us this World Cup qualifiers.
Arielle wasn't particularly happy about this but I did ask her to get a soda and calm down, after which she miraculously did. But from a more macro point of view, this demonstrates that we have not lost our resiliency. At the time of the goal, Darmen had reduced our lead to 2-1 with most of the second half left to play and they were throwing quite a fair bit at us in the minutes afterwards. But our defence held ferm, kept up the rapid forwards play, and - in another sense - gave us the impetus we needed to go on and confirm the victory.
----------
The number one unknown coming into this match is that we don't know who Tumbra will be fielding! It's a reasonable possibility that they could field the exact same team as they did in Saint Eleanor; it's also reasonable that they could come into this match all guns blazing and with a generally merciless attitude: a draw will require them (vs Eraman) to better our result (vs Auprussia); a defeat would qualify us and almost certainly bump the Eagles to the playoffs.
A quick once-over of the minutes from the past meeting would suggest our previous focuses - forcing setpieces (and cleanly, ideally; we can risk player availability for Auprussia but I'd rather not); stemming the midfield tide; effective counterattacks - hold. The midfield planning doubly holds in the event Tumbra run a 4-1-2-3, as we informally expect - for obvious reasons we have no strict/formal expectations. Steve then decided to invent in response to this "Coombe's Law: The consensus for the next match is the relevant consensus from the last one." Thanks!
Given the consequences of Lydia Nicholls' prolonged absence from the last match and the need to field a strong lineup against what we suspect will be another strong one, we decided against making too many changes and agreed to put forth a flat 4-5-1 (as happened the last time I took notes apparently!), with the primary change from the classic setup being Kichirō Matsuda and Nicholls in central midfield - alongside yours truly, of course. Most likely Lydia and I will be staying back, Kichirō will push forwards in attack if necessary. We can bring on Sylvia Hollenberg (for Lydia) at CM or even Graham Lawson at LM if we need a bit more of an attacking emphasis in the later stages.
Reniira asked about the possibility of doing forwards planning for the Auprussia game. This was shot down by the rest of the group (although Steve was equivocal about the idea). This will be the most consequential game we have ever played. If we don't act like it is... then we will face consequences.
9’) (Dubravko 76’) - Byford; Shuji (Aeneas 62’) - Devor (
61’) - Dejulio (
Byford 54’ 
