Just around the corner there is a welcome sight, a ‘Failte Celtic’ sign outside a corner pub. I am still a bit early to check in to the hotel so this provides a good excuse to check it out. I look at my watch, it is Guinness o’clock. Lunch and a couple of pints then the hotel. Sorted. I love it when a plan I haven’t made comes together.
This is the Fox & Friends. Although it sounds like a roast beef joint in Middle England, there is wall-to-wall Celtic memorabilia on display and Irish music playing for the advance patrol of Hoops supporters sitting both inside and outside the bar.
A guy who looks like the owner is wearing a Celtic polo whilst a lovely young waitress is bedecked in Rennes red, complete with scarf. I order a pint and some food and make a note to take a photo or three to send home. Pinned onto the roof above the front door, there is a huge banner, which looks intriguing. On closer inspection, it is a collage of all the Celtic nations, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, the Isle of Man and some others I am less familiar with. I’m guessing that Brittany and Cornwall may be involved, given the earlier discussion.
The bar staff are rushing around to stay on top of things, as the place starts to get really busy. I wait for a quietish moment then approach the barmaid like a nervous stalker. I needn’t have been so. She is called Emily and is game for a laugh. ‘You want a photo with me? Absolutely. Whatever you want.’ The deed is duly done and another European away-day moment is captured for posterity, as Celtic connections are cemented in the Fox & Friend.
There’a a guy at the bar wearing Hoops, sunglasses and a bright red kilt, who is just screaming out to be captured for the diary. He is Kenny from Knightswood and is also up for a chuckle. We are quickly joined by his son, also Kenny from Knightswood, who recognises me as ‘the guy who did the video in Trondheim.’ It turns out they were sitting just in front of me that night in the Lerkendal, appearing in the brief clip I posted of the players and support celebrating ‘the day we won away’, last November.
I’m really enjoying the vibe but the rarely-utilised sensible part of my brain decides that it’s probably best to head for my hotel before a few pints becomes a full-on session. I make my way through the narrow streets which are now increasingly filling up with Celtic supporters. Checking my bearings on the map given to me earlier by the hotel receptionist to stop me saying ‘Si’, I now find myself in the romantically-named Rue le Bastard. I’ve rued a few. We’ll have a bit of fun with that on Twitter later.
Just along the road is the main Parliament Square and I am surprised to see hundreds of Celtic fans already there, basking in the sunshine. I had thought this would be a quietish trip numbers-wise but not a bit of it, Rennes is green and white.
I bump into big Jim, a pal who works for Celtic security and this time the roles are reversed, as he takes a selfie of him and me to send back to the guys at Celtic Park. I have found my next beer location but first things first, it’s back to the hotel to drop off my bag and get organised for the game.
CLICK ON GREEN ‘NEXT’ BUTTON AT TOP TO CONTINUE
