Being Posh

I say old chap, have you seen my monocle? That's right everyone, I'm being posh! Last weekend we were invited to a Polo match. Now, being invited to a Polo match is not something I ever imagined would happen to me...but I could say that of a lot of things over the past few years. I have to admit that it was a difficult choice I had to make, either watch England vs Australia in the last test of the Ashes or go watch some posh people on horses. In the end my curiosity got the better of me, besides, I was keen to find out how they kept the horses from drowning. I imagined an equine version of a snorkel would be used.
However, on arrival it became very clear to me that there are 2 types of Polo and the one played in the water was in fact played without horses! Just as well I suppose.
The Belgian Open was held over 2 days, in a field (obviously) close to where we live. The sun was shining and the drinks tent beckoned to us to come imbibe of it's liquidy goodness. So we did. It was all jolly nice, as we approached the tent we could see tables and chairs laid out and to my delight I noticed bowls of peanuts on the tables. Beer was bought and my delight deflated somewhat when a dog walked along and snuffled into every bowl it could find. The dog wasn't a Great Dane, the tables were low to the ground. Naturally, I didn't warn anyone that there was dog spit on the nuts. It's one of the pit-falls of not being able to speak Dutch all that well.
It's true to say that none of us had a clue of what was happening on the field, I had looked up the definition of the word 'Chukka' before leaving and promptly forgot what it meant by the time we arrived. But, I tried to insert it into my sentences every now and then.
"Oh I say! What a marvellous chukka"
"Did you see that chukka? The goalie had no chance!"
"Another bottle of chukka, anyone?"
Although we had no idea of the rules, it was still a marvellous spectacle to watch. Very skillful and I have to say that I was full of admiration for the riders who showed superb skill in handling the horses. Our side sadly lost, the score was 4-3 and a half. Not sure what the half was for.
Actually I'm not even sure what the 3 was for either! The sun was shining and the beer was cold and with the appearance of a Spitfire flying over the field we could have been in Kent. It was all rather like watching a village cricket game, that sort of atmosphere.