If Carlsberg did holidays...

Spent an hour or so outside the ground with Caroline's husband - beer, bit to eat, footie chat & pondering how fat Maradonna is. Getting inside the ground proved relatively easy - didn't like the deodorant so the sweaty effects of the train journey were doomed to afflict those around me. Astounded how few of the cockneys made the effort to get in the ground early for the atmosphere - they seem to think doling out thousands of plastic flags does this. It does not. All you got was the same old songs & the same old St Georges flags - boring. Our end was bouncing early on & it was clear we were outnumbering them. Bodes well. Lots of UEFA twaddle to start with - fireworks & crappy Spanish pop. Doesn't go down well with fans stung for criminally limited tickets. Then to the main event & the nerves. 22s in & a penalty. Calms but also means a case of defending what you have & banking we'll get another. 88 min was painfully long but at the right and joyfully chaotic - hugging complete strangers. Cue party time. Players & fans together having a ball. Didn't want to leave but the car park was 40 mins away, getting out could be challenging & it was 12ish. Not much leeway @ the car park. Lots of singing in the streets later, made it with 20 mins to spare. Then the small matter of driving into the city centre to pick up Liz. Only stalled a couple of times - not used to this clutch lark. Thankfully easy to locate her & then the small matter if another 1 driving back to the hotel.Читать далее