Bon Voyage readers! I am off to Spain in a couple of hours, competing in a football tournament with my Department’s football team/ to speak English loudly at nonplussed bar staff and get slightly sunburnt (delete as appropriate).
The chance to play in Europe was one of the key factors in my decision to sign for University Huw. That said, our football team had to withdraw from the domestic programme this season, so now we just play in these exhibition tournaments around the globe. On the positive side, this has meant I have been spared having to spend the winter having lumps kicked out of me by hungover businessmen each Sunday in a bitterly cold Regents Park. On the downside though, the last couple of weeks in which I have tried to prepare myself have consisted of a not particularly enjoyable realisation that whatever limited touch and technique I may have once possessed is now lost in the swirls of deepest muscle memory, together with some juicy blisters from The Garfather’s borrowed AstroTurf boots.
But now I really must dash. Without a league to play in, it seemed rather superfluous to have a kit manufactured this season, and I am left needing to find some yellow socks before getting my flight. But where can a man find some yellow socks nowadays? Certainly not in London’s sports shops, which can hardly be classified as such really seeing as they only stock ‘casual wear’ trainers and endless racks of Chelsea shirts.
Toodle pip for now.
5 weeks ago