Sick swans

The annihilation of Manchester United by 6 (six) goals to 1(one) will live long in my memory. Not so much because of the scoreline (we've beaten them by big margins before) but because of the ruthless and clinical manner of the performance and the shell shocked reaction of every United fan I know. Naturally of course, they have tried to respond with accusations that we are buying our way to success (a strategy they know only too well) and that the sending off materially changed the outcome (who knows). There is however a look in their eyes that suggests they realise this is the first of many hidings coming their way and that the pendulum of football has well and truly swung.

I'd like to think that my reaction to this monumental result was respectful, measured and appropriate. I'd like to think that except it is of course not true. I've been pretty much whooping it up ever since, lauding about the place like I scored the six goals myself and getting completely carried away with the whole thing. 

My friends Paul, Neil and I travelled to Valencia for a three day trip to see City take on Villareal in the Champions league. It was my first euro away trip but it definitely wont be the last. We had an absolute blast from the minute we arrived and even an endless succession of work calls during the day couldn't dampen my fun.

Valencia is an incredible City, modern and vibrant with a lovely mix of the old and new. Some of the architecture is stunning and I made a mental note to revisit for a long weekend at some point in the near future.

It's also a City on the beach and within minutes of checking into the hotel we were in a cab heading towards the old port and tucking into several lovely courses of tapas accompanied by more than a few ice cold cervezas. The combination of the heat, the octopus and the beer was lethal and I was soon quite squiffy.

From there a taxi to the old town where the night was spent enjoying a carnival atmosphere outside an Irish bar (yes, yes I know.....) where approximately 50% of the songs were about the derby victory. It was like old times supporting City in my early twenties only this time on the back of success and I confess I enjoyed myself a little too much for my own good.

The next morning I was fragile and the prospect of another day on the pop was almost too much to contemplate. Almost. By 2pm we were on the coach for the hours journey to Villareal and by 3pm we were in the bars next to the ground despite the game not kicking off for another five hours. I spent a few hours on the phone sorting out some work issues which probably kept me sober enough to see the rest of the afternoon off in relative sobriety but in the hour leading up to kick-off I fatally decided to try and catch up with my friends Paul and Neil's drinking tally.

I say fatally because Villareal's away end is named the 'birdcage' and is unbelievably steep. At the bottom of the stand is a huge perspex screen covering the whole of the front of the stand. It's main purpose is to stop missiles being thrown onto the pitch but it also does a really good job of blocking the view of the game. I stumbled to my seat and missed my footing sending me tumbling down rows of seats saved only by some kindly City fans who managed to catch me despite collapsing with laughter.

Thankfully the alcohol I had consumed prevented the pain from affecting me too much and I was able to witness another thoroughly professional victory. The celebrations went on long into the night though in truth I was a spent force. After the coach journey back we had one beer and then retired for the night.

A fantastic euro trip all round capped off by a terrific win. I'm optimistic that we will make it through the group stages so I can make another trip next year to some other destination maybe even Barcelona. I'm not confident we'd get a result there but it would be a brilliant experience. 

Never meet your heroes....

Someone once said 'never meet your heroes' and last week I did. We were fortunate enough (thanks to my pal Pauls wife Sallys donation to charity) to secure two tickets, access all areas with hospitality in the players lounge for the Manchester snoozefest Derby last Wednesday night. Once we had collected the tickets we descended into the bowels of the Eastlands stadium and after four security checks and various corridors and stairs, we found ourselves staring out at the pitch from the tunnel with the dressing rooms to our left, the managers office to our right and the players lounge just off to one side.

We bumped into Mancini in the corridor returning from an interview and our new £25m striker Balotelli dressed like something out of a Spike Lee film. On entering the players lounge we were surrounded by various players, mainly the ones who had not been selected. On various tables were the friends and families of the players. The room itself was hardly luxurious, more functional and a cold buffet and some hot food were laid on. It took barely seconds to realise that there was absolutely no alcohol in sight, reflecting Mancini's sensible policy of keeping alcohol away from players whilst on his watch.

I have never watched a Manchester Derby sober and we were not about to start now, so we went for a wander. We ascended in the players lift to the middle tier and went into one of the corporate lounges. We were immediately stopped by some prim and proper 'lounge manageress' who insisted that our VIP tickets did not allow us to order drinks from her bar. However, with a quick shimmy we avoided her and went to the other side of the bar and ordered drinks. Noel Gallagher and Mike Pickering (DJ and founder of M People) were entertaining a table full of City fans and the atmosphere was buoyant as the City fans contemplated the first derby in many years where we were favourites to win . After a couple of flagons we descended once more back to the players lounge which by now had filled with various injured or out of favour players.

We could hear the atmosphere start to build and we went to our seats to take in the pre-match banter and soon enough the game kicked off. Despite the initial cauldron of passion the atmosphere soon flattened as the game played out in a very docile manner, both teams cancelling each other out, afraid to make a mistake and sacrificing adventure for safety.

After a fairly dour 90 minutes we descended once more to the players lounge and were by this point surrounded by players past and present, all talking about the match and swigging from complimentary bottles of water or diet coke. Having no interest in carbonated beverages or curled up sandwiches and having little to say to those around us, most foreign and with a feint grasp of english we made an executive decision to retire to the pub over the road. It had been a fantastic experience and we both felt really privileged to have witnessed the heartbeat of our club but I'm not sure I would repeat it again. I felt slightly awkward, knowing that I did not really fit amongst these people. Being a fan is entirely different to being part of the fabric of the club and I was in danger of saying something embarrassing to one of the players so we left it at that and hoofed it to the pub.

On the way to the boozer, we were stopped by a man waving a microphone and his cameraman from some Arabic TV station or other.

"What do you think about Manchester Derby?"

"errr....yeah it was alright mate, bit boring"

"Why you like Manchester Derby?"

"ummmm....don't know really, it's just a big occasion filled with passion and ermmmm hatred. gets the blood flowing"

"....and what you think about American owners?"

"sorry?......"

"The American owners, the Glazers?"

"Oh right, yeah they're good lads. Hope they stay for a long time and continue to spend what they haven't got"

*bemusement*

"so... you like them? I thought everyone hated them and wanted them out"

"no mate....we love them...we'd love them to stay and ruin Man United even further"

"ahhh.....You are Manchester City fans"

"Yeah, me, him and all these people and all the people in that pub. Oh and all the people around you and most of the people inside the ground"

With that they scurried off in search of a better understanding of English football and presumably some United fans to interview.

A weird end to a strange night. A unique experience wrapped around a non-event of a football match.

Is it safe to come out yet?

Is it just me or does everything feel just a little bit weird at the moment in the UK? As the general election looms closer bringing political uncertainty through the medium of television, volcanic ash spews into our atmosphere, grounding our aeroplanes and clogging up the news channels. Personally I find droning tales of extended holidays and descriptions of difficult journeys home do not make for interesting viewing.

The economy is spluttering back to life but with every chance that the patient may have a relapse at any time. Retail figures this week suggest that people are returning to the shops in droves but not actually brave enough to spend anything. It's a day out I suppose

Spring has truly sprung and it feels like people are cautiously venturing out into the sunshine, apprehensive of what they may find outdoors. However nature doesn't understand recessions and social uncertainty and the results are blooming marvellous.

The football season is nearing it's end and I for one am glad. I'm not sure I can take much more this season. The Manchester derby was a grand day out, a great atmosphere and a disappointing performance and result from my perspective. Prior to last Saturday every time Mel had attended with me, City had won. That spell was broken last Saturday. I think Mel was relieved, I think she had visions of me dragging her round various far flung European destinations on a cold Tuesday night next season like some kind of good luck charm.

Today I am nursing a hangover which I obtained by accident. We arrived home last night to the first warm, balmy evening of the year. Before we knew it, we were in a Turkish bar which has just opened down the road, eating a mezze spread and glugging red wine like there was no tomorrow. We then moved on to my sister-in-laws where we sat outside, putting the world to rights whilst seemingly trying to extinguish some kind of unquenchable thirst. We arrived home at 11.30pm, which felt like 5am in old money.

Consequently, I feel like something shat inside my head and even a bacon sandwich and a series of vigorous domestic tasks haven't shifted it. We had planned a day out, a walk around some previously visited natural landmark and an overpriced lunch at the inevitably Karrimor infested cafe/restaurant. This excursion appears to be in some doubt, as even watching Saturday Kitchen feels difficult right now.

In any case, I'm not sure it's safe to go out.

Shabbiness is next to Godliness.....

I have had a number of e-mails, comments and enquiries as to my well being, generally wondering why I have not blogged for a while. You will be relieved to hear there is a very good reason for my shabbiness on the blogging front. I couldn't post or write anything because no matter how hard I tried,  I simply couldn't be arsed.

Mel and I returned on Tuesday from our Holiday in France. Leaving our house in Chalus is always hard but this week was particularly difficult. So much work is going on now in our barn renovation that I find it difficult to tear myself away. The plumbing is in, the wiring is being installed and my Father-in-law Fred has worked relentlessly to push the whole project forward. We are immensely grateful for his and Pat's help as they have spent the last two months there, organising, sourcing and managing the whole project.

In addition, We are having two old outbuildings demolished in our garden plus a number of connecting walls. The whole garden, belonging to our house and the barn will be landscaped and the whole place will look totally different when we return in July.

I spent most of our ten days there stressing and fretting about everything, sticking my nose in where it didn't belong and desperately trying to appear like I understood the finer details of what was going on. Fred humoured me and tried to explain complex and technical things to a man who struggles to change a plug.

I am learning though and things are beginning to make sense. We made several really important decisions regarding the pool we are having installed at the back of the holiday home and the surrounding patio. We also chose internal fixtures and fittings and compiled a budget for completion which is a little scary but it is vital we push on and complete this year as we want to start renting the holiday home next year to recoup some of our investment.

Having said I was stressed and fretting, it's important that you understand that I enjoy every single minute of our time there. It's a different kind of stress from the everyday hub-hub of life in the UK. Seeing the project come to fruition is immensely rewarding and I forget all about my real life and instead become some kind of cider quaffing, cheese eating, workaholic that finds it difficult to sit still for a single minute.

Just prior to our arrival my new sit down mower had been purchased by Fred and after a cursory driving lesson I was off whizzing around the garden mowing grass that won't even be there when we return.

We spent some time just holidaying too. Either discovering new places in the Limousin or in my case spotting and investigating lakes that I intend to fish in future. We visited a lovely town nearby called Brantome which is just 40 minutes drive away in the Dordogne.

We had a lovely day there lunching and drinking Cider by the river.

I also managed one afternoons fishing with our friend Neil which was almost wholly unsuccessful from a fish catching perspective but just wallowing and relaxing in the amazing nature was a complete privilege right up until I saw this fellow swimming towards me, at which point I hid behind Neil just emerging for long enough to take this photo.

I had no idea that Adders could swim but will bear this in mind now the next time I decide to take a dip in one of the local lakes.

We socialised plenty with our friends old and new who are lucky enough to live there. Neil and Roz were very generous with their home-made cider despite being up to their eyes in their own renovation projects. I tried to lend a hand putting up a new fence but it appears that my practical skills are unbelievably even worse than anyone had previously assumed.

We had a lovely meal at our friends Matt and Helens. Thankfully for them I drove on this occasion sparing them my red wine fuelled diatribes which I normally bless them with. We also met new friends at a party Tamira and Marco who have opened a campsite and Gite business near to our property and we took great inspiration from them as to the life we will eventually lead when we move their permanently in a few years time.

On the whole a fantastic trip. My heart belongs to the Limousin, it is literally my favourite place on earth and our future guests who holiday at our property are guaranteed an amazing relaxing time in fantastic surroundings which for my money equal the beauty of anywhere else in the world.

After a stress free 24 hour drive back we returned to the UK with a bump. I had two days of meetings in London this week where the hustle and bustle was a stark contrast to the serenity we had experienced for the previous ten days. On a positive note the grounding of all UK flights due to the Volcanic ash meant that our apartment in Cheadle has been unusually quiet without the constant drone of flights overhead.

Today Mel and I are off to watch the Manchester Derby which will be Mel's first. I really don't think she has mentally prepared herself for the cauldron of passion she will witness later today and I am praying to the gods of football for the right result otherwise work will be a tortuous experience next week.