"How do you keep up with all that goes on?"

Right, let's pick things up from Monday 26th of June.
The day started at 04.00 when Funny Dance & I were both rudely awakened from our respective slumbers. Minutes later we were on the road; A45, M1, M25, M11 all the way to Stansted Airport. We were very much looking forward to sitting down & having some yummy breakfast before flying. However, by the time we had checked in we had to go straight to the plane. We only just had time to change our currency. It seemed that everybody on the aircraft was going to Germany for the world cup. There was certainly a large amount of Australians on the plane.
An hour of snoozing later & we were in Germany, more specifically at Frankfurt Hahn airport.
Which has absolutely no right to use the name Frankfurt at all, it would be like building an airport here in Crapsville & calling it Lincoln Crapsville airport. The bloody place was closer to pissing Luxembourg!
Also it had diabolical public transport connections, lucky for us that we'd already sorted out a hire car. We weren't the only ones either. We got nattering to another Englander as we waited in the queue. Just this & that & joking about how we would follow them because we didn't know how to get to Kaiserslautern. Eventually we got to the front & started getting our wheels sorted.
And then...
In a nutshell, there was a problem with Funny Dance's credit card & the hire car people were unable to take the deposit for the car. And that was that. Nothing we could do.
So we consulted the info point who told us that if we hurried we could get a bus to Homburg where we could change to a train for Kaiserslautern. So we ran & we made it. Oh well at least this way we could see something of Germany. Now admittedly I slept most of the hour & a half of the journey but all I saw of Germany was trees. Lots & lots of trees.
After what seemed like an eternity we got to Homburg where before getting on the train we devoured a hot dog each. It was now about noon & we'd been up since 4 without any food.
So to the train. Now we had to board the train in quite a hurry so I never had a chance to see how long it would take or how many stops there was before we arrived.
Oh the train was hell. It was packed to the rafters when we got on & I ended up stood in the middle of the area between the doors with nothing to hold on to. It was much worse than that though, somebody very close to me smelled really badly &, worse still, immediately in front of me was a girl with a ponytail. Not a nice, neat, hanging down as gravity would intend kind of ponytail. Oh no. It was more of a ooh I think I'll do my hair so it's like I've affixed a particularly overgrown privet hedge to the back of my head kind of affair. Which, naturally, she enjoyed smacking me in the face with on numerous occasions. So cramped up between stinky & whiplash hairdo was no fun at all. At every station the train called at (about 5 or 6) more people would squeeze in & the distance between myself & the terrible twosome would shrink even further.
It was a living hell.
Eventually we pulled into Kaiserslautern & I disembarked with the kind of glee not usually associated with simply getting off a train. It had been a very difficult, draining & downright shite journey but finally we had arrived. And we still didn't know how the chuff we were going to get back to the airport after the game, the train-bus combo was looking dodgy time wise & if the game went to extra time we had no hope. We decided that we would banish all our worries about getting home until after the game, we were resolute that nothing was going to spoil our enjoyment of this special day.
Initially we saw very little World Cup fever going on but after about a minute of walking we were in amongst it & the trek became history.
And in an explosion of colour we were suddenly part of it all. (I haven't a clue why this has come up as a link. Sorry!)

Kaiserslautern was the smallest of all the towns & cities in Germany to host World Cup matches. That took nothing away from the experience though, we immersed ourselves in the vibe of the place. The main street was simply chock a block with people, not just any people though; happy people. There were obviously lots of Italians & Australians around & a large number of Germans but there were also a smattering of English folk, some Croats & some Japanese. Now Funny Dance & I had long established that we were going to be cheering for the Aussies. A hot girl nearby was selling Australia hats. Funny Dance suggested that we get one each. I pointed out that we couldn't wear Aussie hats in combination with our proudly worn England shirts. As soon as I had finished that sentence a fella walk passed in an England shirt with an Aussie hat atop his bonce. "C'mon then!" said I & we bought the hats.
We then set off on a browse down the main street of the town which had wall to wall stalls selling beer & sausages. Say what you like about the Germans but they know how to keep you fed & watered. One of my favourite sights of the day was down that street. There was a group of about a dozen elderly folk who had seemingly got out early & parked themselves on the street in their portable chairs just to watch the whole shebang. Marvellous.

So we chatted to some Aussies, ate more sausages & I drank some more beer. Then the time came to make our way to the Fritz Walter stadium, home of Kaiserslautern FC, which sits on top of a hill overlooking the town. And to get there one has to take a rather gruelling trip up over 300 steps. Phew.
Upon entering the stadium Funny Dance decided he wanted to eat yet again. Turned out to be an inspired decision leading to the following moment of serendipity.
"You made it then" a voice called out. We looked & it was the fella we had been talking to in the car hire queue.
"Yes" I exclaimed "but we've had a right palaver" & I proceeded to tell him the tale.
"Well, they gave us an estate car so if one of you doesn't mind going in the boot we'll take you to the airport". So it was arranged that we would meet them after the game. Praise be to Ted & the boys from Shropshire. Good work fellas!

As the ground started filling up the buzz started to increase...

As you can see behind the 2 grinning goons there was a pocket of Aussies at one end of the ground & there was also a similar section full of the Azzurri at the other end but other than those modest groups it was pretty well mixed throughout the stadium. This made for an awesome vibe in the place.
And so to the game... The first half was fairly nondescript & I spent a good proportion of that time simply looking around the stadium in awe. The second half was a different kettle of fish altogether (not that I ever put fish in my kettle, you understand). Italy were quite rightly reduced to 10 men. From then on the Aussies were rampant & absolutely battered Italy without finding the breakthrough. In the 93rd minute, just as we were happily looking forward to extra time, an Italian took it upon himself to fall over the prostrate Lucas Neill (who had been exceptional, nay heroic, throughout) & the referee awarded a penalty! I was in the opposite corner of the ground & I could see that it was never a penalty in a million years. It was of course duly converted & that was it: Australia 0 - 1 Italy. They never even kicked off again. We were gutted & we were not much more than neutrals. Pity the poor sods who had flown halfway round the world only to see their nation's finest footballing moment literally stolen from them by cheats. Of course, only two weeks later those same cheats would be World Champions. Funny old game, eh?

From then on it was just traveling for hours. Firstly in the boot of Ted's hired estate, through the gazillions of trees back to Frankembourg airport (they should SO call it that!), through the sky back to Stansted & back up the various motorways to Crapsville where we arrived exactly 23 and a half hours after we'd left.
In summary, it was an utterly spellbinding experience from the minute we arrived in Kaiserslautern until the minute we left. It was just a shame that the journey had to be so bloody arduous.
On top of all that though, it had just been simply wonderful to spend some genuine quality time with my old friend Funny Dance. I can't thank him enough for choosing me to share his good fortune with him. God love him!

And then it was back to normal life...
Well, I say normal but frankly having quality football to watch on the TV every single day is not normal at all, it's blinking ace!
Saturday was the day of England's quarter final against Portugal. I had my final opportunity to go out to the pub to watch the game as the very next day Temper Tantrum was going away for a week & I would be full time single dad for the week. I got in the pub about 2 where I was most disturbed to find the doorman telling me I had to remove my hat, I figured he was joking & put it straight back on as I ascended the stairs. I made a beeline for the bar & was stopped by a member of staff who told me that the wearing of hats was not allowed. WTF? This would later prove to have grave consequences.
I got a pint of Stella & managed to grab a table in front of the big screen. I was shortly joined by Crisp Fiend & shortly after that by Nice, Cleavage Queen (Nice's very attractive best friend) & Freshface (a new bloke from work who despite being 30 looks about 19). And we drank lots of beer and then the game started. I love watching big matches in the boozer, there's a great atmosphere. Everyone united in a common goal, singing, dancing & being merry. I was certainly getting merry.
We all know the story of the game; the disbelief at Rooney's dismissal, the outrageous diving & cheating of the Portuguese & the harrowing passing of extra time bringing us ever closer to our old friend; the penalty shoot out.
Crisp Fiend & I put our arms around each other & watched, dancing when we scored or they missed & burying our heads in each other's shoulders when we failed. Of course we lost the penalty shoot out, we always do. I could do a whole post about the agony of being an England supporter. Penalty shoot out defeats are all I've ever known.
Things were going to be so different this year though & probably would have been if I'd have been allowed to keep my lucky hat on my head. So if you want someone to blame for England's failure; don't blame Rooney, don't even blame Sven (the tosser!), blame the fuckers at Jesson's Well in Crapsville that wouldn't let me wear my lucky hat. Gits! One final thing I'd like to say in relation to England's World Cup: Owen Hargreaves; I'm sorry mate, I dissed you something rotten yet you fought bravely & probably ended up being our best player of the tournament, sorry mate, if you're ever round this way I'll buy you a pint, ok?
Drowning our sorrows, our posse went out into the beer "garden" to bask in the glorious sunshine (so far it has been a proper summer here in the UK, hooray!) . From there on the details get a bit sketchy, Crisp Fiend went home but the rest of us carried on for a few hours. Nice & I later had a disagreement, the closest we've ever been to having a row, over my flirting. I stomped of home but got halfway there & realised that my keys were in Nice's handbag. So I went back & we had a laugh about it. That, my friends, is the worst it's been in almost a year. Can't knock that, eh?
Apparently I was very, very drunk. I don't remember to be honest but I've since had loads of people tell me I was shitfaced when I ran into them that night.

And then...
Temper Tantrum dropped The Boy off on Sunday afternoon. She then flew off to the west coast of the States for a week. I meanwhile slipped effortlessly into full time Dad mode. I re-jigged my working hours for the week so that I could be on 9-3. That way I could take The Boy to school at 08.45 & pick him up at 15.05 & not have to use a large chunk of my holiday entitlement. It all went swimmingly. However this was when my X-box problem manifested itself. Not having Nice's company in the evenings coupled with not having to get up at 05.00 meant I had a lot of time on my hands once The Boy had gone to bed. I had bought Fifa 06 a couple of weeks earlier & started having a crack at the manager mode of the game. I honed my skills with Lincoln City taking them from League 2 to the brink of the Premiership in 4 seasons, I also won the league cup. They sacked me as I went top of the championship after a 3-0 drubbing of West Ham on Xmas eve! I had allowed my wage bill to become too great & was losing money so they bloody sacked me! Another week & it would've been the transfer period. I'd have sold a couple of fringe players & it would've been fine. Gits.
At the start of the next season I took over at Leeds.
There I slowly assembled a fantastic squad led by star man; N.Flash (you can create players!), over the next 5 seasons the good times came back to Elland road. Promotion to the prem in my 2nd season & another league cup win. Mid table in my first season up. 5th in the next two seasons. A UEFA cup final triumph over Real Madrid. And then the very day that I hit the top spot of the prem they sacked me! Fucking spiraling wage bill!! I haven't played it since.

And then...
On the Thursday of that week it became clear that what I had thought were perhaps little heat blisters on The Boy's skin were in fact Chicken Pox. Bugger! So I had to go off work in the end as he couldn't go to school. He was fine though, even the itching wasn't too bad. I felt quite proud of myself for being a really good dad. Usually he would really want his mum when he's ill or really upset but this time it was all fine. Dad dealt with it, job done.

And then...
On the Friday, The Boy & I went over to Reckless & Dream Girl's for the weekend (all the kids over there have already had chicken pox). At the time I was going to an almighty post about nothing else other than the enchantress that we all know as Dream Girl. She had one of those nights where she was dazzling & it reminded me of just how screwed up I will always be about that woman. Pssst *whispers* I still love her y'know.

And then...
The moment that The Boy & I had waiting all week came along. A little background is required here I feel. Over the last 2 or 3 months both The Boy & I have been united in our love for Doctor Who. I missed all of the last series with Christopher Ecclestone as The Doctor, but I've since downloaded all the episodes & The Boy & I have watched them all on the computer. We've also downloaded all of the current series with the fantastic David Tennant in the Tardis. We have been religiously been watching it on a Saturday evening. An so the time came for the season finale. It was bloody ace! Cybermen & Daleks all kicking off &, of course, the end of the line for the divine Rose Tyler (sumptuously portrayed by the wondrous Billie Piper, who I've long had a bit of a thing for, in no small part because she looks like a younger version of She Who Changed Everything). Oh, it was so, so sad. I cried like a girl. It really choked me up. I cried again when I watched it again with Nice a couple of days later. The bit right at the end when The Doctor disappears just breaks my heart. Good work everyone involved with Doctor Who, it was excellent television.

And then...
I received my CD from the shuffle-a-thon going down over at Swiss Toni's gaff. I had already sent out my lovingly compiled effort to Leah. It's been the only bit of Blogland that I've clung onto in recent weeks. A review for said disc will be forthcoming very soon.

And then...
I started to think about blogging. For a while I considered jacking it all in. I've been struggling lately to be a decent blogger & I'm not sure I want to do something if I can't do it properly. Then I got to thinking about all my friends out there & what a huge gaping abyss there would be in my life so I decided to knuckle down & get on with it. Then I went to Bloglines (which is absolutely ace, by the way. Why did no one ever tell me about that?) & saw exactly how much catching up I've got ahead of me. Then I freaked out & decided to jack it all in again. Then I came to my senses again. I'm also not very happy with the way my new home looks. I need to get it looking shiny.

And then...
(This is purely for Phil's benefit) I finally got round to watching Serenity. I have to say I thought it was great, a really good rip-roaring sci-fi tale. It looked really good & I liked all the characters too. What more does one want from a movie?
I have to say though that some time ago, our Phil claimed that Serenity was a cooler spaceship than the Millennium Falcon.
Having now seen the ship in question, I fear for poor Phil's eyesight &, indeed, his sanity!

And then...
This weekend just gone was all about The Boy & his 7th birthday. 7! How the chuff did that happen? On Friday Nice & I took him to the cinema where we watched Superman returns. I could give you a full review of it but I'm not going to. I'll just say that he probably shouldn't have bothered returning.
Saturday was all about a special birthday surprise for The Boy. So at 9 on Saturday morning Nice, myself & the little fella got in the car & went off on a jaunt. I told him that it was going to be a long journey but that there would be a special treat for him when we got there. He had the DVD player in the back & we never heard a peep out of him. When we got to the Severn bridge I told him to have a look around. He was mega impressed, I don't think he'd ever seen anything like that before. Not long after that we arrived in Cardiff. We had a chat about how the Doctor Who episode "Boom town" was set in Cardiff & I also explained that most of the series was filmed in and around the city.
To be specific Cardiff Bay was our destination. We parked up & had a wander round. It was a gorgeous day & Cardiff bay is actually very, very nice. We went & had some lunch & then it was time for his treat.


This picture was taken just before we went into the building behind The Boy. It's the red dragon centre & inside he found to his absolute face-lighting up glee, the Doctor Who up close exhibition.













Oh, he absolutely loved it! I enjoyed it too but it really did make his day. He was awestuck as he got within touching distance of a Cyberman & a Dalek. It made the 4 hour round trip in the blistering sunshine worth every second. He also reveled in being able to choose a birthday present from the Doctor Who shop. He plumped for 2 radio controlled Daleks that scrap with each other. We had great fun playing with them on Sunday, I tell thee! Y'know what? Sometimes I'm a bloody ace dad.

After the exhibition we strolled round the bay again & had ice creams. The Boy was most enthralled by the giant waterfall structure & got pretty wet going up & putting his hands on it along with every other child in the vicinity.

We got home about 6 & I took him back to his mum, where he delightedly told her all about his special day out.

And then...
It was Sunday & his actual Birthday. He had a party in the local family pub which was great. He also got a big wedge of cash (£35!) from various sources so he & I went over to Toys R Us after his party to spend it all. He was most chuffed to get a duel disc for his Yu-Gi-Oh cards (?). His whole weekend had been totally ace. Job done.

And then...
I started sorting out the forthcoming trip for Nice's birthday. Flights are booked, yay! Hotel is booked, yay!
So this Friday we'll nip up the road to Coventry airport & head off for a long weekend in a city that should be absolutely perfect for Nice & I. Where are we going? Amsterdam!!!!
Bring it on.
We get back Monday night & then on Tuesday, which is her Birthday, we're going to Blackpool for the day. She doesn't know this yet though. So it's all kicking here in Flashyland!

And then...
I finally completed this post. Phew!

And then...
I have only just realised that my entire archives have gone. I may cry. I may top myself. I haven't decided yet.