Between my last post and now a lot has happened – I’ve had a full ski week with the fam (much more on that later), I’ve become a TV football pundit and I’ve begun playing football again. One thing, however, that definitely hasn’t happen though is the returning of my wallet by the Police. They’ve had it for over a month now they refuse to give it me back, sending me around various departments and communication techniques but, alas, to no avail. A colleague of mine informs me that the police once had his laptop for over a year before it was given back, even though all of his work for his Masters was on it. Needless to say, I’m hoping to not have to wait that long.
The moment our family ski trip was booked I knew 2 things: 1 – it was going to be fantastic to see the fam again and 2 – I was going to want to hop on the plane back to England with them afterwards. I was right on both accounts. I have never skiied in such perfect conditions before. For the first three days it snowed almost continuously making it hard to see more than ten yards in front of you but at the same time leaving a fresh layer of the lightest powder on the ground each day. Each day we could ski through completely untouched snow on the piste – there’s no feeling like it, and it certainly made me look like a much better skiier!
The lack of visibility hindered us only once, when Matty and I accidentally took a wrong turn, hitting a snow drift at speed, leaving us up to our necks in snow and with Matty’s finger twice its usual size! On the final day the snow stopped falling and was replaced with perfect blue skies, allowing us to take incredible photos, like the ones dotted about in this blog post. Our typically german accommodation was a mere 2 minutes walk from the ski lifts – great location but this did mean there was only 1 restaurant we could visit and boy did we visit it. Luckily, it was fantastic, with friendly staff who greeted us like locals by the second day (on our THIRD visit – Dinner, Apres Ski, Dinner) and served us delicious wholesome food.
The ski week also led us to the discover of the best named beer Germany has to offer. As you may well know, lager in Germany is known as “Helles” and in Bavaria that is often shortened to “Hell”. What you may not have known is that there is a small town on the border of Austria and Germany that brews its own beer. The name of that town? Fucking. You’ve got it, their beer is called Fucking Hell. It was probably the only time I’ll get away with using the phrase so often in front of my parents!
What a great week it was, and Matty, Mum, Dad, Mum’s two friends and Matty’s friend all got to do a bit of sightseeing in Munich on the Monday before their flight (while I was in work I must add!)
The Intervening Days
After all the stories regaled about England over the weekend I couldn’t wait to return. Luckily, my time since then has been so busy that I’ve barely had time to even feel depressed. A trip to Marek’s to get my deposit back (one week on, still not in my bank account), an expensive haircut, valentine’s day and 1860 München vs Bochum, a leaving night out for my friend Maddie and football have kept me busy until this very evening.
Football on Sunday marked the return of Munich Irish Rovers after the winter break. Whereas friendlies are supposed to ease you back into the swing of things after a period of gluttony over Christmas, our game was nothing of the sort. Promoted to the A team, I faced opponents who top of the league and had been training since the turn of the year, so were massively sharp in comparison to us, still nursing hangovers from the night before. I must also point out that when I say top of the league I mean top of the league above us. Oh, and did I mention one of their players used to play for Red Bull Salzburg? Yeah, well he did.
7-1 flattered our oppenents but we were well and truly outclassed across the field, with much of our game involving chasing shadows. We did, however score the best goal of the game – our centreback-turned-rightwinger guiding a superb left-footed volley into the top corner from outside the area.
After the match I got a call from Molten Marcus who invited me to an all-you-can-eat chinese buffet with the often elusive Alex Gregory. We failed miserably, only managing to finish 2 plates each despite staying in the restaurant for a good few hours. Practice is needed.
In other more important news, Carly Rae Jepson is in Munich on March 28th and although I won’t be going to see her live (she’s supporting Bieber and I refuse to put my ears or wallet through that torture) I see this as the perfect opportunity to make her my wife. Simply put, I like it so I’m gonna put a ring on it. As long as Marcus doesn’t get there first. People have told me there may be other variables than just Marcus getting there first but a man has to dream, right? In a hypothetical world where I’ve just given her my number, I don’t think I’d be able to hold back the most OBVIOUS of lines; “Hey Carly, call me maybe?”. This could be my downfall.