Who the fuck are Barcelona?

Yesterday was the best day I’ve had since being in Munich and the happiest I’ve been for a long time. But it could all have turned out differently.

May 1st is a huge day of celebration all over Germany and basically involves drinking copious amounts of beer throughout the day. Waking up at 8 15 having only returned from a night out at 5am is never ideal. Nevertheless, this was the situation I found myself in yesterday morning. With a mouth as dry as the Sahara I quickly downed a couple of litres of water before returning to bed for a few hours of broken sleep. At around 1pm and feeling much better, my senses were aroused by the smell of meat being grilled outside. Donning the sunglasses as a weak attempt to hide my hangover, I headed outside to join the rest of the guys for some Würstchen and Burgers. Recovery is always better in the sun.

Once the food was done and dusted we began to play Werewolf, in which the French and English seemed to get killed off very quickly! This continued for the next few hours before I quickly showered, donned my Lederhosen and we headed out to the street party that was happening just in front of our house. If it wasn’t yet clear that we live in the gay quarter of Munich, yesterday confirmed it with a pout and a flourish. Around 300 men with perfectly plucked eyebrows and fake tan had gathered for the yearly May 1st celebrations in the Glockenbachviertel and were dancing around with gay abandon, drinking, drinking, drinking.

At around half 5 I headed to Theresienwiese to meet up with Phil and the gang for his leaving party. Just as I was walking into the ‘fest I bumped into Munich Irish Rovers second team manager, Paul. This was to be the start of my feeling like a celebrity for the day. Once we’d entered the Hippodrom we bumped into the Skiing gang who’d also managed to secure themselves 2 tables in the very busy tent of people waiting to watch Barcelona vs Bayern. It took only a few more minutes until I’d spotted some more people I knew – Adin and Caro from work and Marc, Greg and Timo from the Irish Rovers.

The view from the Hippodrom

We still had 3 and a half hours until the football even started! It was a relatively sombre mood in the tent, which was an absolute God-send after the relatively hard drinking experienced over the past few weeks. After a delightful roast chicken the football finally began and even though the first half was dreadfully boring, the atmosphere was great. Just as the second half began, Bayern scored the first of their 3 goals and the room went wild, with chants of “Who the fuck are Barcelona?” ringing around from all corners. Never before have I cheered louder for a team I don’t really support! Well, until a little bit later at least.

After the match we found out there was a street party to celebrate the victory and so we headed north to Leopoldstraße. Lo and behold we joined the hundreds of people chanting and shouting and dancing. Thanks to Naoise for making this video that sums up the mood better than I ever could!

the crowds on Leopoldstraße

It was just a fantastic day and I was swept up in how much love was flowing around the city. I also booked my flight back to England this week which really made it feel like this is all coming to an end. It’s a horrible feeling, especially as I’m finally feeling perfectly settled in this amazing part of Bavaria.

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Snonie White & the 7 Dorks

This week’s entry was always likely to be full-blown blog warfare. Sharing in the wonderful experience of blogging about our respective year’s abroad are Marcus and Adam. What would happen then, when the three of us met up with the rest of our friends in Stuttgart for Simon’s birthday?

Leaving work at the ludicrously early time of 1pm on the Friday I headed into the centre of Munich to meet Marcus and pick up some last minute essentials – sunglasses, deodorant and sausages. For the first time in a while, the sun was out and Babian’s first theorem was truly at work. Unfortunate then, that we had to hop on a bus and watch as the weather got gradually worse the closer we got to Stuttgart. Being loud and English, I think we managed to annoy everybody on the bus, probably due to Marcus referring to them all as “a bunch of plebs“.

We were even manage to scare Simon for a short while, when we told him I was stuck in Munich and was being held by the police due to having “a little bit of drugs” – probably not the most accurate measure I’ve ever seen I have to say, but fear struck all the  same. Little did we know, but as we were fooling around on the Autobahn Nonie was in Berlin and had managed to arrive at the wrong airport for her flight. A quick dash across the city made her make the flight with 5 minutes to spare. Everything was still going to plan.

Simon, being the absolute babe that he is had organised the entire weekend with the sort of efficiency even Germans would be jealous of. Having picked us up from the airport, he guided us back to our rather swanky Hotel (note: there’s no ‘s’ between the ‘o’ and ‘t’!) wherehe’d already booked us in AND left us a Ritter Sport variety pack on each of our pillows. As previously stated – babe.

Having gathered Scouse, Nonie and Sam we headed into town, devouring our first Döner of the weekend before heading to Sophie’s Bräuhaus where the drinks obviously started flowing. After a bus, 2 car shares and a total of 9 hours travelling, Adam and Euan finally arrived from the former East. Adam being Adam, it was only a matter of time before he had candles in his ears and was chanting about Michael Carrick. There are literally no words for that boy.

200€ later and we were about ready for bed, especially with such a monstrous day ahead of us at Frühlingsfest in the morning. Once we’d allayed Simon’s fears that we wouldn’t be able to make it home, we said our goodbyes and trudged home through the pouring rain.

At 10:30am sharp our guide for the weekend knocked on our hotel room and began to rally the troops. This is the beautiful thing about Germany, we’d booked a table for heavy drinking between the hours of 11am-5pm! Wahnsinn.

fully integrated into German society!

Our table reservation included 2 Maß and a half chicken as part of the deal but as 2pm came around and 2 Maß had already been sunk we mostly decided to swap the half chicken for another beer. Classy as ever. During this time we’d met some interesting members of society, including a man from Dortmund who claimed to be Marcel Schmelzer’s best friend and a bride-to-be on her hen party who would let you rip of her tights with your teeth if you gave her 10€. She’s a keeper that’s for sure.

With the precision of a Wilkinson Quattro Titanium, Simon somehow managed to herd the troops away from the ‘fest to a restaurant reservation in the middle of town. What he hadn’t accounted for, was that we’d all be so drunk at this point and a menace to the other diners. A pot was smashed, Sam played the drums, candles were rearranged… complaints were made. 3 hours later, we still hadn’t been kicked out and we moved onto a cocktail bar to much the same effect.

casual

Between the restaurant and the cocktail bar Adam had gone to buy cigarettes from Lidl and in order to “not look weird buying just cigarettes” he’d also purchased ham and cheese slices, which he proceeded to hang over his ears and face, truly pissing off the people on the table next to us. Obviously we were having an absolute whale of a time but we thought it best that we left, so we headed back to the ‘fest.

By now the rain was powering down but we still had time to experience the fairground attractions, shelling out 5€ a pop for each ride. The owners of these rides obviously hadn’t had much to do all day as they left us literally hanging at the top of one of the rides, 50 metres up exposed to all the element in my Lederhotpants.

It was now kicking out time from the ‘fest’s tents and, admitting defeat in our beer search we headed back to the Hotel, a full 13 hours after our first Schluck of beer. After a few astute purchases from the local petrol station (Mountain Dew, Milk and Pringles to name but a few) we piled into the largest of our three hotel rooms to enjoy our treats. Flicking on the TV we stumbled across the soft porn channel which led Nonie to exclaim “I’ve never seen so many fake boobs in my life!”. A short crisp fight ensured Scouse and Adam would have a crunchy night’s sleep .

Despite my body’s desperate cry for sleep, my brain awoke at half past 8 and after turning off the soft porn that was inexcusably still rolling I began gathering my things and washing myself. There was to be one more stop on Simon’s perfectly planned weekend. But first, our ferocious hunger had to be seen to. Vapiano’s saw to that.

In Stuttgart, you’re pretty much either Bosch or Mercedes and atop the Hauptbahnhof is a huge rotating Mercedes logo with an impressive view out over the city, despite the weather. Simon then informed us, that that was all Stuttgart had to offer in terms of sightseeing, so we retired to park benches where we did mexican waves at bemused cyclists.

This left us with the small matter of getting home to our respective adopted cities. Easier said than done for some. Marcus and I got onto our 1500 coach back to Munich and that was it, the end of the weekend.  The next time I’ll see those boys will most likely be back in Leeds, sitting in Royal Park Pub watching the football. And Adam will probably have candles in his ears.

Year Abroad is coming to an end! D:

Westwing Spring Break!

As someone once said “A picture is worth a thousand words” and seeing as how much has happened in the past ten days I feel it best to put all the pictures from my week in one place. What better way to show what I’ve been up to?

Westwing Spring Break Party

As is accustomed, Westwing held their tri-yearly work party, what with it being spring, they opted for the somewhat-difficult-to-create-in-a-work-environment theme of ‘Spring Break’ – although presumably without the sea, sex and sand elements. Sun, though we had in abundance! For 2 days. It seems Munich is only able to maintain good weather for 2 days at the moment, so we were lucky that the two events coincided. DJ Dan Mc Loud (I can only assume he was Irish) was on hand to dish out the classic tunes and after a rather long time in the obligatory photobooth we hit the dancefloor.

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Our receptionist Jitka is just amazing

2 things I learnt from this evening:

  • You can’t give an englishman free alcohol and expect him not to get ruined.
  • Bumping and grinding with colleagues is never a great idea.

However, somehow I was in no way the worst! Poor, young, recently hired Philip (now known as Kotzi, meaning the little one that throws up) ended the night in a hospital. Poor lad.

After a quiet Friday night watching the Lion King and a quiet Saturday day reviewing yet another 1860 München defeat. Then the house party in the flat above me happened and it was fantastic. It was Eva’s birthday and it was great to meet even more people from the block, including a guy who I was convinced was Kiefer Sutherland Lost Boys-era. Looking back, I was very, very wrong. See for yourself:

me and jack 2

not Jack Bauer and I

However, there was the occasional nice photo as seen here!

Naturally there were also a few terrible ones (thanks Agathe for having it as your profile picture!)

However, the funniest moment (looking back) was yet to come. Having told one of Eva’s work colleagues that I could play guitar I took her down to my room to show off my skills. Unfortunately, I was very much lacking. Some part of my drunken mind felt that playing James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful”, thus waking up all of my other housemates with my caterwauling. It was done COMPLETELY by accident but it’s certainly gained notoriety in our building!

Other than this we celebrated Maria’s birthday last night by going to the Hirschgarten, aptly name because it’s a garden with Hirsch(deer) in it. Marcus and colleagues joined us but we were massively disappointed to find that NONE of the Westwing lovelies (including you, David) had not donned the Lederhosen like us! Never mind, we looked great.

 

This weekend sees us celebrating Simon’s birthday in Stuttgart, at the biggest beer festival in Germany, other than Oktoberfest. It’s going to be heavy, that’s for sure. Check back to find out what other hilarious things I’ve done!

Hamstring tear casts doubt on Thorpe’s season!

Note to self: must. stay. positive.

 

After a Skype call with my parents last week they informed me that my blog had taken a rather unsavoury turn towards misery. “Cheer up” was the main message they were trying to get across to me. It’s not to say that I was in any way upset or depressed, it just so happened that my posts seemed to come out that way!

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Hair twins

Almost everything that has occurred since I last blogged seems to have been in some way related to football. After a positive experience last time at Toni & Guy’s hairdressers I decided that regardless of the price I’d be going back there. Too many times in my life I’ve been a victim of a terrible haircut and have spent weeks ruing my advancing forehead (or receding hairline). It may have cost me an eye watering 45€ but the girl cutting my hair was lovely, mildly attractive and gave me a great chance to practice some more German. Oh and I was also pleased with the results! Now, over his time he has had some terrible haircuts (also due to losing his hair I must add) but to come out of the hairdressers looking like ex Liverpool and Chelsea legend Raul Meireles is not necessarily a bad thing.

Earlier in the year you may recall that I played in a football match for Munich Irish Rovers against the league leaders, a turkish team called Bajuwaren III. We’d played fantastically and with 10 minutes to go took the lead. From this point we thought we had 3 points in the bag, especially as the opposition were arguing amongst themselves. This was not to be the case. Straight from the kick-off their captain booted two of our players and looked like he was going to kill someone. The referee, naturally, sent him off but this was just fuel to the fire at this stage. After trying to fight with most of our team he then turned on both the referee and his mum. Perhaps fearing for his life the referee abandoned the game. All the evidence favoured us. Surely there was no way we wouldn’t get the 3 points? Wrong. Despite the overwhelming evidence we were told by the league that we’d have to replay the match, and this is what happened on Thursday.

After a delay due to a no-show from the allocated referee the match began and we found ourselves very quickly a goal down. Taking to the field in my newly bought boots I played better than I had done for a long time for the Rovers and assisted the assist (a much undervalued stat) which got us back into the game, 1-1. Despite numerous chances for both teams, the match finished as a draw, which did feel a tad like 2 points lost after the first match, but never mind.

After further football training on Thursday I showered, ate and headed over to Sabrina’s to get my drink on with her and her friends before we headed to Max & Moritz. Arriving at around 1am, a very obvious demographic could be seen on the dancefloor – namely drunk, horny, mostly english, teenagers. Then again the drinks were a euro each so we quickly caught up with them in one aspect.

A few euros later...

A few euros later…

At this point a notable mention must go to the forty-something bloke who’d headed to Max & Moritz on a Friday night with the sole intention of throwing some crazy shapes. And boy did he. Very quickly he created a radius of 5 metres around himself, enter this zone and you were in danger of catching a flying fist, leg, elbow, knee, head. Great stuff.

The night ended with a couple of ballads in the 90s room, belting out Atomic Kitten’s ‘The Tide Is High’ and Backstreet Boys’ ‘I Want It That Way’ to name but a few.

Saturday and Sunday finally saw the arrival of sun in Munich, but due to a hangover and an injury respectively I was mostly unable to enjoy it.

Sunday’s match for Irish Rovers was by far my best so far in the classic green and white hoops. Playing on the left-wing, I had the right back tied in knots and even managed to win a penalty with the last kick of the first half. Shitting myself, I shirked responsibility and the unfortunate Bushell scrubbed his effort wide. By the second half the opponents seemed to have clocked that I was having a purple patch and was marked more tightly. NOT THAT IT MATTERED. Whether it was the jägerbombs still coursing through my veins or the fact that I’m solar-powered I don’t know but I was able to run at the defence every time I received the ball and as a result I was fouled more times than I care to remember. The worst of these resulting in my ear-piercing to tear my ear slightly and bleed like a bad man. It’s still bleeding now.

Then, after around 80 minutes I peeled off my defender to run into space and all of a sudden my right hamstring went. Obviously I’d picked today of all days to ride my bike to football but thanks to the large family car and kindness of Geoff I was able to be dropped off outside my door where I could hobble inside. The doctor has put a 6-8 week time period on the recovery which could, unfortunately mean I may never play for Irish Rovers again. Let’s hope this isn’t the case! Maybe I’ll be able to make a cameo in the last game of the season but if not, then I guess I’ll just have to enjoy the sunshine and the imminent arrival of Frühlingsfest at the weekend – it’s a tough life!

 

 

The Rise & Fall of ‘Ohne Alkohol April’

It’s been a rather peculiar week. After finally piecing my life back together on Tuesday I began ohne Alkohol April in a positive mood. Work was going relatively well and I was busy enough that I wasn’t finding myself with too much time to think.

With typical German efficiency Thomas had invited Karin, Ellie and I around over a week in advance and Thursday was to be that night. After a pleasant little cycle to his flat we settled down and began to get our drink on – I was sticking with Coca Cola, which earned me a lot of odd looks and abuse from the others! So after catching up we turned on the PS3 and loaded Singstar. Bypassing some absolute CLASSICS in the online library (think ‘Video Killed The Radio Star’, ‘I Am The One & Only’) we downloaded Atomic Kitten’s version of ‘Eternal Flame’, Aloe Blacc’s only song and ‘House Of The Rising Sun’. It was obvious Thomas had been practising as he destroyed us, particular highlights being mine and Ellie’s rendition of ‘Disco 2000’ and Thomas and Karin’s touching ‘Song 2’.

Once we’d thoroughly embarrassed ourselves we moved onto a variation of the classic passing-time-on-a-car-journey game, Consequences. This version involved each person writing a sentence which the next person would have to draw. This would then be passed once again, and from what the second person had drawn the third person would have to write what they think was originally written. The fourth person then draws a final picture of the sentence before opening it up, at which point much laughter ensues.

Here’s an example.

I wrote “Rolf Harris is touching a Buddha’s head with his right hand whilst punching a dog in the balls with his left”. Seeing as how Rolf Harris was never as popular in Sweden or Germany as he was in England this was a pretty tricky one.

Fair play to her, Ellie didn’t shy away, drawing a very accurate representation:

pretty accurate if you ask me!

pretty accurate if you ask me!

Karin’s turn next and unfortunately she wasn’t quite as successful.

“That weed guy we know lives in Japan but he’s from Australia and he has a dog”

Most of the correct pieces of information are there, just not how they were meant to be! I don’t think Thomas put a great deal of effort into his drawing:

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Reading it back it doesn’t sound as hilarious as it was at the time. I guess you had to be there.

Saturday started with a blissful lie-in, something that occurs FAR too infrequently in my opinion. I headed into with a lists of tasks for the day and was pretty successful, booking a haircut, buying new football boots and getting a food shop in at long last. It seems that even with my lie-in I hadn’t slept enough and I had a delightful power nap after dinner before arranging our predrinks for Julio Bashmore’s DJ set at Kong. Helena and Greggers made their way over to mine and after an enlightening toilet trip I came to the decision that ohne Alkohol April was over. You only live abroad once, after all.

We walked from mine up to the club relatively early, expecting a huge queue as there was no way to preorder tickets or guestlist. We almost walked directly past it as there wasn’t a single person queuing! We headed a street further and sat down in a park with a friend of mine, Daniel who had now arrived. I have not drunk in a park since before I could legally drink and I have to say it’s just fantastic. It’s dark, you’re with your friends and these two things seem to evoke philosophical conversations. Although Helena was able to turn every topic back to sex in a matter of seconds. We were just about to head to the club when a police car pulled up and 2 police men and approached us. As we were to learn, it is illegal to drink in parks in Munich but not on the street, which was a mere 10 paces away from us. Luckily, these were 2 nice policemen more interested in finding drugs than fining us. After the most thorough frisking of my life they bid us farewell and wished us a pleasant evening.

Entering the club, we continued drinking and dancing and I even bumped into my friend from work, Georgij who was there with his cousin and a few friends. SO MUCH DANCING OCCURRED. I have to say, I’m being won over by house and proper dance music. I’m not saying I’d choose to listen to it in my bedroom (I wouldn’t) but it beats an awful lot of the terrible chart music that is so often played in clubs.

At around four Greggers and I headed to McDonald’s and took our chicken burgers and sat on the fountain at Stachus. We must’ve talked for the best part of an hour (although I get the feeling I may have talked for almost an hour, leaving Greggers to listen). But still, thoroughly enjoyable and it perked me up no end. I got into bed around half past 5, knowing that I’d need to wake up in 6 hours to go and report on 1860 München. It probably won’t surprise you to hear that they were disappointing YET AGAIN. It’s just my luck really, 1860 haven’t won at home since I’ve been reporting! Also, anybody who is currently in Munich grab yourself a copy of The Munich Eye in print! Going out on Thursday!

Fuck you, Insomnia

It’s something that I’ve not had to deal with for a very long time. Since I was back in college, truth be told. It all started a few days ago and I tried ignoring it, marking it down as an anomaly but slowly those same old feelings are creeping back again, and again. Whether it’s my back pains, the problems swirling around my head or my unhealthy lifestyle I don’t know. All I know is that I LONG to sleep once more.

Here’s something I wrote about Insomnia several years ago, back when it was at its worst. All characters are completely fictional.

 

Tick tock, tick tock.
I lie there listening, alone, awake.
The seconds slipping through my fingers like sand through an hourglass.
I stare at my clock’s long black hands barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness of the night.
Two Twenty-Four.
Too late to stay up, too early to get up.
In limbo, between this week and the next.
The more I listen the louder it gets, burrowing deep into my consciousness, pounding at my skull like the bells of Big Ben.
Below me I can hear the insufferable drawl of the man from number eight.
He’s asleep, why aren’t I?
Who am I kidding; I know why I’m still awake, I’m trying to delay the sunrise and the inevitable monotony that will follow, the next day, the next week.
Prolonging the time before I have to return to work, for what is waiting for me there.
Through my eyelids I feel the glare of the standby light, its red eye staring at me as I lie awake.
I sit up, wiping away the sleep which has ironically begun to form in the corners of my eyes.
The room that greets me is the picture of sadness; my room.
Cheap clothes lie strewn lazily over the back of chairs, more awkward even, than when I drape them over my own skeletal frame.
One coffee mug, left, forgotten.
White-washed walls stand bare and impersonal existing as nothing more than a blank canvas.
The cupboards lay empty, the result of a weekend wasted; fretting, worrying, starving.
On the far wall a neatly stacked shelf of my medication staring at me with spiteful eyes.
A man with too much time on his hands.
But the seconds keep ticking away.
Tick tock, tick tock.
I lie back down, unable to bear the sight of my lonely existence anymore.
My eyes close to shut it out, for now at least.
I can hear the cars crawling along outside.
Night commuters.
Urban foxes raiding the city under the cover of darkness.
On their way to a late shift perhaps.
Work.
He’ll be there.
Waiting.
Laughing.
They all will.
I let out a long sigh, the sort that only seems necessary late at night.
The kind that lifts the weight off your chest and make you feel light as a feather before the inescapable intake brings all your problems crashing back down on you, pressing harder than before.
I shift over onto my side, left, and pull the duvet up tight around me trying to hide myself from the reality I have created, to lock it up and throw away the key, to erase the memory.
But how can I? It has been eating away at me all weekend, poisoning my every thought, spreading like a cancer.
Insomnia I think it’s called, the inability to sleep.
Irritating, when you begin to think about the process of sleeping you never can.
‘Clear your mind of all thoughts’.
A concept that is unhelpful in every other aspect of human life. Once you clear your mind the voice in your head, the devil on your shoulder always whispers ‘Am I asleep?’ Of course, I am not.
Tick tock, tick tock.
‘Hey, do you fancy going for a drink after work?’
Those words will haunt me for some time.
That was the best I could think of.
Weeks of practicing in the mirror and this was all I could muster.
Somewhat of a shot in the foot to enquire with such clichéd drivel.
I could feel my pride and integrity draining away.
Just like the last time.
What’s more I didn’t ask her, I addressed her breasts.
BIG MISTAKE.
Out came this torrent of abuse, like a tidal wave crashing down over a mud hut.
A big, pathetic, stupid mud hut.
All eyes were on me.
Just like the last time.
It seemed as if every being in the office was present.
How can I face them?
I zoned out – to protect myself more than anything.
I’m not very good with criticism.
‘Anyway, I’m with Colin.’
That’s what she said.
Public Schoolboy Colin.
The owner’s son.
The smug pompous git.
I never liked him, the v-necked sweater that squeezed his corpulent stomach so tightly you could see the fibres protesting, never appealed to me.
How could I have been so stupid?
I should have seen the signs: the looks exchanged; they would leave the office together.
Maybe I was just acting under the false premise that it was just one great big coincidence, that there was no relationship.
I offered myself up like a lamb to slaughter.
Again.
Final nail in the proverbial coffin.
I was to be buried alive.
Sacrificed as the office scapegoat.
Or at least I will be when I get there tomorrow.
Today.
Three Fourteen.
I need to get some sleep.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Four Twelve.
I get up, again.
Incapable of sleep.
Sickness grabs at my stomach.
I run to the sink, my whole body retching, but nothing comes.
The red mist which I have been fighting against descends.
How can I live on like this?
What do I have to live for?
All these questions for which I have no answers.
I throw myself to the floor, a mess of emotion, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Through watery eyes I look up and there it is – the one thing which I have been trying to live without – the drugs.
I clamber to my feet crippled with despair heading for the shelf.
With shaking hands I unscrew the lid of the bottle labelled ‘Lithium Carbonate – One pill daily’.
Sobbing to myself I slowly finger the pills out of the bottle until I have five lying in my hand.
In to my mouth one by one until my palm is empty.
Staggering back to my bed I lie down.
The objects in the room lose their focus as the colours around me gently blend into a soft grey.
I feel myself drifting, closer and closer to my peace.
My eyelids heavy, my breathing slower.
Slipping gradually into my dark abyss, all my problems just ebbing away.
Nirvana.

This has to stop.

Alcohol is a bad thing. Back in the UK I used to know my limits and would stop when I’d had enough to drink. In Munich however, that’s not the case unfortunately. It is far too regular an occurrence that I will wake up after a night out with no memory of what happened and usually missing something. If it wasn’t for extreme luck on Friday I would have taken my Munich ‘things lost’ tally up to 1 phone, 1 wallet, 2 cameras, 1 set of keys and an iPod. I’ve NEVER lost anything in my life before due to alcohol and it seems I’m just becoming stupid. Friday was an interesting night. I met up with Helena, Greggers and one of Greggers’ friends and we went to Hofbräuhaus. Being English we started unbelievably early with the first Maß being order just after 4pm. After 2 Maß and a little chat with 2 Luxembourgian blokes sat next to us we headed to the all you can eat Chinese buffet up at Münchener Freiheit. It was a poor showing all round as not many of us even made it onto a second plate. At this point we went are separate ways and Helena and I travelled to Frauenhoferstraße to meet up with Thomas who unsurprisingly had found another random bar that we had to visit. Because it was Good Friday there was a Tanzverbot, meaning no music could be played until after 12am. This gave the bar a pretty weird vibe but we sat down and continued drinking anyways. Switching between English and German we discussed almost every topic under the sun, with Justin Timberlake somehow related to everything. As the clock ticked past 12 the music started and we dancing naturally followed. I hadn’t had time to head home before we went out so I was still carrying round my rucksack with things from the day. In the end I got so drunk that I forgot to take my bag with me when we left , but this was just the start of the mayhem.

Helena and I lazily jumped into a taxi even though the club was a mere 10 minutes walk from my house. We realised that neither of us had any money so we truthfully asked the taxi man to stop at a cashpoint so we could get money out. I hopped out to go to the cashpoint and managed to enter my pin number incorrectly 3 times. This locked my card and because the taxi driver was threatening to ring the police I called my Dad. At 4 in the morning. I was incomprehensible and probably really scared him (sorry Dad) but Helena came to the rescue and withdrew money and we finally made it home. Because I’d left my keys in my bag we had to force our way into the flat and then we were able to sleep.

The weirdest part of the evening was waking up the following morning to find the pair of us clothed in various items of ski-wear. I had obviously thought it a good idea the night before – who needs pyjamas when you’ve got ski wear? As stated before, I was extremely lucky that upon returning to the club the following evening they still had my bag and EVERYTHING was still inside. Did I learn from this? It seems not.

After a 21-2 victory for the Munich Irish Rovers a few of us headed into town to take advantage of not having to work on Monday. Our friend Chris has been to 089 so often over his 18 months in Munich that he was able to secure us a table, leaving 2 middle-aged Germans relatively unhappy. Instead of buying individual drinks like any normal person we bought 2 litres of vodka for the table. Error. I don’t remember a great deal after the 2nd litre but have woken up this morning without my coat and my keys that were inside it. This means I ‘broke and entered’ into our flat for the second time this weekend.

I am really not proud of myself or the person I seem to have become. As such, I have decided to do something about it. This next month will become ‘No Alcohol April’ as I attempt to put my life back together. And no, this is not an April Fools.

We did look good though…