After a totally depressing week watching the daggers lose again who can blame Brian Parish and Dagenham Dan for wanting another change of scenery. So as a treat we sent them off to Madrid to take in a weekend of La Liga action.
Booked several months ago, I am torn as to whether this is a good time to be going or not. At least we will know how we get on before our first game of the weekend starts. It is a tough choice; jet off for a couple of games in the sunshine, or watch your team (possibly) struggle in a game they simply have to win. There is a part of me wishing I was staying in the UK.
Before we get any further, one quick thing; did you know that, on an Android phone, when you try to type in Madrid, it offers the word “masturbated” as well? Honest, its true.
As with most of the airlines that don’t allocate seats prior to boarding, the crowd starts to build up early for the scramble to the departure gate. I had to stop myself doing a pit walk, a la Martin Brundle, because once the gate number appeared, it was like the start of a grand prix. As we approached the first corner, I was certain that we would have at least one coming together. After all, that’s why most watch formula one, isn’t it?
The flight out is also made more eventful by the presence of about forty Spanish school-kids, which means that, as one fellow traveller remarks just as we are about to board the plane, this could be a painful flight. Luckily, it isn’t too bad, and despite leaving Gatwick late (because the fuel truck hadn’t shown up in Madrid on an earlier flight), we land in Madrid just after the scheduled time, and about forty five minutes after landing, we are safely ensconced in our hotel. Let the football begin! Continue reading