Extracts from a Thought

  • Thread starter Thread starter Mike
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bcfc said:
Mike, facebook picture copy and paste? ;)

Funny shizz, this. XD
Click to expand...

No, it's Allison.. Don't you listen to what I tell you?

XD


# # # # #​


August 9th, 2009 (cont.)

I sat down on the edge of my bed, head in my hands, elbows on my knees.

‘. . .’

I stared blankly at my palms (because that was the only thing I could see). At the meeting, we all got placements for football coaching.

‘I’m going to Portugal!’

I really couldn’t believe it. Portugal? I’ve never been there before, is it nice? I have no idea. All I knew was that I was off to Portugal to teach kids how to play football.

Well worth the £495, don’t you think?
 
Brilliant stuff, normally don't like stories like this. XD
 
Yes i do beleive its worth £495 and hopefully it will get you somewhere ! Good Luck in Portugal :)
 
Portugal is cool. Everyone is friednly (but you might get stones thrown at you if you say they talk Spanish :D ;)
 
August 10th, 2009

As I swiftly rolled out of the bed, I noticed a letter had been posted underneath my door. It read:

Michael,

Congratulations on earning the opportunity to travel to and throughout Portugal to teach youths the ways about football. Please see below the details of your coaching year.

· You will be leaving the UK on Tuesday, September 1st 2009. You will be flying on the 1200 plane from Heathrow to Lisbon’s Portela airport.
· You will be staying and teaching in Lisbon for a period of 58 days, the final day being October 31st. From then on you will receive your next letter(s) describing your next location.
· Please take with you your training gear, name tag, running and sports trainers, and your TheFA.com Certificate for Football Coaching (you will receive this at a later date).
· You will be given £200 worth of Euros to spend and enjoy, courtesy of TheFA.com Coaching Schools.

Finally, I wish you all the best, but mainly enjoy yourself and you never know what – or who – will be around the corner!

Sir Trevor Brooking

Well that was nice, a personal letter from Sir Trevor. And £200 from his pocket. Lovely chap.

We all gathered like school kids in the hallways to announce to one another that they’d received the letter.

‘Lucky bastards!’

Many have been given ‘tropical’ holidays, some are going to Africa, and even one lad off to Australia! Have to laugh though, two are off to Scotland!
 
Can't wait to see what you do in Portugal. Really enjoying this story Mike :D
 
My Dad once drove Sir Trevor to the train station. (H)

Another sexy update by the way.
 
August 10th, 2009 (cont.)

We all met up inside Wembley for a light training session. We got some more tips on how to teach football in a way everybody would understand. The main highlight of the session was probably Edward – or ********, as everyone knows him as – asking a teacher to go to the toilet like a little child. He claimed to be having a slash but he was gone 20 minutes so he must have been having a dump.

As the final whistle blew to cease our match, a few of the lads came over to me.

‘Okay.. what the ****’s this?’

They only came to ask what was Wales actually like, and asked me about the stereotyping. I went along with it and agreed that all Welshmen **** sheep, and one lad even believed me. Quite funny, actually, seeing as he’s from Manchester. No stereotype, but that’s just bad enough!

I looked at my phone on arrival at the hotel room to find that I had two missed calls and a text. The calls were from (drum roll, please) Allison and the message was from an ex: we ended our relationship not long ago. The text was short and sweet – Ring me asap x. There’s nice, an ex-girlfriend that wants to talk after humiliating me.

I rung her.

Whoops.




August 10th, 2009 (cont.)

It’s midnight, and I’m still not asleep. I’ve been dented by that awful decision to ring my ex-partner.

‘So, how are you?’, ‘I’m fine, I’m flying to Portugal in a few weeks.’, ‘Really? Nice. I’m pregnant.’

. . . w-h-a-t?

‘3 months. It’s yours. And I want you to be a loyal and doting father.’

I didn’t know what to do. Do I say something nice? Do I tell her to get rid of it? Do I ask her to ask someone else to be the ‘father’? I can’t have a kid. Not now, no way. I’m off to Portugal in two weeks. And I won’t be back until next year some time.

Dear Lord, help me.



August 11th, 2009

I didn’t drop off until well past 2:00 this morning so I trained quite tiredly today. I was knackered – aching; my body just one big ache. I couldn’t be arsed in other words. That’s not the attitude leading up to the whole Portugal thing, I know, but I genuinely could not be bothered.

I phoned Allison when I got in. That was stupid. I feel like I’m tied up between her and the ex. She told me of her longing to see me and wanted to ‘get busy’ with me.

‘What have I let myself into?’

I agreed to meet up with her, but only for a social – we met in Tennant’s bar. Seems like our rendezvous point now.

. . . . .​

It was 4 o’ clock and after a few pints she asked to go back to her house. I accepted the request, but swore to myself that it’d only be for an hour or so before I head back to the hotel.

I was still there at eight…
 
Mike :S

I thought it was only Sheep you knocked up. :(
 
August 11th, 2009 (cont.)

houseallison.jpg

I had finally arrived back at the hotel by half past ten – five hours longer than planned. I’m beginning to think differently of her now. She’s a genuinely good girl with an extraordinary laugh that tickles your spine. We chatted about Portugal, the possibility of her singing career and the future.

‘Future? Next month – I’m in Portugal.. Get in!’

This really upset her as she enjoyed my company. To be honest, I’m starting to enjoy hers, too.

Anyway, that was it. We didn’t do anything bar the things I already mentioned.

I dropped off to sleep and forgot about everything.



August 15th, 2009

Portugal seems ages away, yet it’s only sixteen days. I tried to take my mind off it during the tour of Old Trafford, but it wouldn’t go away. We walked through corridors full of framed pictures of the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo and Nani.

‘Heh, heh.. Nani!’

The match was an exceptional one. Free-flowing passes, admirable crosses, sublime tackles – everything you need in a good match. We were told to take notes on the various goings-on and see where we could improve that area or event (shot, tackle etc.). I came with a load of points, many more than the United fans it seemed.

When we got back to the hotel in Warrington, we were all asked to voice an opinion on the game.

I came up with this:

‘It was United. Giggs, Rooney, Nani (heh!).. what else can you say? They played beautiful football every team will envy.’

Not much to say, but it summed up the whole match.

. . . . .​

I got a phone call later in the night, this time it was my dad. Once again, after my text to him a couple of days ago, he announced that he was proud of his son and wished me the very best abroad. I told him I couldn’t wait to go, and I promised to bring back a souvenir. He said he didn’t mind, but I like to be like that. He’s looked after me my whole life but the times are changing.

. . . . .​

I stayed up in the room all night (and a bit of the morning!) watching Match of the Day – I saw Edward, lucky *******! – and the beginning of The Bourne Ultimatum, eating chocolate raisins. I went to see it when it was out in the cinema and I really liked it so I didn’t mind watching it again. I got an unusual text from a mate back in South Wales asking if I was up to a night out sometime.

‘Yeah, in a few years!’

Time to sleep.. it’s been a long day!
 
Why choose the worst Bourne film? :(

Storyline seems to be shaping up though. ^^)
 
bcfc said:
Why choose the worst Bourne film? :(

Storyline seems to be shaping up though. ^^)
Click to expand...

Worst? Probably because it's the most recent one |)

Anyway, you might have a surprise in the next update. That's you.. nobody else :)
 
Sheep?! :D

Or some other gay thing...
 
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