Thanks for visiting if the is the first time! Here is my blog covering my train travels to watch Wales play Croatia and Hungary. If you want to check more pictures of the trip you can follow me on Instagram by clicking here.

Day 1, Newport to Frankfurt.

A two hour period of non existent overtime in work meant that I was feeling a tad miserable the night before the trip, seeing as I still had packing to do and I didn’t have the opportunity to purchase an extra pair of 1.50 sunglasses from Primark. I did however have a plethora of USB cables, adapters and power banks in addition to six billion hours of Netflix programmes so at least the important things were taken care of.

As planned our taxi collected us at 6:30 and we boarded the 7:10am train from Newport to London Paddington. The miraculous thing about the trip was that our combined first-class train fares across the continent were only marginally more expensive than your normal first class return to London, especially during Wednesday peak hour. The nice lady in a suit tapping away at her laptop opposite hopefully escaped the world of economic pressure that possesses her as she noticed that I was probably (definitely) the only person in the cabin to be wearing shorts and a Newport County football shirt!

I didn’t choose the thug life…

Apart from waiting for about three hours into our two hour journey for a complimentary coffee the first segment of the trip went without fuss, we even decided to walk ten minutes from Paddington to Edgware Road where we caught the tube to St. Pancras.

Having been to Brussels on the Eurostar as little as ten months ago I was a pro going through security with no concerns about how many milliliters my toothpaste was, thanking the lefty loonies and anyone with a bit of common sense that Brexit has yet to occur and it only taking 30 minutes to get through security and customs rather than 42 years as it may after October if that homophobic xenephobe Nigel Farage gets his wish.

Anyway, moving away from Question Time, we boarded the Eurostar and as soon as we set off we were delivered lunch. Peter had the veggie quiche while I went for 3 small slices of chicken with a collection of pulses and a strand of finely chopped pepper. I have to mention it also came with a bread roll and a small bottle of wine so on the whole I was happy. I find the standard (peasant) seats on the Eurostar really comfy anyway and would recommend it you’re popping over the channel to Disneyland, Paris, Lille, Brussels or Amsterdam for a short break. But that’s enough about Mickey Mouse at least until the football starts!

Eurostar nosh

We had a little over two hours in Brussels that was wasted with a 3 Euro (FML) coffee outside the station before we boarded the train that would take us straight to Frankfurt. The coach wasn’t on par with UK first class as you’d expect but the seats were comfortable and the wi-fi was acceptable.

The journey took us through some notable places including Liege, Bonn – which was the capital of the old West Germany and Cologne. It was really nice to visit Cologne/Koln again. I have been there once before on a school trip some 17 years ago as a youthful teenager. It brought back fond but almost forgotten memories of time spent admiring the Christmas market, banks along the Rhine and the cathedral that probably had the same scaffolding ruining its beauty as it did back in 2002!

Cologne brought back some fond memories

We arrived in Frankfurt, the financial capital of Germany 45 minutes late at 8:20pm. This was a little disappointing as top of my list was to visit the Main Tower that had a viewpoint of the city, but we wouldn’t have made last orders in time.

Not to be disheartened, we checked in to our Frankfurt hostel, which was called… wait for it… “Frankfurt Hostel” and with a good hour of sunshine remaining headed towards the river. Populated green riverbanks was a pleasant sight in the summer heat and the walkway bridge was probably the place to have your photo taken. We duly obliged then went off in search of some dinner, fearful of having to settle for anything less than a German sausage.

Main man on Main river!

I left Pete in charge of finding a restaurant, he knowing full well I wouldn’t expect to pay more than a fiver for glorified sausage and chips. True to form he ignored this and I knew I had to increase my budget fourfold as we walked through the financial and fashion streets of the Centre, finally ending up at a busy but welcoming restaurant after twenty minutes or so.

Pleased with the amount on offer for a somewhat fussy eater (quantity over quality) I decided on the pork knuckle with two sausages served with sauerkraut and fried potatoes. I have boycotted sauerkraut since it’s introduction into life during a break Krakow, Poland about 7 years ago and the love for it was still estranged, although I did have a go. The salty selection of swine was however very enjoyable and worth the 25 Euro with a coke. We considered stopping for a beer on the return to our hostel, but the long day had taken its toll. I’ve yet to beg for your sympathy, stating that I walked all day in pain with my tendonitis flaring up the night before, taking too many strong painkillers throughout the day. Thanks, you can put your violin away now. (As I write this on day two it seems to have passed…)

Walk around Frankfurt, looking up at the Main Tower and our decent tea!

So, we walked back to our hostel, past the Main tower, a stone’s throw from the train station and headed up to the fifth floor and our private room. Our 32 degrees, fanless, airconless room.

Day 2, Frankfurt to Zagreb.

After an initial struggle getting to sleep in the heat our period of rest was pleasant enough. Even the early morning shower having to hold the showerhead was not a major problem. A stroll to the station to grab a croissant, coke zero and some ciggies led us to our 8:20am departure that – in thirteen hours – would send us to the Croatian capital.

Frankfurt am Main Hbf station.

As we boarded the EC213 Mimara that would take us direct to our destination through the remainder of Germany, all of Austria and Slovenia, we were treated to a first class cabin with comfortable seats. The cabin, like that you would see on the Hogwarts Express, was fully booked according to the notice, so as the train pulled away we were delighted that we were the only ones in the cabin and I put pen to paper on the day one blog.

Without a recent phone upgrade I would have burst in to tears once realising that there was no on board wi-fi, but no thanks to the Brexiteers amongst you, I enjoyed indulging in to my 15GB of data as I would do at home.

The luxury didn’t last too long though, as a few stops later a gentleman suited up joined us. As I was blogging away it was pleasant overhearing him and Pete discuss their professions and European politics. The gent departed at Munich and once I managed to escape for a cigarette was joined by a couple, then another couple, from the United States.

It turned out our four new fellow travellers, who lived in Oregon and Minneapolis respectively, had just been to a global gathering of Rotarians (those who are members of a Rotary Club) in Hamburg and using it as an opportunity to extend their visit to see the continent.

Sensible Americans we shared our cabin with.

Once we had a brief spell in the restaurant (restaurant… lolz as if) and consumed a welcome chicken schnitzel burger, plus my first beer of the trip I might add, we returned to our carriage and enjoyed conversation, once we established that everyone agreed that their president is a complete fucking moron. This was a good job, as we still had nine hours together!

My mate Pete is secretary of the Newport Rotary Club so was able to hold interesting conversation comparing how clubs operate across the world. It was also appropriate to bring up our past involvement with the YMCA (which is much, much bigger in the US). Today, 6th June 2019 was actually the 175th anniversary of the young people’s movement that provided me with so much opportunity in years passed. Also poignant that the day was the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landings, and we were all too happy to explain to our American neighbours how UK YMCA’s supported troops during wartime.

The first stop inside Austria was Salzburg. The ten minutes it took to separate the train in two have us enough time to step out and admire the surrounding Alps, something that would be a constant feature during our drive through the Western part of the country.

One of 6 million pics I took of the Alps…

Words can’t paint a picture of the countless moments of sheer beauty we witnessed through the carriage window.

Austrian village called Bad Gastein, I think…

Conversation tired a little as the hours went by and we entered Slovenia 30 minutes later than planned. One of our American couples were leaving us at Ljubljana to spend a few days and after we passed Bled train station they promised me that they would visit the beautiful lake-side town, that I had the fortune to visit on a stag do thirteen months prior. As Croatia approached and the sun started to fall we were all ready to get to our destination. Passport control on the Croatian border went without a problem, and the nice grumpy lady stamped my passport, then it took just another 30 minutes to arrive in Zagreb.

Pride prep outside Zagreb station

Our initial intentions of walking to our accomodation for the next three nights were scrapped as we hailed a taxi, then in unison decided tonight we shall spend it in the hotel with a visit to the restaurant and the bar. After my tea of pork and fried potatoes (two nights running) we watched in desbelief as YET AGAIN football in fact wasn’t coming home, England losing three-one to Holland after extra time in the inaugural Nations League semi final. Shame.

The long ass day was brought to an end in our comfortable hotel room, a quick half an our browse planned the next days itenerary around the Croatian Capital city of Zagreb.

Day 3, Zagreb

Waking up in 23 degree heat actually turned out to be one of the cooler mornings of the trip. We enjoyed a hearty breakfast buffet in the hotel consisting of all your continental favourites and the money shot; sausages and bacon.During my rushed plan for the day prepared last night I noticed that there is a horseshoe shape of parks and gardens between the train station and city centre so headed up through the left side of this, passing the impressive (and very yellow) national theatre. We were already hunting down stops of shade as we headed further in to the centre passing boutique shops on our way up the hill to see one of the top sights.

Our climb up the hill was aided by a funicular, in fact one of the worlds shortest funiculars spanning just 66 metres. When I heard this I did think of the one near Ebbw Vale school but apparently this is a “mechanical lift” and not a funicular – and even then is probably longer than the effort in Zagreb.

The four minutes waiting in the full carriage withdrew more sweat than taking the stairs up, however once at the “summit” we were treated to a nice view over southern Zagreb, albeit no real sights to focus on. A brief walk around the cobbles streets led us to St Marks Square that houses parliament and St Marks Church with its spectacular roof design. We were just in time to take a good photo before police cornered the square off – someone important was coming!

The important person turned out to be none other than Jean-Claude Juncker, president of the European Commission. He was greeted with Croat soldiers holding guns and a brass band pumping out various anthems. Thankfully no hard brexiteers were seen absolutely fuming that “we” paid for his petrol to the square instead of funding our NHS (citation needed… Boris??)

As Pete wanted to hang around to get a glimpse of the man himself I stood back, had a ciggy and was delighted to overhear a tour guide explain the reason behind the well known Croation checker-board pattern that dons their flag and football kit, and indeed the roof of the Church. Simply, back in the day Mr important Croation person beat Mr important Italian person in chess, and Croation person was SO happy at this he decided to add it to the coat of arms. God knows what he would have done if Croatia had won the football World Cup in 2018!

Once all of the excitement had passed we stopped for a coffee (i.e. lager) and headed towards the busier part of the centre. On the way we rambled past the last remaining stone gate surrounding the old town (then called Gradec) and is now home to a shrine to Mary Magdeline (Baby Jesus’ old girl). It was rather strange walking through the passage with a couple of pews to one side and the shrine on the other.

Stone gate

Grateful for the walk downhill we meandered through the maze that was a colourful marketplace of flowers and fresh food. I did wonder with so many people selling the same things at the same price what one’s USP could be, but everyone seemed content just accepting custom as it arrived.

Dolac market

To be honest there really wasn’t much to see in Zagreb and by lunchtime we had already hit our last port of call, the gianormous Zagreb Cathedral. Once I had uploading a post to Instagram suggesting that Jesus (Joe Allen) should be at training instead of standing atop a statue – perhaps a tad distastefully – we had a wander around inside, Peter giving me some great knowledge of different areas of the church and stories.

Zagreb Cathedral

Another short walk downhill from the cathedral we found somewhere for lunch, passing a minuture scale 3D map of the city that wouldn’t look out of place on the Game of Thrones credits (a lot of which was filmed in other areas of Croatia such as Dubrovnik for Kings Landing). For lunch I went for a tuna steak with sweet potato puree and a side of glazed broccoli (and a beer) whilst Pete went for a rather sizeable burger. As I was planning on having a few beers later I was really pleased with myself for having something healthy… a constant annoyance on the trip was how salty everything was, which really gets me when I’m hot and dehydrating.

*hums Game of Thrones tune*

We stayed in the restaurant for a few more beers, people watching out on Jelacic Square before deciding as the day still had a long way to run, we should head back to the hotel, return later once cooler and in my case a chance to do some laundry! Not your average football away trip when your experimenting with travel wash on a Friday afternoon!

The couple of hours rest refreshed our walking capabilities and after yet another shower it was time to go “out out”.

As our bus to the game tomorrow would be dry (no booze) it was of great importance that I had my allocation at some point! Having had such a good lunchtime at the restaurant earlier, we headed back to Johann Franck and enjoyed a few more beers and a mojito for Peter that I’m glad I didn’t have to donate a kidney for. Now the sun had set we walked back up the hill towards old town where we knew a large contingent of Welsh fans would be. After a quick beer here Pete headed back for the hotel, giving me free rain to talk to various people from Aberdare to Abergele… it’s always nice to get asked about the County – even nice when they’re Wrexham fans! From one pub to another and a quick beer with my friend Craig and his buddies from Newport and it was time to head downhill and start the 40 minute walk back to the hotel. Or it would have been had I not been swayed by a sign promoting Croatian cider! Although it was now heading towards 2am I thought it worthy of another hour in the now peaceful surroundings, finally making at back to the hotel at around 3:30am.

1:40am not the best time to find delicious Croatian cider!

Just don’t remind me that I had to be up at 7 to catch a bus to the game tomorrow….

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Day 4, Day trip to Osijek

Matchday! I did have every intention of being sober-ish on the day of the game, but running in to that cider the night before pushed me over the edge a little.Nevertheless, I was able to wash and scoff as much breakfast buffet in seven minutes before we walked five minutes to City Hall where the “Wonky Sheep” coaches would take us three hours to Osijek in the Eastern part of the country. As no alcohol was allowed on the bus I was able to enjoy re-hydrating myself with water and some Fanta I forgot I bought on the way back the previous night, albeit forever decreasing in temperature in another day of 30+ degree heat.

Apart from witnessing some light-hearted conversation between Wales and Croatia fans at our service stop there wasn’t much to write about until kick-off. Before the game we were dropped off at our designated pub that had a set list of tunes from David Bowie to Salt ‘N’ Pepper that were transformed in to player chants. I managed to stomach three pints of local lager and have a decent chat with Griff, who I had only met on Instagram before. He introduced himself as I proudly explained that he is probably the first #hownot2lifer that I had met solely because of writing this crap! Membership number one!

An hour before kickoff we decided to make our own way to the ground slightly ahead of the police escort. It was surreal walking past gardens in a quiet neighbourhood just minutes before reaching the scene of a sold-out international football match.

Arriving at the game, we already knew that the ground would be a bit of a shithole, even so I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad. Unsure of how the grandstand was actually standing, and when they’d have to give it back to Chernobyl) we felt blessed to bypass to security queues and portaloos as we headed to the VIP entrance. Our part of the stadium was luxury in comparison to what most people in the ground had to put up with. Whilst 90% of the Red Wall were open to direct sunlight for two hours, our little section was in the shade and offered us free hotdogs, soft drinks and BEER if you joined the long queue!

The game itself started interestingly enough, Wales holding their own against last years World Cup finalists. Our tactic to play out from the back was increasingly becoming a worry but we missed the best chances before Croatia finally scored from a long ball played to Pulisic who danced past a Welsh defender and buried it past the ‘keeper Hennessey. Hennessey really should have come out to collect the long ball instead of backtracking towards his goal. Disappointing.

If that was bad, shortly after half time the aforementioned “fucking about with it” around our own box cost us and Croatia doubled their lead with ease. It was only then did we start to work the ball forward more, even Gareth Bale had a few touches! By the time Dai Brooks pulled one back – probably deservedly – we looked the better team and had enough chances to equalise during the last end-to-end 15 minutes.

Still, the final whistle was greeted by warm applause, everyone content that we eventually decided to give it a go and could have easily grabbed a draw on another day. We will take that as long as we’d go on to beat Hungary in three days time.

Exiting the ground everyone grabbed as many free drinks as they could carry, consuming whilst waiting in the sun before our coach was allowed to return to Zagreb.

On the way home I was told that former Newport County manager Justin Edinburgh passed away a week after a heart attack which left a sombre mood on the coach – he was only 49.

Not fancying another session on the beer because of that, in addition to zero points and a long day in the sun, the most we could do was to walk to a pizzeria that in turn gave us enough energy to walk back to the hotel.

Day 5, Zagreb to Budapest

Congratulations, you’ve made it to the half way point of the trip!

Having already seen what we wanted to see in the city centre, we identified a nearby lake to spend our last morning, until we would make the treacherous 7 hour train journey to the Hungarian capital.

Pete attended mass at Zagreb Cathedral earlier than planned so we enjoyed breakfast together and caught the tram towards lake Jarun. Another hot day – 33 degrees at one point – tried to persuade me to jump in for a swim but instead we walked the circumference of the body of water, some 1.8 miles. It felt longer, probably due to us stopping for a Coke near the pebbled beach and keeping our eyes to ourselves passing the nudist beach.

A constant throughout the trip was how “off” Google maps was with their estimated walking time. We completed our lap thirty minutes later than suggested to have a waterside lunch. My good effort in not consuming much salt so far went out the window as I went for the mixed grill, only understanding it was supposed to be shared when the waiter brought out two plates prior to the tray of farm.

Impressed that I ate around two-thirds and time ticking on, we called a lazy Uber to take us back to the hotel, collected our luggage and dragged it towards the station.

Not expecting luxury, we settled into our reserved seats, this time without power supply (or lighting that would make departing the train a right menace) and were shortly joined by two ladies originating from the Ecuadorian mountains and a couple wandering around Europe but on the way back to native Australia.

They were again really good company, I didn’t touch Netflix or Spotify and once they laughed at us due to brexit (a recurring theme) we reached another lake, this one slightly bigger and well known called Lake Balaton.

Knowing that a lot of Wales fans enjoyed at least a few hours between their journey here, I was determined to at least get a few good snaps while it was still light outside.

As I stood for 15 miles riding in to the lakes 45 MILE diameter I was just about losing hope, summer homes after resort after caravan park blocked any access to good photographs but as the sun started to flirt with the horizon, perfection.

A brief moment of maybe half a mile opened to give us an unobstructed view of the water as I ferociously battered the camera button. Only when the splendid views were masked once more did I settle and check my work. Whilst most pictures contained a selfish lamppost or railway pillar, about half a dozen, I thought at least, were poetry in motion.

The sun set and we crawled through our remaining dozen or so stops. An hour later than scheduled we arrived at Budapest’s second main train station, looked rather derelict at 11pm. Said our goodbyes and eventually flagged down a taxi.

Grateful that the driver didn’t attempt to rip us off, plus getting a glimpse of the famous parliament building lit up in all its glory we arrived at the hotel. But not any hotel.

“THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL”*

*Officially The Grand Hotel, Budapest…. But don’t be picky.

Day 6, Budapest

Late arriving the night before, we were eager to get in to the centre and see some stuff as soon as possible.

As soon as possible… after I made use of the complimentary swimming pools, jacuzzi and sauna at the hotel. Hopefully, the feel good factor of waking up at 6am, doing a few lengths breaststroke before the day truly starts will continue at home (although it hasn’t yet and I’ve been back a week!).

Our final stop before adventure was to attack the breakfast buffet that was impressive, stained by the fact it was missing bacon of all things. This meant it was the only time I paid the 14 quid for the pleasure. What four star hotel anywhere outside of the Middle East doesn’t serve bacon??

Anyway – we made it outside shortly after 9am and this was the first indication of how bloody big Budapest is. We stayed on the biggest Island on the Danube that runs through the city – At Margaret’s Island – and with complimentary map to hand walked to the nearest metro station to get to the centre. What appeared as a centimetre walk on said map eventually took us half an hour before our soggy selves headed underground, purchased 72 hour passes for £12 and negotiated the simple-enough network.

Rising into daylight, with the parliament building in view nearby, we decided that we had already evaporated enough it was time for a sit down, glass of homemade lemonade and a nose at two locals taking their morning game of backgammon perhaps a little too seriously.

Parliament was indeed our first port of call for our sight seeing sesh, and I don’t think I realised at the time how majestic the building was. Budapest and Vienna were huge players during the years of the Austro-Hungarian empire and their respective buildings present this. Several selfies and an explanation from Pete that the pretty water feature outside was 10% water feature and 90% a barrier for any tank attack, we moved towards the shared river side.

Here we seen our only notable and obvious memorial of the trip. “Shoes on the Danube” is a collection of shoes right near the edge in honour of the Jewish community that were murdered by the nazi-like Arrow Cross movement in the 1940’s. They demanded innocent people including children remove their footwear before shooting them, their bodies taken away by the Danube tide. Terrifying that people with so much hatred towards innocents still exist today.

I didn’t perambulate too much to get the perfect photo but spent a few minutes looking through the notes and flowers, then moved on in search of some more items to bulk up my Instagram story. Again going back to the size of the place, we had to rule out everything on the other side of the river that we could see for another day as we would have never have covered it in a day. Budapest is split in to two areas named (believe it or not) Buda and Pest. Buda will be covered on day eight FYI!

As we headed deeper in to the heart of the centre we bumped in to St Stephen’s Basilica, which to be honest was rather difficult to miss! A brief moment to enjoy some local dance occurring on the stage set up for a concert later that evening, we collected some overpriced refreshment from a souvenir shop and headed for lunch via the Dohány synagogue.

As today was a bank holiday in the country a lot of places and indeed the Jewish place of worship was closed, instead settling at a pizzeria opposite.

“No Newport County troublemakers in here” was aimed at me and my black replica shirt as we sat down. It was Craig, a huge County fan who I’ve known for years enjoying a pint on another table. Ironic that I image he’s caused a lot more ‘trouble’ than I have!

The pizza was good (the pint of lager was better) as we discussed our next plan of action. Already tiring somewhat in the heat we found solace at the biggest park in the city. Whilst Pete had another lemonade in the sun I made the trip across the lake to Heroes Square. The main statue in the middle of the square was accompanied by his mates in a semicircle set of columns. Quite impressive; I wish I took time to find out more about who the geezers were (you are welcome to Google it).

After this we made another waaaay longer than anticipated walk to catch the tram and bus back to the hotel, had a few hours rest and headed back out as the sun was setting, grateful that I could safely wear my sunglasses without fear of melting plastic getting engaged to my sunburnt beak.

Dinner was a little extravagant but enjoyable overlooking the Basilica. Knowing how good the parliament building was from our brief glimpse in the taxi last night we strolled over the Széchenyi Chain Bridge to take some photos of Budapest at night. The bridge was interestingly one of only two such surviving bridges today, the other based near Maidenhead, so I was told.

The detour for photos was a good idea, whilst walking above the river we were treated to great views of the castle and citadel we would visit after match day.

Another good point was my decision not to have a beer *shuts the front door* and we headed back home before midnight – but only just as that walk from mainland to our hotel was a right pain in the picturesque arse.

Day 7, Matchday Budapest!

The second match in four days was upon us, albeit approaching this one a little different as I didn’t have a ticket. In fact, the only game I have ever been to without one.

The only game out of 10 Champions League away games around Europe, the 2009 Champions League Final, 200 or so Manchester United away games, 300 odd home, a Euro 2016 semi-final, seven other Wales away games, the first FA Cup final at the new Wembley, half a dozen other cup finals and Newport County games easily in to the thousands (albeit 99.9% of these were easy to get a ticket!)

Quite a strange feeling, knowing that I would be locked out come kick-off.

What was going for me though, was that it was known there were going to be around 3,000 others in the same boat, plus at least the game was part of a double header. I didn’t come here for nothing – not that you called call four wonderful days in Budapest ‘nothing’.

I started the day with another visit to the hotel spa, this time with more of a plan as to how many lengths I wanted to achieve before relaxing in the jacuzzi. Chill, I was only getting my monies worth.

Instead of the expensive, baconless offering of breakfast we headed in to the city for lunch and found somewhere nice by the basilica that we passed the night before. It is of vital importance – VITAL IMPORTANCE – that one has a decent, substantial meal for brekkie prior to a day on the beer. VITALLY IMPORTANT.

So, a single croissant and two bottles of cider later, I was ready to go.

We headed back to the Jewish quarter as Peter wanted to have a look at the synagogue, closed yesterday if you remembered. Ready to start drowning my ticketless sorrows we first agreed to walk a little further to the apparently famous “ruin bars” that have been set up inside derelict buildings.

We heard that a lot of Welsh fans were refused entry the night before, so with replica shirt adorned we were grateful to walk up the lane into the yard with freedom.

The place was certainly unique. Kind of a ghetto appearance that made me reminisce of some sights I seen in Ljubjana, it was too early to experience how vibrant the place must be when full but there was one bar open and selling cider. Oh how I missed cider.

I got myself two in addition to Pete’s and admired the grungy decor. In the middle of the courtyard was once an old car, transformed into an exaggerated table and chairs. It was here when we noticed the table next to us were three welcoming Brits and started discussing the football. It wasn’t too long before they admitted that they’re from Stafford and are on a “family-lads” holiday. They were EVER so quick to announce they had family in Ebbw Vale and took a genuine interest in us, our trip, and some finer examples of the Welsh dialect.

By the time I suggested it was uncommon for an English person to be in a city of an international football game and had yet to throw any garden furniture around the place, I had already been approaching double figures. Pete had already departed to go do some additional sightseeing and museums and churches and the like that I was grateful for. Not that he went – but so I didnt have to go with him. Pete also decided to watch the game later in the hotel. You couldn’t blame him once I realised my consumption for the day.

Now early afternoon me and my new pals from Staffordshire said our goodbyes as I attempted to find the Welsh fanzone for the day. After having to steady my concentration a little to follow Google Maps I reached Anker’t romkocsma, another establishment set up within a half demolished building housing two bars and already a lot of drunk red shirts!

The hours passed meeting new people and even being interviewed for the Welsh Football Fans video blog as kickoff approached as lucky ticket holders started to make their way to the Groupama Arena.

I forgot to mention that the bars ran out of cider within half an hour of opening. For some weird reason they were more than happy for people to pop to the Spar down the road and bring their own! I took advantage of this, going through 16 bottles of 80 pence blueberry and pear Somersby that afternoon. It was hot and I had to keep hydrated.

As the game started being broadcast on the big screen, I headed to an undercover room (space) with my mate Kyle who I only first met on the coach to the County playoff final a fortnight beforehand. He promises he’s County ’til he dies though so it’s fine.

Only then did I notice how many people actually went to Hungary without tickets. This bar alone must have easily housed 1,200 people, resulting in the only way we could get a view of the game was to stand on a dodgy table at the back of the room. Two rather large gents sharing a table that was no more than 1.5 metres wide or long.

The game kicked off once the anthem was belted out with such passion, that extra bit more passion perhaps, to make up for not seeing the real thing a few kilometres away.

0-0 half time, with nothing much to cheer, that was disappointing considering most deemed this a must win game. Worried that my neck would be in two should I remain on the table for another 45 minutes we escaped the fanzone and found another pub full of Welsh fans a few minutes away, settled in there, forgetting I would have to revert back to the local lager.

As a football travel blog, I really don’t mention the football much, do I?

Well, my friends, it doesn’t help when your team throws in another abysmal performance, missed an absolute sitter and then concede with just a few minutes remaining. To Hungary. Fucking Hungary.

As Kyle departed to meet up with mates I managed to force a few more down as I waited for some of my own pals to return from the game, my only solace once I met them was that I got bought a free pint after kicking off at a local for queuejumping.

The night ended with a few quieter beers in a bar enjoying yet more cider. I’m grateful to remember the conversation that we had with some of the Budapest residents. One of whom was a bisexual Azerbaijani girl, which in itself provided plenty of intrigue and interest to fill the rest of the evening before I was lucky enough to flag a cab down to return me to “the island”.

That single croissant was more than enough.

Yet again, another brilliant day watching the football.

Only to be ruined by the football.

Day 8, Buda side of Budapest.

I woke up at the start of our last full day in the Hungarian capital with a rather sore head. This was certainly expected although I did feel a bit better than I thought I would.

Today we would primarily be seeing the sights in the Buda area, west of the Danube.

Another slog of a journey via bus and metro to the base of a funicular that could elevate us up to the sights, we instead opted to pay a little more, a perhaps pricey 8 quid, to jump aboard a tourist caddy shuttle thingy up and around the old town.

The first port of call was the castle. Although boiling and busy it was a pleasant walk around the gardens, with panoramic views of the river and Pest just a glance away. I must admit I had no interest in making the most of the visit by taking a look inside but outside views always trump and this was no exception.

We made our way back to the shuttle drop off and decided to walk to the next stop on the map. By this point I was agitated by dehydration and once we finally found the only shop around, downed my first two litres of water and cuddled a third for accompanying me. Necessary as I finally coughed through my first ciggy of the day gone lunchtime!

Next, I….. Really needed a sit down. I didn’t feel that much of a drunken state but my feet were telling me otherwise. Fortunately my seat was just outside the Matthias Church, as magnificent as the one in Zagreb you DEINATELY took the time to read about on day 3.

While Pete did something useful and had a look around here, I eventually managed to muster enough energy to walk toward the Fisherman’s Bastian, regarded as the number one viewpoint in the city. I disagree but I’ll tell you why later. It was the perfect selfie opportunity, so in true #hownot2life fashion, it appears I didn’t take one.

After more fluid intake, a splendid raspberry lemonade concoction we walked another five minutes to a tower (actually the Church of St Mary Magdalene I’m learning now) that we could climb on another more active day, next time perhaps. From here we caught the shuttle back down the hill, ignoring the final spot that was the gardens (you can see them from the castle) and back to base.

One more thing about the trip back down, the descent was the other side of the hill i.e. not facing the river. For some reason I was fascinated by the normality of the area, surely off the beaten track to 99.9% of tourists even though it would be a five minute walk from the five star Gellert hotel.

It was about time we had some food and as we both fancied a burger I typed burger restaurant into Google Maps and – well – they did the rest. It was back over the river but knowing that food was at the finish line it was bearable.

Lunch devoured I only had one thing on the agenda and that was to head back to the hotel. That was far away at the best of times but at the time felt as though it was in a different dimension. As soon as we got back to the hotel room I crashed, after just about considering what I would do for my last evening, should I wake up!

I did wake up around half 8 and considered my options for five minutes. Pete was enjoying the entertainment on offer in the hotel bar but there was one thing I still hadn’t ticked off the list.

The citadel and accompanying Liberty Statue was in constant view during our time here and I made a great decision to give it a visit.

More cooler and less useless than I had been earlier, the commute from north to south of the main city centre was more of a ride than a chore this time. It was pushing 10pm by the time I arrived at the aforementioned Gellert hotel. Just a bastard 235 meter walk through a bastard park with no bastard lighting separated me and the lady liberty that looked over everything I had seen so far.

Surprised there was so many people were at the summit enjoying a beer or a quiet chat, cheeky bit of flirting going on too no doubt, I took a few photos of the statue and leant over the barrier and took in the scenery. It gave me an enormous sense of well-being (… Parklife!).

What a lovely place and a great few days, even considering our useless attempt at winning a football game.

Strangely the walk back down seemed to take even longer. Torch on, not panicking at all when some random turned up from the nights forest, directing myself by hope over expectation, finally my last supper was due.

I fancied something hot, filling and tasty… and ended up 45 minutes later with a McDonald’s just before closing at midnight. How not to… you get the picture. The impressive quantity of night buses delivered me back to the hotel and that was that.

Day 9, Vienna for an Evening.

Waking up for our last time in Budapest, I preferred an extra 20 minute lie in over a final visit to the swimming pool. That was probably incorrect.

Hot, long way to centre, blah blah blah as I’ve already covered. I’m racking my brains as to what I had for breakfast that day, but conclude that if it wasn’t memorable it hardly deserves a mention in this majestic piece of blogging… “Art” if you must.

I’m writing this three weeks afterwards so my memory is a bit vague… the whole reason I write the bloody thing the first place mind… but apart from picking up a magnet for the mother can’t recall too much before we made our way via metro and replacement bus service (was like being home) to the coach station.

The station was a stone’s throw away from the Groupama Arena, the scene for the game on the Tuesday. Slightly bittersweet passing but looked a decent small stadium and I’m told the atmosphere inside was incredible.

More food, a hotdog that this time I can recall before we caught the coach, late as usual to Vienna.

We used the well-known-on-the-continent “FlixBus” that offered even more comfort than our National Express, and before I got half an hour in to my latest episode of Designated Survivor I was fast asleep. Pete assured me that I neither snored or dribbled but perhaps he was just being nice.

Rather pissed off my nap had been interrupted so soon… three hours later, we arrived on the outskirts of Vienna, having to battle the metro to get to our hostel.

What the hostel did lack in comparison to our 4 start the nights before, it more than made up for the lack of luxury by lobbing a fan in the room. An actual breeze instead of inept air conditioning.You could tell the trip was coming to an end as we headed to see the sights in Vienna. Pete had visited recently and was really keen to show me around but I think by then I was a completely touristed out.

We seen St Peter’s Cathedral, then St Peter’s Catholic Church. Obviously St Stephen was a bit greedy back in the day. They were as impressive as the sights we’d seen in the other capital cities that week, then moved on to The Hofburg and Spanish Riding School buildings. I am disappointed that I didn’t embrace the countless magnificence and architecture of Vienna, but there’s a chance we’ll travel there en route to Bratislava later in the year when I’ll be a bit more fresh and willing.Last stop before food was the 5 star, apparently famous Sacher hotel. The hotel gets the fame from their Sacher Torte chocolate cake… Nope, not free WiFi, that’s so 2007.

We had a glimpse in the shop adjoined to the hotel, but one way not to impress me is by showing me a cake that starts at €40 for the smallest size. What a fucking rip off. Prior to this Pete asked me what is the most famous Viennese food. It turns out it’s not a Viennese Whirl, but give me 500 of those over a doll house sized cake any day. Quantity over quality please chef.

Against the withdrawal any further Euros that would’ve please Ann Widdecombe, the witch, we had McDonald’s for tea (the shame) but that was only the second time of the whole trip – although the second time in 18 hours if you want to look at it that way – and allowed Pete to choose our last itinerary item on the trip. My mate deserves a medal for his work over the previous 9 days, and organising everything. Why he does it, just to let me do as please and give wrong directions I don’t know but appreciative I certainly am!Vienna’s version of Alton Towers wasn’t the first thing I’d have guessed but my eyes didn’t deceive me as we arrived at the Prater amusement park. Just as I was thinking (slightly concerned) that Pete was overly keen to jump on one of the many rollercoasters, we headed to a big Ferris wheel, or Wiener Riesenrad if you like.A little old fashioned, but with good reason as it’s the same ride that features in the 1949 film The Third Man starring Orson Welles.

I have since tried to watch the old classic but I’m definitely more of a Toy Story kinda guy. If the third man included Rex or even Mr Potato Head I may have been swayed.The cycle provided a pleasant panoramic picture of Vienna, maybe not as ideal as you would hope(?) as it’s not a city full of skyscrapers, although even the dominating Cathedral was a long way from here.

Before we left I was allowed to get a little thrill and ride this really high 60 metre swing thingy. I haven’t ridden a fairground ride for years, add that to the uncertainty whether the ride would bear my weight = I won’t die and the sun slowly setting; it was a terrific 5 minutes, the first time I properly smiled all day! Especially as I managed to ignore the 124 signs excluding mobile phones to take a few snaps way up high! #hownot2lookafreryourphone.

Prior to making our way back to the hostel we soaked up the atmosphere, predominantly happy youngsters staying out of trouble, with a drink, passing up the final opportunity of a cider.

I did actually just write, “passed up the opportunity of a cider”. Don’t tell my fans.

A day of travel with a little joy at the end led us to our final day, the short 17 hour commute to follow checking in at the UK, Wales and Newport, home.

Day 10, Back to Wales.

Well the last post will be short and sweet.

My first memory of the day was Pete seemingly furious that during the night I had selfishly moved the fan to chuck a breeze over me. It was a decision I had no regret about, I still lost so much liquid overnight it felt as though I had been sloppily milked.

We started off the 17 hour journey with a metro to the correct train station and a visit to the complimentary lounge with free food and drink. We would be on the train all the way to Frankfurt and this would be the only leg of the trip we would be succumbed to join the peasants in standard class.

The train was long and uneventful, the highlight definitely being a currywurst sausage and chips in the “restaurant” before we arrived in Frankfurt for a quick ciggie.

Next up was a train to Brussels. I was pleased we had two first class seats together in an open carriage rather than a 6 person cabin, not to take anything away from the 4 Americans, 2 Ecuadorians, a Greek and a Dutchman we encountered on the trip in such circumstances. I was running out of chat.

Whilst every journey I remembered arrived behind schedule, it was only reaching Brussels did we worry about the impact. Last Eurostar or one final hotel on the continent?

Sacrificing a much needed smoke we headed straight to the Eurostar terminal as Pete, not at the mercy of nicotine wanted to be sure we’d get through customs. I thought I hid my annoyance quite well as we breezed through a queueless baggage scan and passport check with plenty of time for a day had I pushed for the opportunity.

The freebie meal on the Eurostar was almost identical to the outward menu (day 1) but it was enjoyable after a few days crap food. I’ve still got the complimentary vino in my fridge at home!

Thankfully the offering wasn’t very filling so once we got to Paddington via St Pancras I had plenty of room for some sausage and chips from Peter’s go to a few minutes away.

This was devoured on our Great Western final choo home, funnily enough departing and arriving on time and home at 1am.

There we have it. Sorry for the uneventful last day but cheers for reading if you’ve been with us from the start!

General info: we used Inter Rail for our trains. Unlimited first class travel for 5 separate days with a 10 day period was around £300.

I think the whole trip cost in the region on £950 all in. That’s hotel, food, soft drinks that were more expensive than beer, match ticket etc. I reckon I could get it down to £750 being my usual frugal self but the nicer hotels and occasional cuisine was worth every cent considering out travel and days in the heat.

Fun fact: I would’ve guessed the tap water would be drinkable in Croatia or Hungary, yet apparently the tap water is up there with the purest in the world! This solved a lot of dehydrated moments and a small fortune at the hotel room mini bar!!

I still have my trip to Jordan to cover from January so hope to upload that soon! You’ll know about it when I do!

Chris x
#hotnot2life

At 3am on a Saturday morning I am regularly waiting for a taxi home from a night out, not waiting for the National Express to kick off a 23 hour day that will see us visit the Belgian capital. The trip, a belated birthday gift which cost around £70 each meant that we would only have seven hours in the City so a few hours revision looking at what we wanted to do, when and how we are getting to places was vital.

We got in to Victoria coach station at 6am, three hours before our Eurostar departure. So, full of energy we decided to jump on the tube and head down to the London Eye, for a photo more than anything. I did think about the disappointment on people’s faces when they see Big Ben masked in scaffolding destroying the perfect selfie opportunity. We’ve had a few scaffolding related disappointments ourselves mind, the Capitol in Washington and the Prague Astronomical clock just two weeks prior standing out.

A quiet walk (I have never seen London so vacant) around parliament square, then up Whitehall including two fingers to Theresa May walking past Downing Street to Trafalgar Square and we were ready to head to St Pancras to lose my Eurostar virginity. The security and customs processes were quick and straight-forward (we’re getting used to this!) and caught up on some Netflix whilst we waiting to board the train.

TOP TIP: Whilst security looks like that in an airport, you are free to take liquids through security, so take a big bottle of your favourite refreshment along with you and avoid the expected high prices.

Unfortunately on both Eurostar journeys I slept most of the way, appreciating the sufficient leg room and comfortable seats. From London to Brussels via Ebbsfleet, Calais and Lille took a little over two hours and we arrived in Brussels just after lunch time.

Most of our day would be spent in the central area of the city but our first destination was to visit the Atomium, a unique building based on… you guessed it – an atom. This meant catching the Metro blue line to the end of the tracks to Heysel, but we decided to go one further to Roi Baudouin where I knew was near to the national football stadium.

If you’re a football fan you have probably put 2 + 2 together and worked out this stadium was the location of the Heysel Stadium disaster in 1985, where 39 people died during the European Cup final between Liverpool and Juventus. Since then the stadium has had a few additional safety concerns but today, whilst it won’t make any top 100 lists for architecture, it’s deemed safe and hosts the Belgian football team as many of my Welsh supporting pals will know. The name change in the nineties to King Baudouin Stadium probably helps its reputation.

Unfortunately the ground was fenced off about 200m around the perimeter so I couldn’t take a closer look so we continued down the road to the Atomium, certainly one of the tourist hotspots in Belgium. You can go inside the structure; it’s a museum with a viewpoint up top. Whilst I would have liked to get to the top the museum was of little interest – and the clock was ticking.

From here we jumped on the hop-on hop-off sightseeing bus, which at €25 was a bit expensive (a day public transport card was €6) although it did give us the opportunity to visit other places of interest on the outskirts of the centre we wouldn’t have otherwise chosen or have been able to see. The trip in to town went past the impressive Basilica of Sacred Heart and stopped just outside the narrow streets of the city centre.

Next on the agenda was to see the Manneken Pis, a statue of a boy having a wee. I know, right? As we fought our way through the crowds we were treated to a walk through a bustling shopping arcade with countless chocolatiers and waffle outlets, finally caving in and purchasing a chocolate-topped waffle a few yards before we got the statue.

The statue itself was slightly disappointing, standing at around 18 inches high it wasn’t as grand as was advertised and the sheer volume of people blocking any through traffic was annoying. There is always someone who thinks it’s a good idea to force a push chair through these mass congregations. Today the statue was dressed in a uniform with singers in the same attire at the front of the railings that surround it. I couldn’t really tell who they were, probably a charitable group – we didn’t bother to find out more as we departed for oxygen.

Shuffling with the crowds away from the statue led us to the main square, or “Grand Place” that did live up to expectation. Every side of the square stood grandiose buildings with golden highlights focusing on the town hall with a spire that can be seen from practically anywhere we visited during our time there. Thankfully we timed our trip in line with a flower carpet adorning most of the squares surface area, the remainder jam packed with tourists. The flower carpet takes place every other August in which volunteers from around Belgium convene at the Grand Place to weave a carpet-like tapestry. Nearly a million flowers are required to create the ephemeral 1,800 square meter carpet. Good timing.

Moving on along many more narrow streets with the realisation that time was already against us, we emerged out at the Central train station and walked to the hop-on hop-off bus to complete the second route included in the price. I have to admit this coincided with the County kicking off in Exeter so I was paying attention to my phone as much as the surroundings. You can take the boy out of Newport etc… This journey took us past sights such as the Royal Theatre, Federal Parliament and numerous EU buildings but it was the Arcade du Cinquantenaire based in the European quarter that was the highlight, especially the sight of the triumphal arch at the end of the Avenue de Tervuren.

Once travelled full circle we departed the bus to visit some of the sights in more detail, first stopping off at the Palace which was closed off for an impending music concert, can’t imagine Queen Lizzie allowing us common type on the Buckingham Palace forecourt any time soon but hey ho. From here we headed past Place Royale and the Notre-Dame du Sablon church and garden to get back to the federal building where there was a viewpoint across the city, with the Atomium, Basilica and town hall all being prominent. A lift took as back down to city-centre level and once we had walked around to pick up the customary fridge magnet and some chocolates it was time to get the train back to the Eurostar and begin the long journey home.

We returned home at 2am the next morning, with an understanding that for most people, seven hours isn’t nearly enough time to see all what Brussels has to offer. We gave it a very good go and managed to see everything we wanted to without feeling rushed. As we very rarely stop for a sit-down meal and a beer, or explore the contents of most museums and churches, this does give us more time to wander around, albeit after a few hours planning before we go. Ultimately we had an enjoyable day and can confidently tick Brussels off the never-ending list.

Don’t forget you can add me on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/hownot2life/ or search for #hownot2life to view more photos from my adventures!

I’ll say up front that I regarded Dublin as my last choice when the initial Nations League draw was made back in January. Plenty of European destinations to tick off my list but instead we got bloody Ireland. Been there before, expensive, don’t like Guinness, what else is there to do. But bear with me. 

We booked our flights the day after the Denmark loss in September… £55 from Bristol, Monday to Wednesday, some bargain considering you’d have thought that would be the ideal flight time for a large chunk of the 3,000 strong Red Wall. 

Hang on… I have completely forgotten about the Spain game at the Principa… Millennium Stadium. Due to work commitments I wasn’t able to go, which I was quite disappointed about, even though my project won a national award just as kick off time approached. I didn’t miss too much it seems, it would have been nice to go the stadium again since it’s likely to be the last time I visit there for the foreseeable future (… I don’t like rugby). Would love to play there with 70,000 cheering us on should that ever be the case, but the ‘light show’ I came across during the second half was tragic.
 
To make up for booking a non-refundable £150 a night room in Dublin back in January, my travel companion Pete provided me with a Dublin guide book (which I’m guessing didn’t cost £150), so at least we had some things to do, having visited the Guinness Storehouse last March. As far as the first night went though, we had a pricey three course steak dinner and two pints in the hotel, slightly different to the 12-15 pints on the eve of the Danish game!

Waking up fresh on match day was a strange feeling, but not one that I regretted! For some reason when scouring Google Maps I came across Phoenix Park, which I believe is the biggest park in Europe, yet it lay just a 5 minute bus ride from the Ha’penny Bridge. There were a few monuments, Dublin Zoo and the official residence of the Irish President to attract us. It was only when we got to the first stop: Wellington monument did we grasp of how big the bloody place was! It took a good 30 minutes to reach the Papal Cross, which was erected when Pope John Paul 2nd visited in 1979 to deliver mass to 1.25 million people! That’s even more people than I have read this rubbish!

Standing at the cross you couldn’t hear – or see – any of the city centre but had a great view of whatever the mountains are called around the capital. I have been lucky enough to visit Central Park in New York and was taken aback how one park could have so many different environments, and this park is similar. Just five minutes after walking from the cross to the main road we were in the middle of a deep forest, topped off by seeing a herd of wild deer chillaxing near the walkway. A quick look on Google will tell you that Central Park is 3.41km2 and Phoenix Park is double the size! Well worth a visit if you go again… I was a bit miffed that it hardly features in any of the ‘top tourist spots’ in Dublin. Apart from one particular free-kick, it was the highlight of the trip!

Back in to the centre, we were making good time and decided to visit Trinity College before the inevitable alcohol consumption. The college is famous for housing the Book of Kells, which my mate Wikepedia tells me, is an “illuminated manuscript Gospel book in Latin, containing the four Gospels of the New Testament together with various prefatory texts”. That’s great, and the €15 entrance fee didn’t offend, especially considering the end of the self-guided tour ends in The Long Room, containing some 200,000 of the libraries oldest books. For a load of old bookshelves, I thought it was a fascinating area. 

Without this turning in to an episode of Antiques Roadshow, you’ll be glad that once leaving the college we were entering football mode, inaugurated by the cheekiest of Nando’s and some fruity cider. After a pit stop at the hotel to collect the flag, we headed to Devitts on Camden Street that was recommended by the Welsh FSF guide, on to a jazz bar and finally to the Beggar’s Bush close to the ground where we were only just outnumbered roughly 20-1 but had a great craic with the Irish fans, who like me were especially gloomy about the game, deeming it impossible to expect anything than a 0-0 draw. 

That 0-0 draw looked a cert 45 minutes after we were shepherded into the ground and belted out the anthem. Gosh, it was dire. I expected ROI to be “a bit shit” but didn’t expect us to play at their level, and we were lucky not to be a goal down after another defensive error that saw Spain run riot. I’m so late writing the blog I’ve forgotten how poor the first half was, so I’ll quickly fast forward to us having a free kick on the edge of the box just before the hour. An ACTUAL chance perhaps? No Bale, and OK the young lad Wilson scored a worldy against Man United recently for Derby but it wasn’t as though he was just going to boot it in to the back of the net, was it?

He did. The first away Wales goal I’ve witnessed in over a year. Arms everywhere. That perfect mix of surprise and celebration. I did check to see if Pete was OK – his ticker isn’t what it used to be! The remaining 30 minutes did little to ease one’s pulse either. All of a sudden we were ripping Ireland apart due to them having no other option than to push forward, and Christ they had their share of chances; a brief highlight during the nerves being James McClean mis-controlling the ball in front of me, not quite justice for concussing my pal Joe Allen a year prior, but something. 
Hold on to win, we did. A brilliant, second half defensive display, including Ashley Williams!

Once we walked what seemed like an age from the ground the elation was slightly wearing off so a top up of gorgeous Orchard Thieves cider or 4 listening to some jazz and light-hearted banter with sad Irish people kept me going. I liked the jazz, although it’s not usually my thing. (If ever a geezer does a solo bit, applause is compulsory). Once I was aware that most pubs close in Dublin around midnight, I parted ways with Pete to squeeze another two in, eavesdropping on other red shirted chaps’ versions of events, before heading back via a pizza that was two sizes bigger than necessary. When in Rome…(??)

A welcome lie-in on Wednesday morning started the day, prior to a greasy spoon full Irish breakfast that hit the spot. We didn’t have much of a plan for the day but as we stayed 2 minutes away from the castle decided to give that a once over. Calling the complex a castle is a bit rich, and that’s coming from a Newportonian! Only one corner remains attached to more modern state apartments. The tour itself I found interesting; it included descending to see some ruins of the fort, a disused chapel and the state apartments themselves, where the presidents are inaugurated inside St Patrick’s Hall. The tour guide I particularly liked; he gave a good summary of Ireland’s history without mentioning Bono or Westlife. 

By the time we enjoyed some fish and chips for lunch, we strolled back to the hotel and headed to the airport. What I expected to be a few days void of anything overly exciting became a thoroughly enjoyable trip. 

And we won. 

Next up 6 days in Albania! Don’t forget to follow me on Instagram where I regularly post my crap pictures during trips before my crap blogs!

I have always been tight with money (frugal being my preferred term) but I never thought I would get to the point where I wouldn’t even consider spending loose change!

In the summer of 2016, I attended the Royal Mint in Llantrisant, on the outskirts of Cardiff. Not only the main factory for coin production is housed here, but also a museum and exhibition named the Royal Mint Experience opened in 2016.

Having attended with a friend who traveled several hours from Darlington to attend, it was only after the trip I started paying attention to what is on the opposite side of the Queens head.

Attending the Royal Mint allowed me to not only obtain the uncirculated “last round pound” but to also strike it myself. As special as one may think that is, my spare certainly has a price where I would be willing to let it go.

Thanks to the frequency of both paying for things in cash and going down the pub I made a quick start bulking up my collection. Now well out of circulation, the old £1 coins were the easiest to obtain, thanks to there being not so many variations, not the most sought-after designs and most produced in vast numbers. I managed to collect my final coin, the London cities 2014 coin a couple of months before the round pound went out of circulation in March 2017. Wow, 18 months have gone fast!

Unfortunately that’s where my completion-ism ends. The 50 pence coins are probably the most popular coin to collect at the moment and includes the holy grail Kew Gardens 50p released in 2009. Kew is one of the lowest produced coins at 210,000. Rather annoyingly, I could have picked this up when I started collecting for around £25, but since then everyone else has jumped on the bandwagon and a quick check on eBay will tell you that it can sell for 200 times its face value!

Since starting my collection I have never paid more than face value for a coin and with so many eyes looking at change now it’ll be impossible to get one without paying the ever-increasing going rate. I would have a lot more luck working in a post office, bank or retail (I’ll come on to this later!) but it keeps it interesting.

I also found it hard to find the WWF coin, which if I must choose one would be my favourite. I only drunkenly known I obtained this a few weeks ago so was thrilled the next day! This is frequently deemed the second rarest 50p yet is only worth about a fiver!

Fifty pence’s are regularly split up in to two sections as during the 2012 London Olympics, a set of 28 coins were released in to circulation. I’m half way there, but living on a prayer for the other 14!

The other denomination I collect are £2 coins. With quite a few to collect, when I add to the collection it seems a fortunate achievement. The four Commonwealth coins released in 2002 are the 2nd-5th rarest coins out there. A traumatic experience with the Northern Irish version of this coin… I actually had one once whilst watching Dragons Rugby (again change from a pint!), only to spend it in my local boozer an hour later – never to be seen again! I’m finding the 2017 and 2018 coins extremely hard to find, probably as the number of collectors or those wanting to make a quick few quid are by far outweighing production quantities. There is always hope…
To round things up are some other coins I have come across, mainly non-mainland coins from Gibraltar, Jersey and the Isle of Man. I’m not really passionate about these coins but they don’t hurt to keep.

Finally on to 10p coins, I’m pretty amazed I haven’t got more than ONE A-Z coin at the moment (J for Jubilee) that received so much publicity when released earlier this year. I’m still sticking to not paying over face value so it’s going to be a long wait until I come across another one! I can’t see anyone accepting £2.60 for a full set anytime soon.

Many people are frustrated and angry that so little are being seen in circulation, but I understand. If you’re working minimum wage behind a bar and you have a £5 money bag of A-Z 10p coins – why wouldn’t you swap them with normal ones and sell on for £150?

Today I’ve just received three of the same limited edition non-coin item, with the sole hope that the item sells out quickly and in future I can sell the item on for a profit. As a collector of numerous things be it football figures, POP Vinyls, LEGO minifigures or coins; I tend to think it’s swings and roundabouts.

At the time of writing, I have around 150 spares for sale which are currently on eBay. Anyone local can have substantial discounts and obviously I would be interested in swapping! THAT LINK IS HERE.

The best place to find a full list of coins released is probably the Change Checker website http://www.changechecker.org.

The originally dreaded weekend has come and gone and I’m still here to tell the tale. Not much has changed believe it or not, bar the increased thoughts of cutting down alcohol, shit food and smoking, and no doubt even more grey hairs adorning my bonce.

I was fortunate to have the day off on Friday 25th for my birthday but decided to pop in to work to have lunch with the team and to polish off the Slovenia blog you can see below. I was greeted with a lovely card from everyone in the office and even a pint glass gift to remind me every time I use it that perhaps I should slow down!

I returned home just as Mikayla got in from school (don’t worry, she’s 28 and works there!) to receive my gifts. I’m notorious for being really difficult to buy things for yet she done wonders even after the initial gift of a huge bar of Dairy Milk chocolate! What followed was some ‘adult LEGO’ of the New York skyline that I thought was great even though probably too expensive. A reminder that although I’ve passed another decade perhaps I don’t *have* to properly grow up in every aspect! The final gift in my card was another pearler. In August we are going to Brussels for the day. Not only will this be another city off the list, Kay did marvelous organising everything from the coach to London, Eurostar train, exactly how long we’ll have to look around and an accompanying guide book! The girl done good. For us all as it means another blog post to look forward to!

We had planned on going to the cinema but the excitement of the gifts made me look forward to my ‘party’ tomorrow even more than I already was since sending the Facebook RSVP’s out in February! Noticing this excitement, Mikayla was quick to march me down the pub for a few birthday beers culminating with a few more in the new El Sieco’s pub, ran by family members of John Sicolo who used to own the famous TJ’s bar in the ‘Port. A few more beverages than planned but a very good night!

Saturday morning allowed enough time to chill on the PS4 for a few hours (finally completing Assassins Creed Origins after 96 hours gameplay!) as excitement built for not only a congregation of 25+ friends down the pub, but also two big football games, the last before the world cup which is still a million weeks away (three and a bit but it feels like).

Whilst Mikayla headed to the Hay Festival to see Akala (an author/rapper I believe) she dropped me off in to town to meet Rich and Tom who had travelled from the Southampton area to be with me, it was nice to have a quiet catch up before getting to local The Dodger to a foray of cards and offers of a pint from fellow County fans already settled in watching the Championship playoff final. The pub was already busy with the odd numpty singing Liverpool songs but our tables were set up in prime position to watch the game and welcome people who joined throughout the evening.

It would be rude not to mention that Champions League final of 2018. I made no secret of wanting Liverpool to lose but expected a tight game. For Welshman Gareth Bale to score undoubtedly the best goal in a European final, against Liverpool, whilst I was down the pub with my closest mates on such an occasion… you just couldn’t make it up.

Once the game had come to a close we headed into town via the Riverside bar and sadly but not unexpectedly people filtered off to home or different pubs as a small group of us danced merrily to some absolute classics in Le Pub.

I personally thought the Sunday midday wake up was quite an achievement, and as Kay went to get takeaway (what else) I started on me LEGO watching another playoff on the TV. The LEGO in fact was so fun, the first thing I did after completing it was to buy a LEGO Architect model of the US Capitol building! Not my best use of £65 but I was aware of the resale value should I change my mind. Yet another takeaway for tea as Mikayla packed her bags… not permanently as I’m too old for her!.. because she was going to Disneyland Paris on Monday with her family. How exciting!

I delivered Kay to her parents’ house 6am Monday morning and returned to bed hoping I wouldn’t miss my delivery of 1000+ blocks of moulded plastic. Once the package arrived, I had to give myself a pep-talk to leave the model unfinished! I promised Peter I would visit for the third and final playoff game of the weekend. It was great to see my friend Lewis also attend, grasping the opportunity to interrogate him about visiting Jordan which was a huge help ahead of our New Year’s trip.

Back home and Capitol construction completed anticipating the Wales football friendly with a 2am kick-off time. The game itself was not quite a boring 0-0 but once finished at 4am was glad I had the next day off too.

The final day before work (thus the end of my weekend) included nothing worthy of note, apart from the accomplishment that I cleaned most of the house, and even more so I did NOT have another bloody takeaway!
As good as the weekend was as a whole, a big shout out to everyone who joined me on Saturday especially those from afar and Mikayla for supplying the entertainment either side (… expects more LEGO from Disneyland…)

Until next year!

So, Slovenia! Just the 2 weeks later than planned so apologies to keep the thousands of my fans waiting. At the start of May I visited a brand new country on my list for a friends stag. Lloyd has been a good mate since 16 or so and I’m delighted that he has found happiness with Cara, and even more so I was able to spend a long weekend with him drinking lager.

It was fortunate another mate I don’t see very often, Dan – based in Beddau (don’t ask how to pronounce it) – was able to pick me up and drop us to Stanstead airport early on Wednesday morning. Thankfully the trip was without any major delays and we arrived comfortably to meet Lloyd and his workmate James at departures. Four out of seven went in search for the departure lounge Wetherspoons. It was at this point the other three lads, Lloyd’s university pals, messaged to say their trip from Cheltenham wasn’t as smooth as ours from south Wales, and there was a real danger of them missing the flight.

Long story short… they did.

With Dan sacrificing his divine right to have an extortionately priced beer at the airport so he could pick up the hire car, we arrived at sunny Jože Pučnik airport mid-afternoon with the Alps defending every horizon, unsurprised with the knowledge half of the country is forest. Next stop: Bled.

Bled & Caves.

Bled is a small town about 45 minutes north-west of capital city Ljubjana. Its main attraction is a beautiful lake in the middle of peaceful green surroundings, overlooked by the medieval Bled Castle.

When I say Bled is a town, it has a population of 6,000 people, whereas Newport’s nearby village Caerleon houses 8,000 folk. This didn’t make finding our hostel too difficult. Garden House Bled offered comfortable dorms with a balcony in forestry surroundings, including it’s own treehouse and sauna. For the small price we paid we were delighted to chill out in the sunshine and cracked open the first beers on foreign soil. Some rancid 7% IPA I wouldn’t touch at home, but one must make do sometimes.

As the sun started to set and kickoff of the Liverpool-Roma Champions League semi-final was fast approaching we headed in to ‘town’ that was all of a five minute walk down the hill by the lake, with another guest Helmut from Germany tagging along with us.

The rounds were delivered and consumed at a healthy pace, although my doctor may disagree. By the end of the game we were half a mile along the lake in Devils Bar filling up on pizza and flirting with the odd spirit and mixer, contemplating on whether or
not to visit the casino up the road. Once my ‘gamble responsibly’ spiel was shared we decided to proceed, but thankfully without any form of ID I wasn’t allowed in, thus went back to the pub with James who was staying in a hotel nearby, had a few more lagers and walked home alone getting lost on multiple occasions.

Overnight the other three lads finally arrived. They ended up driving to Luton, flying to Munich then driving 5 hours south through Austria. They must REALLY like Lloyd. I woke up without a hangover, fresh and ready to make my introductions. What a nice bunch.

The plan this morning was to visit the Vintgar Gorge before the Postojna Caves on the way back to Ljunbjana. It turned out the Gorge was actually closed that week so just the caves to look forward to. Whilst those staying at the hostel gave ample time to get ready, the person who decided to go it alone and book a hotel was unresponsive due to excessive drinking the night before and meant we didn’t leave Bled until 90 minutes later than anticipated.

This would have a disappointing knock on effect. Once we arrived at the caves and knowing the hire car would have to be back at a certain time, we didn’t have enough time to see the main attraction, having to make do with a much smaller version of exhibition. I can’t speak for the rest of the lads but I was furious at this point, even considering I have been that inconsiderate arsehole on a few occasions! But, we still had a long weekend ahead of us to enjoy in Ljubljana.

Ljubljana

Once we had dropped the hire car off near the train station later that afternoon, we headed to our hostel in one of Europe’s smallest capital cities. It was an uninspiring stroll through side streets as we hoped this wasn’t all the city had to offer, where was this castle and river? Most places you go to the station is smack bang in the middle, but not here… it took us half an hour to get to the “famous” dragon bridge where our wonderful h2o hostel was located a few minutes along the Ljubjianca river.

Shower, shave, sh… etcetera and we were sat having a beer in the first pub we found, and there where countless bars aligning the river without outside seating areas enjoying the weather – it was supposed to be thunder and lightning. This was the first time we had all settled down to have a beer together and conversation soon turned into a few jokes and finding more about each other. A first walk up the river allowed us to visit another bar and when we filled up the table with empty local Union of Laško beers we headed somewhere to watch the football as Lloyd’s team Arsenal were playing Athletico Madrid in the Europa semi. This was harder than anticipated as we ended up in a place called the ‘England Pub’ with a big crest of three lions outside, it was as crap as it sounds. It didn’t fill me with confidence that we had to actually ask for the game to be shown, and by half time we gave up on the game and visited a welcoming restaurant for (another) pizza.

A few lads alluded to the reason why I didn’t have a hangover all trip, something along the lines of European booze containing less preservatives? Anyway, fresh for a second day running and before you could say Jan Oblak we wandered through the market, over that famous dragon bridge of course, on the way to Ljubljana castle that overlooks the city in every direction. On a clear day I discovered that you could see a third of the whole country! Sadly today wasn’t a clear day. It started pissing down incredibly as we started the steep climb uphill and continued whilst we meandered through various castle exhibits ranging from the history of the castle and the city, a rather poor puppet museum to the viewing tower, and the bar. The trip back to the centre wasn’t half as bad as we got the lift. I don’t know why we didn’t use it on the way up either! The remainder of Friday was used up by welcoming Dom, the eighth member of our group and visiting several other bars in the city in between some delightful lightening displays.

Saturday was our last full day and shortly before lunch we started a walking tour. Whilst I felt that we had seen all there was to see it was great to get an alternative look at Ljubjana. The tour focused a lot around various works of art, especially graffiti which I found it difficult not to consider as vandalism, although the stories behind the art offered some fascination. Away from ‘art’ it was interesting to discover one of the first LGBT bars is currently located under the mayor’s office at City Hall, a show of protection after the bar previous locations was subject to attacks from neanderthals. We also visited the famous dragon bridge – OBVIOUSLY – and two ghettos Rog and Metelkova. To me, of limited cultural expansion capabilities the areas looked like abandoned scrapyards, but in fact they offer so much more to the ‘alternative’ population. Of Rog, Wikipedia states:

The former Rog factory serves Ljubljana and the wider community as a space for alternative content which is lacking in an otherwise heavily institutionalized Slovenia. Its 7,000 square meters hosts many collectives and spaces: multiple gallery spaces, art studios, two skate parks (including the largest covered skate park in Balkans), Rog Social Center for disadvantaged groups (such as migrants and refugees), various concert and clubbing venues, a bicycle repair shop, etc. Those collectives provide a rich programme of social and cultural activities. All users participate directly and make decisions collectively at general assemblies.

… not something we’re very familiar with to that extent, unfortunately, but superb to hear about.

A hearty financial contribution to our tour guide shortly after and we headed back to somewhat normality finding a burger bar along the river for a few more beers before heading back to the hostel for a few hours to watch the final County game of the season whilst others headed to the park and Laško brewery.

Our final planned activity was a boat ride along the Ljubljanica. Albeit a simple 20 minutes upstream and back again, most of which we had walked alongside back and fore numerous times, we were on a stunning wooden boat, drinking a can of lager, waving to anyone unfortunate to make eye contact as the sun fell from the sky for the last time.

Drinks that evening involved some 8 Euro rubbish Baileys/Coffee/whipped cream combo, a beer next to a local hen party who also brought their own whipped cream to use on any good looking blokes walking by – luckily our group didn’t fit that category so went unharmed. Afterwards a long walk past the train station to a club turned out to be some ballroom dance kind of gig, as humorous that could possibly be. Ultimately we ended up in the small café bar just behind our hostel for one last quiet round or two, having a chat to some fellow Brits who were there as part of Hash House Harriers, an international group of non-competitive running social clubs. I’m not sure the chaps we spoke to did much running over the weekend given their age and more so their drinking behaviours – they put us to shame!

As stag do’s go, it was a very quiet affair. However, the last one I went to abroad I ended up sick in bed for two out of the four days and did bugger all, so this was an improvement.

The last day (still hangover free) I took the initiative to wake up first so I could visit Tivoli Park after saying goodbyes to the three chaps making their long trip back to Munich. Another sunny day and a coffee overlooking the city seemed an eloquent end to the weekend. Unfortunately EasyJet had other ideas. The trip home was delayed by more than three hours!

A big reason for wanting to go on the trip was it would be the only chance I have to celebrate Lloyd’s imminent marriage to Cara, having accidently booked our weekend to Prague on the same weekend.

So if you’re thinking of going to Ljubljana…my recommendations are:

A weekend is more than enough time.

Whilst the city is lovely, you will quickly run out of things to do unless a quiet drink by the river is your idea of a getaway. Visiting the castle is essential and I highly recommend the alternative walking tour. Nevertheless Slovenia is bordered by Austria, Croatia, Hungary and only a few hours’ drive from Venice in Italy.

You MUST visit Bled.

If you go to Ljubljana you will regret not going to Bled even if it is for a couple of hours. We were only there overnight, mostly drinking, but during the day there are endless walking routes, water sports and a visit to the viewpoint from top of the castle seemed a good idea if time permitted.

The probability was I would have included Vintgar Gorge and postojna Caves in that too has we been able to see them.

Add it to your agenda.

Slovenia is multicultural, friendly, and somewhere that has certainly benefitted since being in the EU. Whilst groceries and accommodation is cheap, still expect for pay £2.80 off a pint and meal prices similar to the UK.

Since getting excited over numerous trips abroad this year, it hasn’t been without contemplation how on god’s green earth I’m going to pay for it all. A recent rummage through the garage encouraged me enough to finally sell 25+ years of my football shirts. Football shirts that I have literally grown up in, from the 1992-94 ‘youth’ size Manchester United home kit to last season’s 5XL Newport County strip. Don’t take 5XL too seriously. For years football shirts have been mugging people off with shirt sizes – I’m a comfortable XXL in Primarni, and it doesn’t help that several kit manufacturers have been located in Italy and Thailand, where perhaps no-one ever buys anything more than a medium. The South Africa shirt below from 2002 is a large and still fits – so work that out.

Anyway, the reason for the blog post is that I’ve decided to flog them all to raise some funds but I hope this will work as a keepsake. Until 4th and 5th May 2018 they are on eBay and as a proud 100% positive feedback eBay seller after some 15,000 transactions, I’m a bit worried that some morons won’t read the item description which clarifies these as used, with some being worn on hundreds of occasions.

Without going into a huge amount of detail I’ve split the shirts in to three categories being Newport County, Manchester United and International teams. Let’s hope I don’t regret selling the shirts further down the line!

If you do have an interest in football shirts, fellow Newportonian Neal Heard has written a whole bloody book about his collection! Here is his website: http://www.nealheard.com/

Newport County

You would really expect me to have more of these, wouldn’t you? Around 2003 Wales played Azerbaijan and a well-known County and Wales supporter made a request for old NCAFC shirts, to which between me, my mother and sister must have donated 30+ shirts, some of which would be worth a few quid today no doubt. The shirts were donated to charities working with Azerbaijani children so it’s not the most #hownottolife moment I’ve ever had.

I’ll be keeping the Reid shirt myself along with the current 2017/18 amber and black shirts (not shown) that have been the best for a number of years even if the FTB manufacturer isn’t the best quality.

Manchester United

Many of you know that I grew up supporting both United and the County, albeit it wasn’t until 2003/04 I went to see my first game. A couple of seasons later I was going regularly and by the time 2006 came along I was going to most home, away and European games, funding it through the sales of football figures and student loan! I cut the season ticket in 2008/09 after seeing the pinnacle Champions League final in Rome (we lost) and have only been to four games since.

Still, it’s a time I look back on fondly, not just because of the “I was there” moments but the people I became good friends with and those European games I’m starting to replicate with Wales. Copenhagen, Porto, Lille, Lyon, Glasgow, Inter Milan, Barcelona, AC Milan, Rome twice and Arsenal if you’re interested!

International Teams

With my underlying love for Ronaldo back in the day (honestly probably up to today) there was always going to be a few Portugal tops included. Argentina I can’t quite think of apart from I thought they would win in 2002! I’m certain I have 3 or 4 Wales shirts somewhere but during the noughties especially it was impossible to find a suitable size. Kappa FFS. Refer back to Italian manufacturers!

The obvious gem here is the South Africa shirt that has United LEGEND Quinton Fortune on the back. My father (we don’t talk about him) brought me it back from a regular trip to see his family around 2002. Hopefully he is there now if not eaten by a lion…. but a nice shirt nevertheless.

Names on the back

Something I have grown out of now, I’ve had a few dodgy names on the back of shirts through the years. Nicky Butt #8 was chosen on the simple basis that it would have cost the least, which at the time I wish I had paid the extra £1 and gone for Veron #4! When Ole Gunnar Solskjaer came back from injury during 2005/06 it started a trend for a number of years. Solskjaer retired in 2007 and the next season I decided to have Forever #20 on the back. What a daft decision that was, and unless it was a match day at OT it just looked stupid. Out of all the shirts this must be the one worn the least… fifty quid down the drain. Luckily the seasons after this I reverted back to old, and the only United shirt to be kept is a well-worn 2008 blue away kit, in part as a thanks for relegating Cardiff in 2014 maybe?